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D.O.A. By Scott Ramsey Edited by Amelia R. PROLOGUE It was still known as the Capitol of Silicon Valley, though silicon based semiconductors had been replaced in the high tech sector long ago by quasicrystal superconducters. San Jose, California boasted a population of well over a million within the city proper, and was headquarters to many of the world's top tech corporations. The metropolitan area around the city was home to approximately eight million more people. Thanks to the area's ultra-modern highway system, and the fact that almost all vehicles were equipped with computerized autopilots, gridlock was virtually a thing of the past. The advent of room-temperature superconductors had birthed the nanotech revolution, and though still viewed with mistrust by many, nanotechnology had led to tremendous strides in manufacturing, medicine and agriculture. Nanites were rapidly replacing pesticides in agriculture, and were in widespread use for the disposal of waste products. Medical nanites were used for everything >from scar-free healing of wounds and burns to cosmetic and reconstructive procedures. It was a relatively quiet night, and Sergeant Phil Houseman was using the respite to catch up on some paperwork. San Jose had once held the title as the safest big city in the U.S. - now it wasn't even in the top ten, though the crime rate was not anywhere near the likes of Detroit or Washington. The graveyard shift was always unpredictable, however, and with the nightclubs open for another two hours, anything could happen. Engrossed in his reports, Houseman didn't notice the young woman as she entered the police precinct. When he heard the clack of her low heels on the floor tiles, he looked up and whistled to himself. She was a looker - dark, wine red hair framed a face that even without makeup would put most supermodels to shame. She was dressed in fashionable business attire; a black knee-length skirt and matching short jacket with a turquoise blouse that glimmered like it was real silk. While the clothes were upscale, their condition was not. They were ill fitting - the skirt tightly hugging her round, full hips, and the blouse straining to contain her breasts, which while not huge were definitely on the large side and threatened to spill out of a bra that was at least two sizes too small. The top two buttons of her blouse were missing, and the jacket was torn in several places. She was dirty and disheveled, and alarm bells immediately sounded in Houseman's head as she made her way unsteadily to the desk. "Are you all right, Miss?" Houseman asked, unable to avoid a glance at her chest. She looked uncomfortable and tried unsuccessfully to pull her blouse closed. "I'd like to see Lieutenant Jack Barton," she said, her voice a husky, sensuous alto. "Tell him its regarding his friend, Nick Llewellyn." The sergeant made a call, and the redhead waited nervously, avoiding any eye contact. She wasn't very old, perhaps in her early to mid twenties. The sergeant suggested she would be more comfortable if she sat down while she waited, but she politely declined. A few minutes later, a tall man in his forties arrived at the desk, and the sergeant gestured towards the young woman. "I'm Lieutenant Barton," the newcomer said. "What can I do for you, Miss?" "Could we talk in private?" she asked. Barton nodded and had the sergeant buzz her through the security gate. He led her back to his office and offered her a chair in front of his desk. "Could I get your name?" he asked as he sat behind the desk. The redhead smiled and said, "That's a little complicated." Barton studied her intently. She was obviously struggling with her emotions, and from the condition of her clothes, he suspected she might have been raped. He wasn't at all sure why she had asked for him - he was a homicide detective. "If this is about an ... assault ... I really should refer you to...." "It's not," she said, taking a pack of cigarettes from her small purse and lighting one. She took a long drag and held it for a moment, her eyes closing as she slowly exhaled. "I'm here to report a murder," she said as she opened her eyes. Barton leaned forward, his eyes boring into her. "Who was murdered?" The redhead's lip quivered, and she bit back a sob. Tears glistened in her eyes as she whispered in a small, frightened voice. "I was...." CHAPTER 1 ***Two Days Earlier*** The screeching blare of the alarm jarred Nick Llewellyn from sleep, and his head began throbbing painfully as the after-effects of the night before hit him like a bullet train. He squeezed his eyes tighter and pulled a pillow over his head. "DANI, kill the alarm!" The noise continued without pause, and in fact the decibel level increased. "Dammit, DANI, shut off that noise!" The noise mercifully ended, and Nick sighed. Then a voice that was not his Domestic Automation Network Interface spoke. "I don't have a DANI unit, and it's time you were up anyway." Nick pushed the pillow aside and opened his eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight that filled a bedroom that was not his own. He looked towards the source of the voice and saw a beautiful, buxom blonde looking down at him. "There's coffee in the kitchen," the girl said and then turned and left. Nick shook his head to clear it, which was a mistake, as it only sent daggers of pain into his skull. He sat up slowly, wincing from the pain the motion caused in his abdomen. He noticed he was fully clothed except for his shoes and socks, and as he lifted his shirt he saw several dark purple bruises on his stomach. "What the hell?" he muttered, his right hand rising to rub his face. That brought more pain. His jaw was sore, and it felt like his lower lip was swollen. The bedroom was smaller than his and considerably neater. The clock on the night stand showed it was after one in the afternoon. The last clear memory he had was from around eleven the previous night. He found his shoes and socks beside the bed and put them on. His sport coat was draped over a nearby chair, and he slipped it on as well and then made his way to the attached bathroom and relieved himself. ~ What the hell did I do last night? ~ There was no answer forthcoming. He remembered going out with the intention of getting blind drunk, and obviously he had succeeded in that respect. He could remember going to his favorite bar and having three or four drinks, but after that everything was blank. He had no idea who the pretty blonde was, or how he had gotten to her apartment. After washing his hands, he splashed some cold water on his face, wincing again. He looked in the mirror and saw that his lip was indeed swollen and his left eye was blackened. It looked like he had been in a hell of a fight. He dried his face and hands and then followed his nose to the smell of brewing coffee. The girl was sitting at the table in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and reading the morning paper on a tablet PC. She didn't say a word, just pointed at the coffee maker, and Nick poured himself a cup and joined her at the table. "I didn't figure you'd want anything to eat," she said, sliding the pack of cigarettes across the table. Nick took one and lit it, grunting a thank you before taking a sip of coffee. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name," he said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Going home with a girl he had never met was something he had never done, no matter how drunk he had been. The fact that she had to be twenty-years younger than him didn't make him feel any better. "Did I ... I mean ... did we ...?" "Relax, Mr. Llewellyn, nothing happened - you're not my type," she laughed. "Well obviously I told you my name last night." "Actually you didn't, but I do know who you are and that you're a private investigator who at one time specialized in corporate security. I found you staggering out of the alley next to Sullivan's, beat to hell; although from the way the three guys were running in the other direction, I'd say they came out of it worse than you. My name is Gina ... Gina Pollard." Nick's eyes snapped to hers at the name and she nodded. "That's right, Mr. Llewellyn; Tim Pollard was my brother," she said. "Shit," Nick muttered. CHAPTER 2 The incident had occurred three weeks earlier. Nick's friend, Dr. Richard Halstead had asked him for help with a problem. One of his wife Erica's students had become infatuated with her and was causing problems. Nick had checked the grad student's background and found nothing that hinted at any past problems, and he had figured it was a simple case of unrequited love. Erica was a gorgeous, elegant woman, and Tim wouldn't have been the first student she had had a fling with. Most of them saw it for just that, a fling, and moved on when Erica tired of them, but Tim had apparently decided she had genuine feelings for him. It wasn't the kind of case Nick usually handled, although for the last two years he had only worked three corporate jobs including his current case, but this was for a friend. His relationship with Bill and Erica went back to their college days. There had been six of them - Bill, one of his roommates at UCSF; Erica, who at the time had been Nick's girlfriend; Amelia Baker, now a doctor at Stanford University Hospital; Jack Barton, Nick's other roommate; and Elizabeth Mattheson. Nick's relationship with Erica had been short lived, partly because he recognized early on what kind of woman she was. For Erica, love was just a word, and sex was at best a diversion and at worst a tool of manipulation. The main reason for their breakup had been because Nick was really in love with Liz. Nick and Liz were married after graduation, and it lasted for eighteen years, through Nick's time as a Marine and his eight years with the Naval Criminal Investigative Services. After NCIS, he had gone into corporate security and built quite a reputation, but his relationship with Liz had grown more and more distant, until she had finally told him she wanted a divorce two years ago. Perhaps he should have seen it coming, but he hadn't, and it had been a blow that had sent him spiraling into a self-destructive depression. He had started drinking more, and after eighteen years as a non-smoker, he had taken up the habit again. Cigarettes no longer carried the risks they once had, but it still wasn't considered a healthy habit. For Nick, the smoking was partly because of the stress, but mainly because he just didn't give a damn anymore. His work had been affected as well. He turned down lucrative corporate contracts in favor of more traditional cases - missing persons and skip traces mostly - many of which delved into the seedy world of nanonarcotics. His latest case had involved the disappearance of a San Jose State coed, and his investigation had uncovered evidence that led to the arrest of a major member of the Russian mob for her murder, a vile man named Vasily Kodorov. The situation with Tim Pollard had seemed simple enough. The grad student had no criminal record, and nothing in his background indicated he was dangerous. He had experimented with nanonarcs in his early college days, but that could be said of many university students. Nick had gone to the young man's apartment and told him in no uncertain terms that Erica was not interested and he should back off, and left it at that. The next evening he had gotten a call from Erica while Bill was out of town. The kid had called her, angry and apparently high, and made several threats before telling her he was on his way over. Nick had arrived at the house to find the door kicked in, the security alarm screaming, and Tim Pollard threatening Erica with a gun, totally out of his head. He had tried to talk him down, but the kid was too far gone to hear him. Then Tim had turned the gun towards him, and for an instant Nick had hesitated. The thought of dying was something that held no fear for him - he had been dead for two years, merely existing day-to-day. The only thing that made him squeeze the trigger was knowing that after he was dead, Erica would be next. "Your brother didn't leave me any choice," Nick sighed through a cloud of smoke. "He was so jacked he couldn't think straight. The medical examiner's report showed he was on some pretty bad bugs." Nano-narcotics were one of the banes of the nanotech revolution. There were no drugs involved, only nanites programmed to simulate the effects of various narcotics. Because nanites had very limited mobility, they were usually injected behind the ear, or administered in eye drops, so they had a direct route to the brain. Good quality nano-narcs had no detrimental side effects, except that they were almost always programmed to create a dependence that was hard to break. The real danger came from lesser quality product, where the programming was bad, or even worse, intentionally written to seriously screw up a user. "Tim had been clean for four years," Gina said. "He wouldn't have started using again ... he promised." "Addictions can be hard to break," Nick said, holding up the cigarette in his hand. "People can go for years and then relapse when something causes an emotional trauma. When Erica refused his advances, maybe he slipped." Gina shook her head sharply and said, "Not Tim, he was totally focused on his studies. He didn't even date - he said romance was a complication he didn't need." There was more that she wasn't saying, Nick could see it on her face. Reading someone's unspoken signals was a vital skill for an investigator, and Nick was very good at it. It didn't really matter - her brother really had left him with no choice. "He got that right," Nick grunted, thinking about the heartache that had brought on his drinking binge. He had met with his Liz the day before to sign divorce papers after two years of separation. Her announcement that she was marrying again had been the last straw. "Unfortunately, it happens," Nick told her, "even when a guy doesn't want it to." "I don't believe it," Gina said, but there was less conviction in her voice. "Maybe she led him on." Nick grunted again - he was fairly certain Erica had done more than lead him on. Her position as a professor at Stanford was entirely for prestige. Her inheritance had left her incredibly wealthy, and as a senior professor in computer programming, she had a lot of contacts in the tech world and had used those to increase her wealth. Bill's status as one of the leading researchers in nanotechnology didn't hurt either. "Gina, the cops found dozens of emails he had sent her, some of them very threatening," Nick said. "I'm very sorry about your loss...." "I don't want your pity," Gina said. "What do you want?" Nick asked. "Somehow, I don't think you just happened by Sullivan's at just the right moment last night. You could've hired the goons that jumped me - a little payback maybe?" "I admit I was following you - I wanted to hear what happened >from you. I had nothing to do with you getting beat up though. If I was after payback, I could've had that anytime last night." That was true enough, Nick thought. He certainly had been totally out of it. "Well, for what it's worth, I am sorry," Nick said. "From what I know, your brother had a promising future ahead." "And that's it?" Gina demanded. "My brother is dead, and so I should just move on and forget him?" "I didn't say you should forget him," Nick answered. "Remember the good, hold on to that. As long as someone remembers us, we live on." Gina didn't answer; she just crushed out her cigarette and rose from the table. "I have to get to work," she said. "I, um, well I brought you here in your car - I don't have one. Could you give me a lift?" "Sure," Nick said. "Where do you work?" "A club called Voluptas over on Bascom," Gina said. Nick knew the place; it was one of the most popular strip clubs in San Jose. Gina certainly had the body for it. "It's putting me through college," she said at his look. "Nothing wrong with that," Nick said. "If you don't mind my asking, what are you studying?" "Criminal justice and pre-law," Gina told him with a grin. "I'll be starting my fourth year in the fall. I plan to be the first former stripper to become the director of the FBI." Nick laughed. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if she made it. She certainly exuded an air of confidence and determination. While Gina gathered her things, Nick drained the last of his coffee and finished his smoke, then followed her outside to where his Grand Marquis was parked. "You don't use the autopilot?" Gina asked as they made the drive to Voluptas. Nick was steering the car manually through the mid-day traffic with practiced ease. "Not unless I have to," Nick said. "This car is pretty much my office, and a lot of the time I'm making calls or running background searches in transit, so I have to use it." "Mr. Llewellyn, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" "Not if you call me Nick - Mr. Llewellyn makes me feel like an old man." Gina smiled. Nick wasn't an unattractive man, nor was he particularly handsome. Average was the word that described him best - average look, average height and average weight. There was a hint of grey in his hair, but he kept it closely trimmed so it wasn't very noticeable. The only thing that was really striking about him were his eyes, which conveyed a sense of pain and a loss of hope. "All right, Nick. What happened? I mean, I did some research on you - you were the best in your field, and now, well from some of the jobs you've worked, it seems like you almost have a death wish." "Maybe life just stopped being fun," Nick said. He pulled the car to the curb in front of Voluptas a short time later, and as Gina climbed out, Nick said, "I really am sorry about your brother, Gina." "I believe you are," she said. "Thanks for the lift, and try to stay out of dark alleys, okay?" By the time he made it back to his condo, it was almost four. Surprisingly, he felt much better, the nausea and throbbing headache of the early afternoon gone. Even his face and ribs felt better. His grumbling stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten all day, and he was rummaging through the freezer when the phone rang, and he was saved from another night alone with a frozen dinner. CHAPTER 3 "Damn, Nick, you act like you haven't eaten in days," Bill Halstead laughed as he watched his friend finish off his second steak. "Well, I haven't eaten all day," Nick told him. "I'm surprised I feel like eating at all, considering how sick I was this morning." "Hey, at least it's over," Bill said. "Now that the divorce is final you can think about moving on. Women can sure mess with your head, can't they?" "Speaking of women, where's Erica tonight?" "Out of town," Bill said. Nick knew from the tone it was a euphemism - Erica was having another affair. He thought about saying something, but decided it was better to let it go. He wasn't in the mood for an argument, and Bill always got a bit testy when Nick pressed him about Erica's habitual infidelity. The odd part about it was it bothered Nick more than it seemed to affect Bill. "Has Gina Pollard tried to contact you or Erica?" he asked to change the subject. "Tim's sister? No, not me anyway, and I'm certain Erica hasn't spoken to her recently. They did have a bit of an ugly encounter after the inquest, but nothing since then. Why do you ask?" Nick gave him a brief rundown of his encounter with Gina and the incident from the previous night. "You don't look bad for someone that got beat up," Bill said. "It sounds a little convenient that she was there though." "She said she wanted to talk to me," Nick told him. "If she was behind the goons that jumped me, they wouldn't have run off. It was probably a mugging attempt." "Or maybe Kodorov wants some payback," Bill suggested. "Nick, you've got to be more careful - that creep is seriously dangerous." "If they had been working for Kodorov, they'd have put a bullet in my head." "I guess so, but you still need to be careful," Bill said. Nick passed on the offer of an after dinner beer and said goodnight to Bill. Back inside his condo, he sat down on the sofa with his tablet PC and went to work on his latest case, a security audit for Sterling MicroTech. It was his first corporate case in a long time, and he had spent several days over the past week going over their security protocols with their head of security. There wasn't much he could offer to improve things there, but part of the audit included a review of their employees, with special attention to their financial records. An unexplained influx of cash was often an indicator that someone had been bought off by a competitor, and all of the employees had signed disclosure agreements when they were hired. "How are you coming on the review, DANI?" "The review is thirty-percent complete, Nick," the sultry feminine voice of his household computer said. He had upgraded his unit with several programs that aided him in his work, and tweaked the voice a bit from the standard lifeless simulacrum. He figured if his only female companionship was a computer, it might as well have a sexy voice. "I have flagged three files of possible interest," DANI continued. "They are on your tablet." "Thank you, DANI," Nick said as he opened the first file. The computer was excellent at analyzing patterns, but he still had to review any questionable files to determine if there was anything warranting further investigation. The three files were easily resolved. One employee had a lucky night in Vegas, and the good sense to quit while he was ahead. The casino records didn't indicate anything unusual in the amounts wagered. The other two were windfalls resulting from court settlements. It was only ten o'clock when he finished reviewing the files, but he felt very tired and decided to turn in early. A good night's sleep should be just the thing to get him over the previous night's excess. CHAPTER 4 "It's time to wake up, Nick." Nick opened his eyes at DANI's gentle but insistent voice and was immediately swept by a wave of intense nausea. He barely made it to the bathroom before retching violently. It was mostly dry heaves, and though his ribs no longer hurt, his abdomen was wracked by violent cramps. There were traces of what appeared to be blood in the vomitus, leading him to consider the possibility that he had taken more of a beating than he had first suspected. When he looked in the mirror, however, he was surprised by what he saw. His black eye and swollen lip were completely healed, as were the bruises on his abdomen. There wasn't even any tenderness where they had once been. As he left the bathroom, his vision blurred, and he swayed unsteadily, bracing himself against the doorframe. He felt hot, feverish, and as much as he hated the thought, he decided he had to get checked out. He called Amelia Baker, and she told him to come see her immediately. The twenty minute trip to Stanford University Hospital was agonizing, and Nick was glad for once to let his Grand Marquis' navigation system do the driving. He felt far worse than he had the previous morning, and if he had tried to drive himself, he would have surely gotten into an accident. The ER waiting room was jammed, but Amelia had notified the desk to admit him immediately. A nurse took his vitals, and then Amelia listened as he told her what had happened. She then did a quick physical examination before sending him for a three-dimensional MRI. After the scan, a nurse took some blood and gave him some medication for the pain, and he was left in an exam room to wait. It was over an hour later when Amelia came into the room, and by the look on her face he knew something was seriously wrong. "Well, first off, we know