A Wish the Heart Makes: Fornever in Blue Genes

by Tigger

From Walt Disney's "Cinderella":
 
"A dream is a wish your heart makes 
When you're fast asleep. 
In dreams you lose your heartaches 
Whatever you wish for, you keep. 

Have faith in your dreams and someday 
Your rainbow will come smiling through. 
No matter how your heart is grieving 
If you keep on believing

the dream that you wish will come true."


From "Forever in Blue Jeans"
Written by Neil Diamond and Richard Bennett

"Money talks,
But it don't sing and dance
And it don't walk.
And long as I can have you here with me
I'd much rather be
Forever in blue jeans. 

Honey's sweet,
But it ain't nothin' next to baby's treat.
And if you pardon me,
I'd like to say,
We'll do okay
Forever in blue jeans."

Prologue: 

". . .e's coming out of it, Doctor.  We will need you here -
stat!"  The voice that spoke was soft, intense and controlled. 
The "On my way, Nurse," response had the digital purity that
no real human voice could possess.  Both speakers' tones were
just barely above whispers.  Yet both resounded in his head
like low order explosive detonations.  

His eyes opened slowly against lashes sticky from sleep, and
then winced back tightly shut against the sudden, almost
unbearably bright light.  Where the hell was he?  It was the
smell and the stark, unrelieved white he'd seen in that short
instant his eyes had been open that tipped him off.  *A
hospital?  OMIGOD! I made it!  I'm alive!*  

"Easy, Matthew.  Let the sedation wear off completely before
you try moving about too much."  That voice!  He recognized
that voice.  Slowly he turned toward the voice and reopened
his eyes.

"Robert."  His mouth slammed shut on that one word.  His
voice!  What in god's name had happened to his voice?  After
more than half a century, he knew the sound of his own voice
and that was *not* his voice!  Had he sustained some injury to
his throat requiring a larynx reconstruction?  Slewing his
head around, he searched for and found what he was looking
for.  

A mirror.  

For ten, infinitely long seconds, his groggy mind refused to
accept what his eyes saw in its mocking, silvered depths. 
Then, finally, there had been no other choice.

And then, he heard that "not-my-voice" again, yelling for
someone. . . something.  The only answer to the call was a
strange, scalliony taste in the back of his mouth, and the
world went black once more.

Chapter 1.  The End of the Beginning.

It had actually *worked* - there in his mirror was absolute,
incontrovertible proof that thirty years of blood and sweat,
research and study, success and failure, had finally born
fruit.  The feeling of triumph and vindication should have
been nearly orgasmic.  

The problem was that he hadn't expected to be the first test
subject for the process.  Even when circumstances had made it
his only chance at life, he'd certainly never anticipated . .
. *this*.

"Are you all right?" a quiet voice asked from the other side
of the bed.  Awkwardly, he turned to face the man who had just
spoken.  Dr. Robert West was a short man, in fact, much
shorter than Matthew had been.  Was he still the shorter of
the pair, Matthew wondered?  From his prone position in bed,
it was difficult to tell. 

For a brief moment, uncertainty lined Robert's normally
cherubic face.  As well it might, Matthew's mind snarled
angrily.  Bob West had been his best friend and colleague for
almost 25 years, and for him to have been even an unwitting
party to this . . .  this debacle was simply unbelievable. 

The patient's name was or perhaps more accurately *had been*
Matthew Sorenson, but that did not seem important now. 
Nothing so mundane as a mere name was important compared to
the stark reality that THE Project had been tested, very
successfully, on its own creator.

Robert West was a physician and a geneticist - a brilliant one
- a man whose own special dream had meshed and kept pace with
Matthew Sorenson's for most of their adult lives.  He was
sixty something years old, a bit paunchy these days and more
than just a little absent minded, except when he was focused
on *THE* (for Total Human Engineering) Project.  It was that
last characteristic that had permitted whoever was behind this
heinous act to use him in their plottings.

THE Project was an outgrowth of the Human Genome Project
started in the last decade of the previous century.  The
genome effort had ultimately required the use of more
computing power than had existed cumulatively in the entire
world before that time.  Completed about 35 years ago, the
Human Genome Project had developed the human DNA signature
database, including documentation of its genetic implications. 


Matthew Sorenson had been a graduate student at M.I.T. at the
time the database had finally been published, studying
semidigital bio-networks.  Dr. Robert West had just joined the
Medical School faculty and was working with Matt and his
thesis advisor on a way to use bio-cybernetics as a cure for
spinal injuries.  Out of that backdrop had sprung Matt's
project of a lifetime - the systematic and non-destructive
reprogramming of the human DNA molecule within the cell, or
more correctly, within *all* of an individual's cells.

Bob West had joined the quest.  Their initial goal had been
challenging enough on its own merits - to find tools to cure
and eliminate all genetically transmitted diseases at their
source, and to use genetic reengineering to improve resistance
to other diseases.  Hemophilia and sickle cell anemia fell
first, followed by a host of other such diseases and
infirmities.  All could now be corrected in the womb,
relatively cheaply when compared to the cost of a lifetime of
post natal treatment.  Even cancer eventually fell victim to
their skills, provided that the disease was discovered early
enough that their new treatments could still genetically turn
off the cancer's uncontrolled, wildfire cellular reproduction.