why you can't remember anything about the night before last," she told him. "We found traces of theta- flourophenyl-tetraen in your blood." "TFT?" Nick said. He was all too familiar with the drug, commonly used in cases of date-rape. "I wasn't...." Amelia shook her head, "No, there's no evidence of sexual assault. In fact, there's no evidence of the injuries you received either. We have an explanation for that as well. Your body is saturated with nanites." "So somebody drugged me, beat the hell out of me, and then gave me nanites to heal me? Amelia, that doesn't make any sense." "I'd say the healing of your injuries was simply a side-effect. The nanites are literally in every part of your body - the concentration is far beyond anything we would do for medical purposes. The highest concentrations are in your stomach and abdomen, so I would say the nanites were administered orally along with the drug. I would guess that the TFT was intended to incapacitate you, so whoever did this could take you somewhere while the nanites did their work. Apparently, it took a little longer to reach full effect than they expected, and you were able to fight them off, even though you can't remember it." That made sense, Nick thought. Someone had slipped him the nanites and the TFT, and then when he left the bar, he had been jumped. When he had managed to get away and staggered from the alley, Gina had been there, and his attackers had fled to avoid being identified. However, her presence struck him even more as a little too convenient. There were other questions that were more pressing at the moment though. "How could nanites I drank spread through my whole body? I'm no expert, but I do know that nanites are administered to specific areas for treatment and don't travel from there." "You're right," Amelia said, "currently nanites have a very limited ability to relocate within the body. These nanites are like nothing I have ever seen, however. Not only have they spread, they're reproducing." "How the hell can they do that?" "Simply put, they're mining the resources necessary from your body," Amelia explained. "They're microscopic, and for them the human body is a treasure trove. Minerals like copper, aluminum, cadmium, even gold and nickel are part of all of us. They're in minute amounts, but more than enough for the nanites to gather the necessary materials to replicate themselves. The rate of replication is slowing, probably because they've reached a pre-programmed concentration, but I'm afraid they're really just getting started with their main purpose." "And that purpose is?" Amelia didn't answer, instead turning on the room's holographic display and slipping a data card into the reader. A three-dimensional image of Nick's insides appeared, and Amelia manipulated the controls to zoom it in on his abdominal area. Two faint oval shapes were highlighted on the display. "Those are ovaries, Nick," she said. "They're underdeveloped currently, but the nanites are continuing to construct them. These faint lines leading from them are the beginnings of fallopian tubes, and in the center here, the first traces of a uterus. This is the source of the abdominal pain you've been experiencing." "Amelia, that's crazy. How could it even be possible? I mean how can I be growing ovaries?" "Crazy or not, it's happening," Amelia said. "As to how, it has to do in part to the homologous structures in male and female anatomy - structures that serve a similar purpose. For instance, the male testes and the female ovaries. The nanites are taking material from your testes and using it to construct ovaries. Exactly how they are doing this I can't answer. It doesn't stop there, either. Take off your shirt, please." Nick did as she asked, and Amelia reached forward, brushing his nipples with her thumbs. The sensation was electric, eliciting a hiss >from Nick. His nipples stiffened and enlarged, and he noticed that there was some slight swelling of the breast tissue beneath them. "Don't tell me...." Amelia nodded. "You're growing breasts. Nick, I can't explain it, but the nanites are transforming you into a woman. They're actually re- writing your genetic code like a virus. We've detected both XY and XX chromosome pairs in your DNA." Nick's mind reeled as he tried to comprehend what he was being told. It still made no sense. Why would someone want to change him into a woman? "What cases are you working on?" Amelia asked. "Who might want to get rid of you?" "Nothing," Nick said. "I'm doing a security audit for Sterling MicroTech, but that's pretty mundane. The only major case I've worked in a month is Vasily Kodorov. His trial is coming up in a few weeks, but it's not my testimony that will put him away; it's that weasel, Vince Spinelli." "But Spinelli is in protective custody, you're not." "Yeah, so Kodorov might want me dead, but turning me into a woman won't accomplish that." "You don't understand, Nick," Amelia said, "the nanites are working in every part of your body, including your brain. Where did you go to first grade?" "It was ... it was ...," Nick searched his memory, trying to recall the name of his elementary school. "I can't remember." "The nanites are restructuring the memory centers of your brain, actually destroying cells and rebuilding them," Amelia told him. "They appear to be working backwards, from your oldest memories forward. If they keep this up, you'll lose everything. The body you'll have will be a blank slate with no past or identity. For all intents and purposes, you will be dead." Nick almost laughed. He should have been glad - hadn't he contemplated death many times over the last two years? On more than one occasion he had sat in his living room, a bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table and his Glock 45 next to it, a single round in the chamber. When Elizabeth had told him she wanted a divorce, he had said he couldn't live without her, and he had meant it. For the last two years, he hadn't been living, he'd been merely existing. "Liz handles cases for a lot of high tech firms," Amelia said. Nick looked at her and shook his head. "That doesn't track. I signed the papers the day before yesterday. Even if I disappeared, it wouldn't get her anything." "Except maybe some twisted revenge," Amelia said. "Amelia, do you really believe Liz could do something like this?" Nick asked. "For God's sake you were her roommate for four years in college, she's your best friend!" "I don't want to believe it, Nick," Amelia said. "But you're my friend too. Liz has been very angry at you - you've fought her on the divorce for two years." "I didn't fight her, I just sort of ... delayed things," Nick said. "I kept hoping if I just bought enough time she'd change her mind." The divorce had gotten a bit ugly, as divorces often do. Nick and Liz had both said things to one another they didn't mean, words spawned by anger and confusion. No matter what had been said, Nick couldn't believe she would do anything to harm him. Vasily Kodorov was another matter. He was a major trafficker in nano- narcotics, and he definitely had reason to want Nick to disappear. Then there was the girl he had met yesterday, Gina Pollard. Her brother Tim had been a grad student in nanotech research, and she had conveniently appeared at the scene of the crime. It was a basic investigative problem - he had a crime and a list of suspects. All he had to do was follow examine the evidence and follow the clues. The biggest problem was time. "How long do I have?" "We were able to analyze some of the programming," Amelia said. "They'll complete their programmed tasks in about twenty-four hours." Nick slipped off the exam table and put his shirt back on. He grabbed his coat from the rack and put it on, then opened the door to leave. "Nick, you can't leave," Amelia said. "We need to monitor you." "Is there anything you can do to stop it?" Amelia shook her head. "There are too many of