Then, five years ago there had been a breakthrough in
computing technology that would change forever the way science
and engineering approached the physical world.  Before that
breakthrough, the scope of genetic reprogramming was
computationally limited to only a few gene sites on only one
or two chromosomes at a time.  Remarkably, that had been
enough.  Most genetically-vectored diseases were remedied once
one or two protein chains had been corrected or enhanced. 
There had been more than enough computational power to control
that type of genetic modification.  However, what was
economically and even technologically feasible before the
breakthrough had been completely inadequate to the task of
making any substantial changes in the human organism as a
whole.

Inadequate, that is, until some genius finally reconciled the
seemingly insurmountable conflicts between the theories of
quantum mechanics and of complex structures.  This work, given
the unfortunate name of quantum chaos theory by the press,
changed everything.  Computing structures and system designs
truly changed overnight. 

Matthew had personally done a great deal of the actual
original theoretical work.  The end result of Matthew's
researches was that the area formerly blurred by Hiesenburg's
Uncertainty Principle became an easily detectable hard line. 
The ability to store and order data in really minute bits was
no longer limited as it once had been.  Computational power
seemed to grow orders of magnitude with each passing day.

When it had first been proclaimed "complete", the staggeringly
huge Genome Project DataBase (now simply called the GPD) and
its five completely redundant backup copies had consumed
almost 1% of the data storage capacity available to humanity
at the time.  With the advent of the First Generation QuantCha
(pronounced "quant - kay") machines and data structures, all
of that information fit onto something as small, portable and
common in the 21st Century as floppy disks had been in the
late Twentieth Century.  Improvement in computational speed
had been just as dramatic.

Much of this new power was immediately focused on trying to
find a way around Einstein's still prevalent General Theory of
Relativity, and thus find a means to travel faster than light. 
The stars still beckoned, and once again, humankind wanted to
answer that siren call to boldly go where no human had gone
before.

But Matthew Sorenson had heard a different song, had dreamt
another dream - genetically re-engineering as nearly "perfect"
a human being as was "humanly" possible.  Of course, this was
not a widely popular idea.  Over the course of Robert's and
his incredibly successful and beneficial work on genetic
cures, the pair had been regularly harassed by various groups
for "tinkering with things beyond mortal ken".  With that
response for fixing little glitches in the genetic program,
the outcry they might expect to their wholesale "revision"
work did not bear thinking about.

So, they had sold their old company and started all over
again, but kept the new company's true purpose a closely
guarded secret.  The huge payoff from the sale had been
invested to start up a new company - BioCybernetics. 
Supposedly a research firm for developing new bio-material-
based computers, the new company was really a front for Robert
and Matthew's real goal: developing technologies intended to
re-engineer a living human being. 

Only four people - the medical genius, Robert West, Matthew
Soreson himself, the company's legal eagle, Adam Jacobs, and
their chief of security, Catherine Donovan - knew the entire
picture.  Everyone else working on the tightly compartmented
Project only knew their little piece of the puzzle along with
some cover story that explained why they were doing that work. 
The spinoffs of those puzzle pieces helped keep up
appearances, helped keep the multi-media tabloids off their
personal and corporate backs, while helping to pay the bills. 
And what bills they had, because tinkering of this type was
not cheap.

And now, they had succeeded.  Nerves still on overload, Matt
looked into the mirror again, just barely stopping himself
from reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the person who
looked back at him.  Marshaling his considerable will power,
Matt tried to clear his vision, tried to make sure the image
was still unchanged because he still could not (or perhaps did
not really want to) believe what had happened to him.  The
reflection stubbornly refused to change. 

No fifty-five year old, two meter tall (6'6"), slightly
overweight 120 kilogram (260 lbs) male with gray eyes and
rapidly thinning dark brown hair liberally shot with gray
looked back into Matthew's eyes.

Of course, he'd expected to be different when, or rather *if*
he woke up from the nightmare his life had become.  Certain
changes had been absolutely required, given the circumstances,
if he was going to survive that disaster.  He'd even been
ready (hell, HAPPY) to face the changes that would have been
evidenced in his mirror if the few personal requests he'd
slipped in had worked, but *nothing* had prepared him for what
he saw in that mirror the first time.

No, the image in the mirror was more than a quarter of meter
shorter, massed out at about 60 kilos tops, had blue eyes and
auburn hair, and appeared to be about 25 years old, plus or
minus five years.

And, oh by the way, that reflected image was female.  

Spectacularly, dramatically female.

Matt pinched himself one last time to make sure that he really
was not dreaming some drug induced nightmare, and yelped.  He
wasn't.  It might very well be a nightmare, but he was
definitely awake and living it.  He, or rather *she* was all
homo sapiens-female, complete with the "right" internal
plumbing, at least as far as she'd been able to discern from
the secretive exploration of what was "down there" she'd done
earlier with "her" finely boned and slender fingers.  

A coughing sound broke through his near fugue.  Blushing
furiously at being caught checking herself out, Matt gave
himself a stern mental shake back to the present before
turning his face back Bob once again, "As all right as I can
be expected to be," Matthew responded, recalling the question
his friend had asked him however many moments ago.  "But I
think I'm still in shock."

He nodded at that.  "Even though we succeeded beyond my most
optimistic projections, I expected you'd have that reaction. 
That's why I have you mildly sedated with a depression block. 
Come, Matthew, let me help you to a more comfortable seat. 
Nurse!" 

Slowly, Matt sat up and let the doctor and nurse each take one
of his, um, her thin little arms.  They didn't have any
trouble practically carrying her to a nearby easy chair.  Even
seated, his new body felt very strange.  His sense of balance
was way off.  Mass distribution was all wrong.  Body parts
were not where they were supposed to be.  Hell, some body
parts were gone and some new ones added.  The unfamiliar
weight high on his chest was particularly disconcerting.  He
felt like the slightest ill considered movement, even in the
chair, might cause him to overbalance and fall face-first onto
the floor.

Carefully, thinking consciously of each minor movement, he
eased the unfamiliar body further back into the chair.  "Thank
you, Robert."  That "not-my-voice" was a low, husky alto.  If
he'd still been a male, those rich, sultry tones would have
definitely caught Matthew Sorenson's interest.  Now, there was
an interesting thought.  He voiced it cautiously.  "Am I still
Matthew?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Bob asked incredulously.

Taking a deep breath, Matt gathered resources to withstand the
blow he fully expected to come next.  "Am . . .  I . . . still
. . . Matthew Sorenson?"  Each syllable clipped off, and spat
out individually.

The question left Robert momentarily nonplused, then he
recovered.  "Oh, you mean legally," he smiled for the first
time since the surprise scene following the reawakening. 
"Reasonable question, since we didn't have any time to discuss
the legal niceties when you arrived back on earth.  To answer
your question, yes, you are.  There is absolutely no doubt
about that, legally or otherwise." 

Skepticism shown so clearly on Matt's face that Robert moved
on quickly.  "Yes, well, once I started decoding the program
file you had under personal security lock and saw the physical
characteristics that you supposedly wanted now that you had to
become the first test subject, I called Adam Jacobs back and
conferred with him." 

Matt nodded, understanding.  Adam served as Matthew Sorenson's
personal lawyer in addition to being the company's lawyer.  

"Since your expressed wishes were," Bob stopped as he
reconsidered what he'd say.  "Ummm, since we had so little
time to do the optimizations and viability checks to ensure
your program would work, I gave all the official documents
over to Adam.  He has assured me that everything that was
needed was done to assure your continued control of the
company and that your . . . transition was fully and
completely documented.  Legally, there is no question - you
are as you were - Matthew Eric Sorenson and the majority owner
of BioCybernetics, Inc.  At least, according to Adam and the
best brains in our legal department."

Frowning, Matthew struggled to digest all that.  "But why did
you do this?  This is NOT what we discussed during my rather
hasty return from the Moonbase.  It certainly isn't what I put
in my personal "wish" file.  All I wanted was to be a little
shorter, a lot lighter, have a killer metabolism and no male
pattern baldness.  Everything else was to remain essentially
the same.  I damn sure didn't want to end up a GIRL, for god's
sake!"  

"I know that now, Matthew," Robert said with quiet dignity. 
"But I only had what was in your DNA secured wishfile to go by
until you woke up and told me that this was not your desires. 
I admit that, at the time, I was greatly surprised at what was
in your wish file, but there wasn't a helluva lot of time to
waste at that point, and I couldn't very well ask you.  So we
trusted your computer security system and did what your file
said you wanted."

Then, another thought came to mind and the beautiful face
pierced Robert with as steel-sharp a gaze as he'd ever gotten
from Matthew.  "Hell, Robert, more to the point, how could
that file pass muster well enough for you to even consider
attempting something like this?  I thought we agreed on
psychological testing, documented credentials and oversight
when and if we ever attempted a gender change."  Raw emotion
seemed to make the very air about Matthew shimmer.  "Dammit,
Bob, how did you get my approval as CEO to proceed with a sex
change?  I never okayed any of this."

It was too much, too fast.  Matthew swayed in his chair, and
overbalanced just as he'd feared earlier, but Bob moved
surprisingly quickly and caught him easily.  "As to all that,
my old friend, I think you should talk to Adam."  Nodding in
agreement, Matthew tried to stand, only to be stopped by
Robert.  "Later.   You should talk to Adam, later.  Your body
and mind are exhausted.  The transition drained you and now
you are still reeling under the shock.  You need to rest." 

A pro forma protest was cut off with the imperious wave of a
physician's hand as Bob and the nurse helped Matthew back into
the large hospital-style bed.  "No, I'll watch over you. 
Somebody's used me to betray you.  It won't happen again. 
Sleep, now, and face tomorrow when tomorrow comes."