them. Anything we could do to neutralize them would kill you." "Then I'm going to find out who did this to me." "Wait," Amelia said. She walked to the room's med locker and took out a bottle and gave it to him. "You're going to probably experience intense pain as the transformation progresses; these will help." "Thanks, Amelia." "The entire biotech staff is working on this. If we come up with anything, I'll call you. I want you to keep in touch too. Let me know immediately if you experience any drastic changes." Nick almost asked her to define drastic, but didn't. He would undoubtedly know if it happened. "Nick, you should call Jack." Nick shook his head and said, "No, not yet. Jack's a friend but he's also a cop - if they get involved it could tip off whoever did this. I need time to work some leads without them interfering." It was obvious Amelia wasn't happy with his answer, and Nick sighed. "Look, I'll check in as often as I can. It's almost ten AM now - if you don't hear from me by six tomorrow morning, take everything you've got to Jack." "I don't like it, but I'll do as you ask," Amelia said. "Please be careful." "I will," Nick said. On impulse he gave Amelia a hug and said, "You're a good friend. Why didn't we ever get together?" "I'm not your type," Amelia laughed. "I'm not a blonde like Liz and Erica." "I'm an idiot," Nick said as he turned towards the door. "No argument there," Amelia replied. Nick's mind was racing as he left the exam room. What was happening to him was hard to process; that with every tick of the clock he was literally being erased, reformed. He wondered what he would look like when it was all over, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to concentrate on the present. By the time he reached his car in the parking structure across the street, he had the beginning of a plan. Kodorov was the prime suspect, and the more he thought about it, the more it looked like the kind of twisted scheme the mobster would enjoy. It had to have been Kodorov's goons in the alley. They had gotten someone to slip him the nanites and the TFT in the bar, and then jumped him as he left. If he hadn't managed to fight them off, he'd likely be in some secluded location, listening to Kodorov gloat as he was transformed. After that, Nick shuddered to think what might lay in store for the woman he would become. He reached his car and slid into the driver's seat, reaching over to the glove compartment as he did and keying in the security code. He removed his holstered Glock 45 automatic pistol from the compartment and clipped it to his belt just behind his right hip. It may be the last thing he ever did, but he would make sure that Kodorov didn't get away with this. Nick started the car and then set the countdown timer on his watch - twenty-four hours and counting. CHAPTER 5 His first stop was Sterling MicroTech. He needed to get information on who might be capable of producing nanites like those that were in him, and his ongoing security audit for the company got him in to see the CEO, Bryce Sterling, right away. After checking his weapon at the security gate in the lobby, he rode the express elevator up to Sterling's office. "Mr. Llewellyn, I'm very busy, so we'll have to make this brief," Sterling said as Nick entered his office. "I wasn't in favor of this ridiculous audit in the first place, but the board insisted." "This isn't about the audit," Nick said. He quickly explained the situation - he would have preferred to keep the matter private, but he needed the CEO's help, and the surest way to get that was by telling him what was going on. "There are only a half dozen or so companies working on that kind of technology, including ours," Sterling said, after Nick finished. His face displayed shocked amazement, but there was something else too - fascination. The nanites in Nick's body were potentially worth billions, and Sterling was too shrewd not to recognize an opportunity. In helping Nick, his company would be able to gain valuable information. "My head of research, Dr. Tallman, will be able to provide you with more useful information," he continued as he lifted his phone. "I'll let her know you're on the way down." Nick thanked the CEO and left his office, making his way via the elevator to the research and development level of Sterling MicroTech. He was met as he exited the elevator by a tall, attractive brunette in her late thirties. "I just got off the phone with Dr. Baker," she said without preamble. "I have the data they collected, but I'd like to try to get a sample of the nanites for analysis here." "Dr. Tallman, I'm on a tight schedule," Nick said. "I understand that, but if we are to have any hope of tracing these nanites, I need to be able to examine them closely." "All right, let's get to it," Nick said, gesturing for her to lead the way. "Sterling said you've been working on nanites that could do this." "Everyone is," Tallman said. "Currently, nanites are only capable of targeting specific areas of the body and for very specific purposes. If we could develop nanites capable of operating throughout the body, we could virtually eliminate disease and perhaps even aging. The difficulty is not so much in the hardware; it's in the programming. There's not a lot of space for code, so nanites can only perform limited tasks." "But why develop nanites that can change someone's gender?" "Do you know what the number one use for nanites is?" Tallman asked as she led Nick into a large lab. She had him sit down in a chair as she began assembling equipment from a nearby table. "No, I don't." "Cosmetic alterations," she told him. "Breast augmentations and reductions, face-lifts and general weight loss, and body sculpting are the primary uses. A complete makeover requires numerous applications. Nanites capable of multi-tasking could be administered once and carry out the entire process. They could even be used to replace conventional procedures for gender reassignment." "But that wouldn't change someone on the inside, could it?" Nick said, tensing as a series of cramps shuddered through his abdomen. "In theory, yes," Dr. Tallman admitted as she walked over to Nick. She had him roll up his left sleeve and strapped a device to his arm near the elbow. The small box had a video screen built into its face, and a receptacle into which was fitted a vacuum tube for collecting a blood sample. "Nanites are already in use to manipulate DNA," Dr. Tallman continued. "We've developed the technology here at MicroTech to the point where nanites can do the things these are doing to you, actually transforming or constructing organs. As I said, the major hurdle is developing a way to program more complex instructions into the nanites." "They must have taken a pint of blood at the hospital," Nick remarked as she made some final adjustments to the device on his arm. "I'm not so much interested in your blood as what's in it," Tallman said as she studied the screen. "This will sting a little." Nick felt the prick of a needle, and the collection tube filled with blood. Dr. Tallman removed the device from his arm and then took the sample tube and inserted it into a scanning unit against one wall of the lab. After several seconds, an image appeared on the unit's display screen. "It's beautiful," Dr. Tallman whispered. Displayed at a magnification of over two million times, the nanite on the screen looked like a gear with eight stubby teeth. Multi-jointed appendages extended from each of these teeth, tipped with claw-like manipulators. In the center of the gear was a sphere that resembled a soccer ball. As the image rotated, a needle-like proboscis came into view, extending from the central sphere. "I wonder how beautiful it would look if it was turning you into a man," Nick said. "Point taken, Mr. Llewellyn." "My time is measured in hours, Dr. Tallman, and formality seems a waste of that. Why don't you call me Nick?" The pretty scientist