An icy coldness froze the skin of his arm and a strange,
scallion-like taste built up in the back of his mouth.  The
hypo-sprayer that Bob had evidently been hiding in his pocket,
now rested against that strange, smooth skin.  The drug took
hold, and his strange, frighteningly new world once again
receded into the blackness as one thought played over and over
in Matthew's still numbed brain.

*How did this all happen . . . to . . . meeeeeee?*

Chapter 2: Perchance to Dream - A Flashback

Matthew Sorenson roused to the sound of the designed-to-be-
annoying electronic tones of his alarm clock.  It took him a
few moments and a couple of bone cracking stretches to
recognize his surroundings - the special guest quarters at the
Earth Federation Moon Installation.  Slowly his sleep drowsed
mind became clear, then he jumped out of bed to go to the
attached bathroom, and nearly launched himself into the
ceiling in the moon's one-sixth earth gravity.

*No wonder my dream-self is half a foot shorter and fifty
kilo's lighter,* he thought as he barely avoided bouncing his
head off the crown molding.  *At least here I feel lighter and
can move more easily.  Too bad I'll pay for it when I get back
to Terra.*

Still bemusedly pleased over the feeling of his body weighing
so much less, he began to shave and promptly felt his good
mood evaporate.  Shaving was much the same as always, a waste
of time.  The face in the mirror might have looked better with
a beard covering part of it, but beards were incompatible with
too many types of emergency equipment.  So he saw all of what
he had always thought of as his "Neanderthal" face.  Heavy
brow ridge.  Massive jaw.  Potato nose.  He'd often joked with
the rest of the project team that his wish-list face was a lot
better looking than the one he wore now.  Hell, in his wish
list body he didn't even have to shave.  He'd told them that,
too.

That unpleasant task complete, Matt decided against breakfast. 
He'd be back in earth-normal gravity all too soon, and didn't
need the extra calories.  Besides, last night he'd come up
with an idea he was just burning to try on the problem that
had been vexing him, and a whole lot of other folks.  Matt had
been on the moon for the better part of three weeks trying to
fix the installation's computer systems.  The systems'
controls were based on Matt's early research into
biocybernetic direct user interfaces, but something was
corrupting any commands directed to the computer through the
interface.  The first level of backup systems had easily
maintained the life support systems, but every operational
aspect of the moon installation had been disrupted for more
than a month.

The moon installation provided the earth with a clean,
environmentally benign (at least benign for earth) source of
refined metals, particularly steel, cobalt and the platinum
group metals.  Raw solar energy, unfiltered by an atmosphere,
was collected over vast power farms near the base and then
used to anaerobically refine the raw ore pulled from the
meteor-pocked crust of the lunar landscape.  The refined
ingots of exceptionally high quality metals were then launched
using a superconducting railgun to earth, where the pilotless
transport drones would enter the atmosphere and parachute
softly down for recovery and distribution.

Except that all of that, from power management to the aiming
of the railgun, required the massive computing power of the
main installation computer.  Luna-based and then home company
technicians and engineers had tried without success to rectify
the problem all the while earthside manufacturers' inventories
of those scarce metals dwindled steadily, finally reaching the
point where something simply *had* to be done.

That *something* had been to offer Matt an incredible amount
of money to go to the moon and fix the problem, whatever it
was.  His initial reaction had been to decline the offer - the
moon being a very harsh mistress, but the money he'd been
promised had been unbelievable and something he could reinvest
into his own company.  Besides, there was something akin to
pride of authorship at stake here.  Matt had designed these
systems, and to the best of his understanding, this type of
failure was impossible.  The bio-feedback systems built into
these modern computers (another of Matt's inventions) should
have at least called for help before something like this could
have happened.  Matt would have denied it to his grave, but
this had become personal, and he was going to find and fix the
problem if it was the last thing he did on this earth . .
.errr . . . moon.

However, thus far, Matt had not had any more success at
isolating the problem than the company's engineers had, but
today, he wanted to try a new idea that occurred to him just
before he'd fallen asleep.  *Not that my idea is likely to
amount to anything.  It's generally supposed that it is
impossible for unapproved programming to attack the logic and
inner workings of a QuantCha machine, but no one ever proved
that.  We just assumed that putting that much computing power
into self protection and internal redundancy checks would
preclude anything like those invasive attacks that often
terrorized users of old Twentieth Century computers.  Viruses
they called them - like the disease carriers Bob and I fought. 
Something else, too,* he mused to himself, *what other name
did they call those things?  Trojan something . . . Trojan
Worm?  No, that isn't it.* 

He was still half muttering to himself when, forgetting the
gravity again, Matt started to stride into the main operations
room and instead ended up nearly bounding across the room into
the wall.  He was saved only by the quick action of one of the
locals who managed to grab him, in flight, while holding his
own body anchored to one of the panels. 

"'Morning, Gerry, and thanks," Matt said sheepishly to the
department head as he settled more sedately to the floor than
he deserved.  Then he handed a storage card to the frazzled
looking engineer.  "On that card is a program I wrote last
night.  I want you to do a cold start on the main system but
boot it off that card instead of the operating system, okay?"

Too discouraged to feel hope anymore, the shorter man nodded. 
"Okay, just let me copy this into the main core and then . . .
"

"NO!" Matt had yelled, bringing the man up short and drawing
the attention of everyone else in the center.  "Sorry," he
said sheepishly.  "But I don't want to do it that way.  That
card is read-only, and I want to start the machine off that
card directly from the card reader."

*He's losing it,* Gerry thought glumly.  *He's designed the
bloody thing, and he can't tell us what's wrong so he's
grasping at straws.  Oh, well.*  Putting his thoughts aside,
he said, "All right, Matt.  It will take a few moments."

The restart went smoothly enough and, moments later, sheets of
plasfilm were spewing from the main printer into Matt's hands. 
After asking for another restart, this time from the main
core, Matt strode over to the troubleshooting console and
called up a display and then sat down, looking back and forth
between the display and the hard copy in his hand.  "Dammit,
that's it.  I don't know how it was done, and I'm not sure I
even believe it, but there it is."

"What?!?!" the now excited engineer asked, pushing in to look.

Matt pointed to two numbers, one on the plas-sheet and the
other on the screen.  "My program took a snapshot of what was
in the core and how big it was without giving the core any
warning.  That," he said pointing to the plasfilm, "is what
the snapshot says the size of the self protection program is
in gigamegs, and that number," this time pointing to the
screen, "is what the main computer is reporting as the program
size."

"But . . . but . . . but, they're different," Gerry protested.

"Aren't they," Matthew agreed.  "Somehow, someone has managed
to do the impossible - they've infected a QuantCha machine
with some type of computer virus or worm by attacking the
computer at its weakest point - its self protection systems."

"Stars above.  We got a maintenance update to the core
software just a week or so before the problems started.  I'm
going to go reinstall the old system and see if that fixes the
problem."

It didn't.  The virus in the self protection system had
somehow protected itself.  Matt had then used his snapshot
program to study the rogue program as it disrupted the base
operations.  Finally, a solution had occurred to him.

"The code is relatively small and centralized, Gerry.  The
reason we can't remove it from the core is because the vector
isn't just resident in the core.  It hides in the biologic
part of the user interface to control itself.  Once you
restart the system and connect the biological part of the user
interface, you automatically reinfect the machine.  Lord
above, the virus infects the tissue that makes up the user
interface.  It really is like a bloody infection.  Amazing."

"Well, that's all well and good, Matt, and I'm sure it's all
very interesting, but I have a problem.  I can't operate that
machine without the biological user interface.  Only direct
mind to computer linkages are complex enough to effectively
interact with the machine," Gerry complained.  "In other
words, what the hell do we do next?"

Matt thought for a few moments, reviewing in his mind what he
remembered of that design.  He and Robert had been the ones
who had finally managed to couple the human/computer direct
interface via the biologic network, but a lot of that had been
Bob's work.  Then, he had an idea.  "I think I can, if I
connect directly with the computer, biologically isolate that
control system so that it can be excised, almost like surgery. 
You can then, while the control system is isolated and being
removed, reset the system so that once the biologics heal, the
system should be clean."

"It's worth a try, Matt.  You sure you can do that in a
corrupted bio-network?"

"Only one way to find out.  Get your people, Gerry, and let's
have a go at it."  

Very quickly, the staff needed to remove the infected part of
the biological interface and to reinstall the core operating
software were on station.

Matt put on the helmet that connected his mind to the bio-
network and felt the momentary disorientation as the sensors
of the base-wide computer system began feeding his brain. 
Working quickly, he set up a biological program that would box
in the section of the network hiding the virus while at the
same time disconnecting the bio-network from the main
computer.  That way, the virus would not be able to "hide"
elsewhere in the system.

He made one last quick check of his program, then took a deep
breath.  "Here goes, people," he warned, and then implemented
the program.

Almost instantaneously, a bolt of shear, unadulterated
electric agony knifed into his head.  Screaming in pain, Matt
tried to pull the helmet off his head, but his hands did not
seem to move right and his fingers did not seem to be able to
sense contact.

And then the world went utterly black.

~-----------~ 

The sudden light burned at his eyes and made his head pound. 
Matt tried to block the light with his hands, but found he
could not move them.  For a moment, he thought he was
restrained, but then realized that not only could he not move
his hands, he could not feel them, either.  Nor any of his
other extremities.  He could barely seem to breathe.

"Easy, Dr. Sorenson," a quiet male voice ordered.

Matt's eyes resisted opening, and he couldn't seem to move his
head to look up in the direction of the voice.  "Whooo . . .
where . . . ?" he managed to croak out.

A man of indeterminate years in a white lab coat with the
still prevalent stethoscope moved into Matt's line of sight. 
"My name is Dr. Castleton.  You were injured during the
attempt to restore the main base computers.  Actually, you
were attacked."

"A . . . tack . . . da?" Matt rasped out, turning the word
into three distinct syllables.