smiled and extended her hand saying, "We were never formally introduced, Nick. I'm Karina Tallman. Forgive me if I sound overly clinical." "I understand your admiration for the technology, even if I don't share it under the circumstances," Nick said. "What can you tell me about it?" "Well, the design is similar to standard nanites. The major difference is it has double the number of manipulators, and the central sphere is totally new. I would surmise it contains the new genetic matrix, and the proboscis is used to penetrate your cell membranes and re-write your existing DNA. "The speed with which the nanites are transforming you is much faster. The amount of breast development you've experienced would take several days with standard nanites. They're drawing on your body for the resources necessary to effect the transformation. Have you eaten recently?" "Not since last night," Nick said. "Now that you mention it, I'm famished; is that important?" "Yes, it is. From the data Dr. Baker sent us, you've already lost a significant amount of weight as the nanites have consumed excess body fat. They'll start working on muscle tissue now, and if you don't eat regularly, you'll get progressively weaker." "Could that slow them down, maybe even stop them all together?" "It could slow them down, but it could also kill you," Karina said. "At any rate, Nick, if you want to find out who did this, you'll have to keep your strength up." "Will you be able to tell me who made these things?" "I don't know. Hopefully, we can at least identify some of the components." "Let me know as soon as you have anything," Nick said, rolling his sleeve back down and rising from the chair. "I've got some people to see." Dr. Tallman pulled a data card from the pocket of her lab coat and handed it to Nick. He scanned the information printed on the card's surface, noting that she had a single number for both her cell phone and home phone, just as he did. He retrieved his coat from the rack near the door and took one of his own cards from a pocket and gave it to her. Then he pulled out his cell phone and slipped her card into the data slot. The contact information was downloaded into the phone's memory, and simultaneously transferred to his car's onboard computer as well as his home. "Nick, we'll do everything we possibly can," she said. "It sickens me that someone would do something like this." "I know the feeling," Nick said. He turned to leave just as the door to the lab opened and Hank Garrick, head of security for Sterling MicroTech entered. He was taller than Nick, though not as stocky, and his nose was encased in a plastic splint, the area around it a dark purple. The two men had been working closely on the security audit of the company, and greeted each other with a handshake. "Mr. Sterling filled me in on the situation, Nick," Garrick said. "Anything you need, just let me know." "Thanks, Hank," Nick said. "At the moment I can be more effective on my own, but I'll be sure to give you a call if I need some backup." Nick gestured to the nose splint and added, "Looks like you took quite a rap there." Garrick grinned and said, "Sparring match at the gym. Things got a little serious." "Been there myself," Nick said. He trained three times a week to keep his martial arts skills honed, and had gotten more than a few bruises while sparring. "Nick, be careful," Karina said. "Your body has only begun the transformation process. As it progresses, you're likely going to become weaker as your muscle mass is altered, and your shifting center of gravity will make you unsteady. Your mental and emotional state will be in turmoil as well." "I'm always careful, Karina," Nick said as he left the lab. As he rode the elevator back up to the lobby, Nick mulled over what he had learned. None of the information shed any light on who was behind this, but he couldn't consider the trip wasted. The resources of MicroTech were possibly his best chance for getting a solid lead as to who had manufactured the nanites. As much as he wanted revenge for what had been done to him, he had to consider the bigger picture. Someone out there had their hands on some very dangerous technology, and obviously had no regard for how it was used. He stopped at the security gate and retrieved his pistol, and as he turned towards the exit, he saw a familiar figure entering the lobby. "Bill, what brings you here?" Bill started at the sound of his voice, and a broad smile spread across his face. "Hey, Nick," Bill said, giving his friend a warm handshake. "You know the drill - I'm going to see if I can wheedle some grant money out of Sterling. You still working that security audit?" "It's on the back burner," Nick said. "I've got more pressing matters at the moment." "Are you okay? You look a little pale." "I seem to have caught a bug," Nick said, not wanting to worry his friend. "Erica make it back from her trip okay?" "She always does," Bill grinned. "Why do you put up with it, Bill?" "Love is funny, you should know that," Bill said. "Besides, I couldn't afford to drive a Ferrari on my salary." It was an old argument, and Nick decided it was pointless to rehash it now. Erica had the money, and Bill had the academic credentials. They each provided something the other wanted. It wasn't like his own failed marriage, where he had provided nothing but love, which in the end had turned out to be not enough. Nick tried to recall their wedding, but the images that had once been so clear were hazy now. When he reached further back, he couldn't even remember where he had met Elizabeth. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he had to reach out to Bill to stop himself from falling. "Hey, you sure you're all right?" Bill asked. "It's nothing," Nick said. "Look, Bill, something is going on, and I hope there'll be time to tell you about it. If there isn't, well, I just want to say you've been a good friend." "Okay, you are scaring me now. What the hell is going on?" "No time now, buddy. I'll call you later," Nick said, leaving his friend staring after him. After leaving the building, Nick decided he'd better follow Karina's advice and get something to eat. He stopped at a deli, and once he started eating, it was like a floodgate opened. He ended up wolfing down two huge sandwiches, but afterwards he did feel steadier. The food helped clear his head, and he decided on his next course of action. The scene of the crime was the logical place to check out next, but Sullivan's wouldn't be open yet. That left him with the suspects, and number one on the list was Vasily Kodorov. Finding Kodorov was not a problem, nor was getting in to see him likely to present any difficulty. Getting out alive - that was another matter. CHAPTER 6 There was just something about mobsters and restaurants, no matter what country they came from. Dionysos was a Greek restaurant owned by Vasily Kodorov, and the business was entirely legitimate as far as Nick knew. Kodorov had never used it to launder money or even as a meeting place. The restaurant represented his public face, an effort to present himself as a mere business owner that didn't really succeed with anyone that mattered. Dionysos was where Kodorov could usually be found these days, playing the part of the wrongly accused as he awaited trial on the murder charge. It rankled Nick that Kodorov had been let out on bail, and the fact that he hadn't tried to skip town only served to reinforce Nick's belief that he was behind everything. Nick knew the restaurant wasn't open yet, so he pulled into the alley beside it. He knew the front door would be locked, but the service door would be open for deliveries as the kitchen staff prepared for the afternoon. As Nick exited his car, he glanced down the alley at the building across the street. He caught a glimpse of movement in a window on the third floor and smiled. When he reached the service door, Nick didn't try to be unobtrusive; he just walked right in and headed towards the private dining room that was Kodorov's office. As he expected, he was intercepted before he got there by two of Kodorov's bodyguards. They frisked him, one taking his weapon and stuffing it into his belt. Then they ran an electronics scanner over his body before escorting him to the Russian. Nick took a quick count as he entered the room - besides the two goons escorting him and Kodorov, there were two more men in the room. He didn't need to see the weapons to know they were all armed, except Kodorov of course. He wouldn't risk getting caught with a weapon while he was out on bail. "What do you want, Nick?" Kodorov asked, pronouncing the name Neek, thanks to his accent. "You have balls to come here like this." "For the present," Nick said, earning him a look from Kodorov. It was hard to tell whether it was of confusion or understanding, however. Kodorov was not a visually expressive individual. "I'm here about nanites, some very special nanites," Nick continued. "I think you know something about them." "I don't follow." "Let me spell it out, and I'll keep it slow so the words will get through your thick skull. Someone's trying to kill me, and I think it's you. If you think slipping me some nanites is going to make your troubles go away, you've been taking your own product." "If I wanted to get rid of you, Nick, you'd be dead," Kodorov said. "But why would I want that? You can't hurt me - the only witness you found that's really a threat is Spinelli, and you know what Vince is. My lawyers will tear him to shreds. If you were to disappear that would only make me look bad." As much as he hated to admit it, Nick knew Kodorov was right. The mobster was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. High profile trials like his were decided as much in the media as the courtroom. These days it was impossible to prevent contamination of the jury pool, so much so that motions to change venue because of pre-trial publicity were summarily denied. There was every possibility the Russian was right about the trial as well. Vince Spinelli was not the most credible witness in the world. He had started out as a small time pusher, peddling everything from stims to neoheroin. He hit the big time with Kodorov, and oversaw a major chunk of the distribution network. Everything had been gravy - until Spinelli's seventeen-year-old daughter had gotten hooked on nanonarcs. She couldn't get them through her father's pushers, they all knew he would kill them if he found out, so she went to the street level, which was like playing Russian Roulette with only one empty chamber. One night she had been found dead, beaten and raped - just like Salina Mendez, the murdered SJSU coed. That was how Nick had broken Spinelli and gotten him to spill his guts - he had just shown him a picture of his own murdered daughter. He had uncovered other evidence and witnesses that placed the murdered girl in Kodorov's house the night she disappeared, but all that rested on the testimony of Spinelli, who had seen the girl go into Kodorov's bedroom, heard her screams, and later helped dispose of the body. As one of Kodorov's lieutenants, it wouldn't be difficult for the defense to cast doubts about the motivation behind his testimony. They might even accuse him of being the actual killer. Nick didn't think it would work, but all they needed to do was establish a reasonable doubt in the mind of one juror. "Now, just what are these nanites that I supposedly slipped you?" Kodorov asked. "Something I might be interested in perhaps?" Nick ignored the question and turned to leave. The bodyguard that had frisked him stepped forward to block his path. He towered over Nick, and his face bore the scars of numerous fights. He stared down at Nick, as if daring him to try something, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. Those muscles were useless as Nick drove his knee up into the goon's groin. The Russian's eyes crossed, and he doubled over, unable to even cry out as the pain overwhelmed him. Nick's left hand snatched his confiscated Glock from the bodyguard's waistband as he grabbed the back of his shirt with his right, smashing his face down onto the table in front of Kodorov. The bodyguard slumped to the floor as Nick snapped the Glock up, the barrel pointed right between Kodorov's eyes. The other three bodyguards froze in place, their hands near their own weapons. "Go ahead," Nick told them. "Your boss will catch the first bullet." "You'd never get out of here alive," Kodorov said. "Look into my eyes, Kodorov - I don't give a damn. Have your boys drop their weapons and stand over in the corner, or I swear I'll save the taxpayer's the cost of a trial." "Do as he says!" Kodorov ordered. He had seen it, just as Nick said - he knew he was facing a man who didn't fear death. "On your feet," Nick ordered. Kodorov rose, and Nick grabbed his collar and pressed the gun to his head as they made their way back to the service exit. "You're a dead man now, Nick," Kodorov said as Nick shoved him out into the alley. "I'll make you scream just like I made that little bitch scream. She begged me not to kill her, but you'll be begging for death before I'm finished with you." "You're right, I am dead, so you won't get the satisfaction," Nick told him. He dragged the mobster over to his car and shoved him down onto the hood. He pressed the Glock hard against Kodorov's temple, and leaned close to whisper in his ear. "If I find out you're lying, I'll be back to finish this if it's the last thing I do." Nick pulled Kodorov back to his feet and gave him a hard shove across the alley. The effort nearly drained him, but he kept the gun trained on the mobster as he got into his car. As soon as he closed the door his pressed the gas pedal to the floor, the auto-ignition activating the hydrogen fuel cells. The engine hummed to life and the tires squealed as Nick sped away from the scene. At any rate, Kodorov appeared to be a dead end, If he had been responsible, Nick would have expected some gloating. The irony of turning Nick into a woman would have been too much for him to resist. He thought about Kodorov's words about making him scream like Salina, and a chill ran down his spine. No, he was certain if the Russian knew what was happening, he would have said something then. He just hoped the police surveillance team in the building across the street had been on their toes. CHAPTER 7 Nick parked his car on the street outside Sullivan's and then glanced at his face in the rearview mirror. He didn't notice any changes, but on closer examination he thought his hair looked a bit longer, and his skin was smooth, even though he hadn't shaved that morning. He ran his hand over his cheek, and couldn't feel the slightest trace of stubble. "I never did like shaving anyway," he muttered as he climbed out of the car. His pants were slightly loose about his waste, and he tightened his belt a notch to compensate. The weight of his Glock and the spare magazines for it wasn't helping matters. Sullivan's was practically empty so early in the afternoon, which suited Nick fine. He frequented the bar enough that he knew the schedules of the employees, so he knew the person he needed to talk to should be there. "Hiya Nick, kinda early for you isn't it?" the young woman behind the bar said as he approached. She was a petite girl of oriental descent, her hair styled in a short bob. "I'm working Lisa," Nick told her as he slid onto a stool. "You were here Monday night. I need to know if you saw me with anyone." "What, you don't remember?" Lisa laughed. "Geez Nick, you didn't drink that much." "That's just the point, Lisa. Someone slipped me something and the whole night's a blank. Anything you can tell me would help." "Oh shit, Nick, sorry I didn't mean anything," Lisa said. "I did see you with a blonde. It caught my attention ?cause, well you tend to drink alone." "A