"Attacked," the doctor affirmed.  "Evidently, that little
nasty was designed to protect itself by attacking anything
connected to the network if it was itself attacked.  You were
connected and the electrical feedback it generated went
coursing into your brain though the hundreds of electrodes in
that helmet.  Much like a sudden synaptic short circuit over
the entire surface of your brain."

"Fix - ed?" Matt asked, still trying to force his mouth and
tongue to obey his orders.

"Evidently.  You won, at least, Doctor.  Your little trap was
well enough crafted that it still isolated the virus so it
could be excised.  Unfortunately, by isolating the main core
as you did, you made it necessary that you remain connected. 
Anyway, main computer function is back, which is one reason
you are awake again.  I am using a bio-network on you right
now to allow the main computer to assist you in
communicating."

"What's . . . wrong . . . with . . . me?"

"A very great deal, I'm afraid.  Your brain was badly damaged. 
Basically, all nervous controls for the voluntary functions of
your body have been cut off from your brain.  You are only
able to speak now because the computer is assisting you with
that, and we don't have the computing power necessary to do
more than that for you.  Worse, you medulla was also damaged. 
You are slowly losing involuntary muscle control.  In short,
in about a week, without the computer's assistance, your heart
will stop beating, your lungs will stop breathing and you will
simply die."

"Nothing you can do here?"  

The doctor shook his head.  "We can keep you alive, help you
to communicate, but that is about it.  The nearest thing I
could compare your condition to is an advanced case of
Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS.  Your body is simply
shutting down around what still is a working mind."

"Time enough to get to earth?" Matt got out, slowly getting
the hang of communicating with the computer's assistance.

"Yes, if we left now.  They'd have to set up similar
arrangements for you and you'd have to make the trip without
support so we would sedate you to minimize the strain, but
yes, you still have time to get to Earth."

"Need to link with my company.  Robert West or Adam Jacobs. 
Now.  Immediate priority."

Nodding, the doctor went off to make the necessary
arrangements.  A person in this condition deserved at least
the solace of being in familiar surroundings with his friends.

~----------~

The connection had a fair amount of static, which screeched in
Sorensen's ears in a feedback squeal that was all too
reminiscent of the attack that had so nearly killed him. 
Still, he knew that if he didn't confirm what was in the wish
file, they'd question it.  The changes were pretty dramatic. 
But dammit, the risk was high in any event.  He might as well
get what he wanted.  No more male pattern baldness.  No more
ducking to get through doorways.  No more pot belly, with an
end to the struggle between metabolism and appetite.  And
younger.  That alone made the risk worthwhile. 

"Bob, . . . you there?" 

Long pause.  "Yes, Matthew, what's the problem?"

"Bad accident, maybe deliberate.  Get details from Castleton."

"They're coming in on the data link now.  Oh my God!" 

"Pretty bad," Sorenson agreed.  "Need new body." 

Even the transmission lag couldn't account for the silence
that followed.  Finally, West spoke.  "I assume you're talking
about THE Project." 

"Yes." 

"You know as well as I do how risky that is," West warned.   

Sorenson's mechanical voice sounded implacable, only the slow
pace of the words telling of his struggle to communicate. 
"Try or . . . living death . . . until first power outage ends
living part . . . for real."

"Very well.  We have your GPD code on file.  We'll be ready." 

"NO!" Sorenson said, even the flat tones conveying a sense of
urgency.  "Don't want . . . this body.  New code.  Wish file." 

"All right, Matt," came Robert's placating voice, after
another delay noticeably longer than what mere light speed
limitations dictated.  "I assume your wish-file is under bio-
scan lock, just as all of ours are." 

"You, Adam and Cat, touch . . . plate together . . . access
file.  Final password is "rebirth".  Already genetic hex-
code." 

Sorenson's words had seemed to come a bit easier, so Dr. West
tried again to counsel caution.  "You know the difficulties
increase with more significant modifications to the current
gene code."

"Do it!" Sorenson ordered, excitement breaking his
concentration and thereby slurring his words.  There was a
long pause was on his end, as he tried to regain his strength
after the effort to convey his determination through the
tenuous link.  "Want hair.  Small waist.  Better looking.  Not
tall anymore.   Always felt like freak in this body.  Other
changes, too.  Younger.  Do it right this time.  All in file." 

"Those changes sound pretty radical.  Are you sure you want to
do this?"

"Very sure, more besides.  Been thinking about it for long
time."  The fatigue that Sorenson had been holding at bay by
pure strength of will dragged at him like a creature from some
deep sea.  With his last energy he tried to make sure his
words were clear as he said, "Do it, Robert, please.  You'll
be surprised, but it's what I've always wanted." 

Dr. West's answer went unheard as Sorenson slipped back into
unconsciousness. 

~------------~

Matt awoke momentarily, surprised to see a very worried Bob
looking down at him.  "Matt . . . I need to know.  Are you
sure you want to attempt something so drastic?" 