blonde? What did she look like?" "Sorry, Nick, I only saw her from behind. It was pretty crazy in here with that bunch from the convention here. I think you left with her though." "Do you know who waited on us?" "Chrissie had that table," Lisa told him. "She's in LA right now visiting her mom, she'll be back on Friday though." "That's too late," Nick sighed. "Do you have her mom's number?" "No I don't - I don't even know her mom's name. Nick, are you okay?" "I'm fine," Nick lied. "Thanks for your help, Lisa." Nick returned to his car and for several minutes he just sat there thinking. Gina Pollard was a blonde - but so was Liz. Without the name of Chrissie's mother, tracking her down would require time he just didn't have. "I'll just have to do it the hard way," he sighed as he pulled away from the curb. His stomach grumbled loudly, and he decided he would have to take the time to eat first. He stopped at a fast food place where he picked up three big burgers and a milkshake at the drive through. He gave the car's nav system the address of Elizabeth's office building, and while the car drove itself, he ate. When he finished the burgers, he took two of the pills Amelia had given him to combat the aches that seemed to be in every part of his body. He decided he better check in as well, and he instructed the car phone to dial her. "How are you, Nick?" Amelia asked. "Have you noticed any changes?" He told Amelia the changes he had noticed, and about the body aches and weakness he had experienced. He also told her what Karina had said about eating to keep his strength up. "She's right, if you don't eat you could lapse into a coma," Amelia told him. "Unfortunately, it's likely that it will also accelerate the process." "I don't appear to have much choice," Nick grumbled. "I'm on my way to Liz's office right now, I'll call you when I'm done there." Nick ended the call and drained the last of his milkshake. He was just about to switch back to manual control when he was hit by an intense wave of dizziness. The world spun about madly, and he slumped against the shoulder restraints and passed out. CHAPTER 8 A rapping on the window brought him back to consciousness with a start, and Nick looked out to see a uniformed security guard staring at him in concern. "Are you all right, miss?" ~ Oh shit, he thinks I'm a woman! How long was I out? ~ "I ... I'm fine, thanks," Nick said, his voice husky and higher pitched. "Are you here on business?" the guard asked, his tone suspicious. "I ... I'm here to see Elizabeth ... Elizabeth ...." Nick struggled to recall Liz's maiden name, but it just wasn't there. "Could you step out of the vehicle, please?" Nick opened the door and got out of the car, having to grab his pants to keep them from falling. The look on the guard's face only confirmed what Nick already knew - he looked ridiculous. "I need to see some identification, miss." Nick knew he couldn't show the guard his ID. If he did, the next thing that would happen would be a call to the police. "It's all right, Sam, she's a client." When he heard his ex-wife's voice, he nearly fainted with relief. The guard turned and nodded to Liz, and then left them alone. "Oh my God ... Nick ... is that really you?" Nick nodded. The look of horror on Liz's face erased all doubt he had about her involvement - she had never been able to conceal her emotions very well. He took a step towards her, and his feet came out of his shoes, causing him to stumble. He would have fallen if Liz hadn't caught him. Feeling her arms around him was all it took to break his emotional control. He started sobbing violently, his body shaking. He had never experienced such a loss of control, and it frightened him. Liz didn't say anything, she just held him while he cried for several minutes. When he finally finished, he pushed himself upright, and walked shakily until he could lean against the car. "Liz, how did you know?" "Amelia called me," she said. "You told her you were coming here over three hours ago." "Three hours?" Nick looked at his watch and saw that it was well past five. He turned and looked at his reflection in the car window. He did look like a woman, perhaps what his sister might have looked like if he had one. Make that his younger sister, because he didn't look a day past thirty. Nick was an average looking man, which had been a great asset as an investigator. He was astounded to see that the softening of his features had turned his average male face into that of a pretty woman. His hair had grown at least two inches, and amidst his brown strands were red highlights. His face obviously wasn't all that had changed. His clothes literally hung off him. Despite the now too large shirt, there was no hiding the fact that his breasts had grown considerably, and while the waist of his trousers was too big, the hips were almost too tight. "Nick, who did this to you?" "I don't know," Nick said. "I'm following up a few leads, but I had to see you one more time ... I had to tell you I'm sorry." "Nick, I've told you it wasn't anything you did," Liz sighed. "It just ... I wish we had just stayed friends." "I can't turn off the way I feel, Liz. I still love you." Liz looked uncomfortable, as she always did these days when he told her how he felt about her. "Nick, Amelia wants you back at the hospital. She wants to record the changes, so ... so we can prove who you are ... afterwards." Nick nodded and turned back towards the car, having to hold his pants to keep them from falling. He felt like a kid wearing his father's clothes. "I'll meet you there in thirty minutes," Liz said "I'm going to stop by my place and get you some clothes. You look like you're about my size now." "I guess I can't walk around like this," Nick admitted, not at all thrilled about wearing her clothes. "Nick, you need to bring the police in on this," she said. Nick shook his head. "I don't have the time. They'll spend hours taking a statement and grilling me. I have sixteen hours left, maybe less." "I don't like it, but then you always did do things your own way," Liz sighed. CHAPTER 9 Amelia took a series of digital photos to document his changes. Nick had been acutely embarrassed to have Liz present as he stood there nude. His genitals were still male, at least on the outside, but they were shrunken and after another full body scan Amelia informed him they were non-functional. His female reproductive organs were nearly fully developed on the inside, and his body's hormone levels were consistent with those of a woman. "You've lost twenty pounds since this morning," Amelia informed him. Nick barely heard her. He was staring with horrified fascination at his right hand. It was much smaller, the fingers long and slender. His arms and legs were also thinner, and his body had developed a slight but noticeable hour-glass shape. "Yes, the nanites are even altering your bone structure," Amelia told him. "How is the pain?" "It's gone," Nick said. "Other than being scared shitless, I feel fine." "The latest scan shows the nanites are suppressing some of your pain receptors," Amelia said. "Why did I start changing so much faster? And why do I seem to be getting younger?" "I told you that food might accelerate the changes. The food is providing the nanites with raw materials. As to your age regression, the nanites are literally reconstructing you cell by cell based on the genetic matrix they're carrying." "Great, so I could wind up a little girl?" "Little girls don't need bras, Nick," Liz said. "Your physical appearance suggest you'll still be an adult," Amelia said. "At the worst, you may end up a teenager." "I don't want to hear anymore," Nick said as he slipped off the exam table. "I've got to go." The clothes Liz had provided fit his new appearance, and he would draw less attention wearing them, but he still felt uncomfortable. He rationalized the black skirt suit and turquoise blouse as a disguise - whoever had given