The effort needed to speak seemed orders of magnitude harder
than it had on the moon.  Poor programming, his mind
whispered.  He finally forced his lips to respond, wishing he
could smile away his friend's obvious concern.  "Dras-tic? 
Good.  Short-er . . . Plenty . . . hair.  Thin waist?  New
face.  Not ugly freak.  Dras-tic?  Com-pared . . . to what,
Bob?  Do it!  Gotta . . . look bet-ter . . . prove to . . . "

And then, he could speak no more.

Interlude: From a Dream Darkly

Matt came to suddenly, the dream that replayed his last
moments of manhood still vivid in his mind.  Reflexively, he
brought his hands up to his eyes so that he could see them
move; so he could *feel* them move, and two things became
immediately apparent.

The hands in front of his eyes were the delicate, well formed
hands of a young woman.  That had NOT been a dream.  The
second anomaly was that his hands, or rather his wrists, were
no longer unadorned.

Shiny metallic bands had been fitted tightly to his wrists. 
Matthew still found it almost impossible to use feminine
pronouns and adjectives when thinking of him/herself.  "I'll
just have to work on it," he/she thought.  "I'm certainly a
woman until *I* can figure out a way to change myself back."  

Matt turned his attention back to his wrists.  The bracelets
seemed to be a single, seamlessly-smooth piece of metal, skin
tight to the wrists.  No clasp or catch was even visible. 
They were about four centimeters wide, (maybe an inch and a
half), yet so thin that it was difficult to distinguish where
metal ended and skin began.  A quick inventory proved that his
wristbands were not alone.  Similar bands had been affixed to
his ankles and thighs, and a matching belt gleamed around his
incredibly slim waist.

These items were not intended as Matthew's first feminine
fashion statement, not that he would even dream of wearing
them voluntarily.  *Robert must have ordered them put on me
after administering the hypo-spray sedative,* he mused when he
finally realized what the bands were.  These devices were
actually the latest in medical restraint devices.  A touch of
a control, or even a single code word spoken aloud by an
authorized voice, and the wrist bands would slam into the belt
while the ankle and thigh bands would lock together.  

Upon realizing that Matthew's . . . makeover had not been his
own idea or to his liking, Doctor West had evidently decided
to take no chances that his patient and long time friend might
do something rash. 

"Well, might as well start getting ready for my first day as a
female," Matthew muttered to himself.  "I have a feeling this
isn't going to get any better by waiting."

Just then, a pretty, blonde haired nurse appeared.  "I see
you're awake, dearie," she said with a smile.  "Well, the
doctor tells me you're to have visitors soon, so let's get you
out of that bed and get you ready to meet the world, shall
we?"

Chapter 3: Views from the Other Side.

Forty-five rather embarrassing minutes later, a very
uncomfortable Matthew found himself hosting, or rather,
hostessing a breakfast meeting with Robert West and Adam
Jacobs in attendance.  Adam had arrived within a half hour of
the sedative wearing off.  The breakfast had been Robert's
idea - he figured that Matt's new stomach needed to start
dealing with food instead of nutrient sprays.  The 'party' had
been the nurse's idea.  "Well, if you're going to be a girl,
dear," she'd told him, confirming she was aware of his gender
change, "then you don't want to let visitors, especially male
visitors, see you with your hair a mess and your teeth green."

Nurse Therese (call me Teri) Richards was short, with an
impressive figure and an arresting face highlighted by
beautiful blue eyes.  Even doped up with a strong emotion
blocking agent, Matt had noticed that and would have had an
appreciative, male physiological response to her blatant
femininity if there had still been anything between his legs
to respond with. 

"I wonder what she would look like in a bathing suit - or out
of one for that matter," he mused to himself when she was out
of earshot.

Teri must have been a military nurse before joining up with
BioCybernetics.  Before Matt could get out a word of
complaint, he found him . . . dammit, . . . *her*self decked
out in a pretty nightgown and peignoir, and had gotten her
(long!!!) hair ruthlessly brushed and her teeth thoroughly
whitened.  Teri'd even managed to sneak some make up on to her
stunned patient's face and to spritz her with some lightly
floral perfume.  

Matt did manage to recover sufficiently in time to draw the
line at wearing the open toed, high heeled bedroom slippers
she tried to slip onto Matt's feet.  Not much of a victory
over that force of nature in a very nicely fitting nurse's
uniform, but it was something with which to salve his injured
pride.

The mirror then provided yet another shock.  "God, but I'm
lovely."  And then the still male-thinking brain responded
like a male brain is usually configured to respond in the
presence of a sexually attractive female  - desire and sexual
awareness flared inside Matt.  He, that is the "he" that his
mind still told him he was, wanted himself, or rather
*herself*, that is.  He just did not want this her to be him.  

God, but that was confusing to think about, and Matt was going
to have to live it.  "Confusing" was a rank understatement. 
In the untold days since he had lost consciousness at the moon
port until she had awoken in this sterile room, she had lost
his identity, his most basic concept of self.  Whoever that
was in her mirror, it was not the "he" whom Matt had spent 56
years thinking of as "ME".  Nor was it the "he" Matt had
expected to see in the mirror if the experiment had actually
been successful.  It was like he'd died and been suddenly
reincarnated, fully grown and aware of his past life, but with
no memory of *her* new life. 

Adam had been stunned when Teri had helped Matt back into the
main room.  Even Robert had been surprised.  For her part,
Matt had still been much too bemused by the highly unusual
pampering to have done much more than make idle pleasantries
when they sat down to eat.  That soon passed, however, and she
had begun to focus on what had been done.

"Okay, guys," she finally said.  "Explain to me why I'm a
female and not the somewhat smaller version of myself -- my
MALE self -- that I personally programmed into that file."

Robert coughed.  "Well, Matthew, therein lies part of the
problem.  You see, with the exception of modifications made by
the optimization program per the directions you left behind in
your wish-file, you ARE what was in the Wish File that Adam,
Cat and I opened the day you left the Moon."

"Robert, I beg to differ!  For the most part, all my wish file
contained was a somewhat shorter version of me.  I wanted a
much faster metabolism and to be spared male pattern baldness,
but I still wanted to be me . . . I mean, a male.  What the
hell happened?"

"Well, maybe I should tell you what happened on our end.  It
all began with that first high priority call from Castleton .
. ."

Interlude: Reminiscences of a Disaster - A Flashback

"Jacobs," a sleep-drunk Adam answered the call before he
realized it was coming in on the circuit reserved for use only
by the company's leadership.  Since Matt was off-planet, that
meant it had to be either Bob or Cat, and Bob rarely used the
damn thing.

Adam had been wrong.  "Adam?  Bob here.  Something's gone
drastically wrong at the Moon Base.  Matt has been hurt very
badly, and is only being kept alive because of extraordinary
intervention.  I need you here at his office right now.  I
need Cat, too."

"Call her," Adam ordered as he reached for his clothes.  "I'll
pick her up on my way in.  Do we need to activate the security
force?"

"No, not yet.  At least, not until Matt gets earthside.  He's
launching from the moon as we speak.  Should be here in about
80 hours.  Don't plan on going home anytime soon, Adam.  This
is going to be hairy."

"Right.  20 minutes, Bob.  See you then."

~--------------~

"Okay," Cat Donovan said in the quiet tone of voice that was
all the more frightening for its rarity.  "So you're certain
that a THE Project treatment is the only way he can live a
full life again?"

Catherine Brenda Donovan, formerly Captain Donovan, United
States Marine Corps, and now Chief of Security, BioCybernetics
Corp. was definitely *not* happy.  More accurately and bluntly
stated, she was thoroughly pissed off.  Matthew Sorenson was
one of her few male friends, and at that precise moment, she
was helpless to do anything substantive to help him.  Cat
Donovan *hated* feeling helpless, and she damned well was
going to find whoever had done this to her friend.  She was
tall, powerfully built and competent in far too many ways of
bringing pain and death to her fellow humans to be taken
lightly.  More importantly, at that particular moment in time
she was dangerously angry with the cold, rational fury of the
professional warrior.  *Someone did this to Matt,* her mind
whispered, *and that someone is going to pay - big time!*

Bob nodded gravely.  "Castleton did his work well.  I have
full brain scans and neural path continuity check results. 
Unless we can re-engineer his whole body, he will be a living
mind in a dead body for as long as we can artificially sustain
him.  Knowing Matt, I am confident that he would soon opt for
self-termination rather than continue such a bleak existance."

"So," Cat said, a suspicious hitch in her voice, "what do we
do now?"

Pointing to the touch plate on Matt's desk, Bob smiled
wearily, "We prepare the treatment.  Step one is finding out
what are Matt's wishes.  For that, I need both of you."

"All right," Cat growled.  "Let's do it.  Then, I'm going to
start setting up security for his arrival at the spaceport and
for his subsequent transfer here.  This smells funny, guys,
and I don't want anything more happening to that man."  She
placed her thumb upon the sensor plate on Matt's desk.

*She wants there to be a conspiracy so that she will have
someone to fight,* Adam mused.  *It is much harder for her to
accept this as a random, malicious act because she can't fight
that.  Well, so be it, there isn't much for her to do here
once we've opened Matt's file.*  "And I'll go make sure the
documentation trail is clean so that there are no questions
about Matt's identity after . . . whatever happens."

A short, dapper little man, Adam still remembered the day that
Matt Sorenson had chosen the relatively inexperienced young
Adam Jacobs, Esquire, over several older, better known and
socially-placed attorneys to head up the legal division of his
new corporation.  Over time, real friendship had grown between
the short statured lawyer and the physically large computer
scientist.  If Cat was right, and there was something more
behind this, Adam Jacobs would damn well make sure whoever did
this to his friend would not gain by their crime.  *There
won't be any questions about who you really are that I can't
answer, my friend.  I swear it,* he thought fiercely as he put
his print next to Cat's.

"Right," Bob said as he placed his thumb on the plate next to
Cat's and Adam's.  "Computer.  Open Filename: Sorenson Wish-
File.  Password: Rebirth."

~--------------~

"You're kidding me, right?  Matt Sorenson?  Cripes, Bobby, I
went to pleasure resorts with him in the early days.  The man
is as male-heterosexual as I am.  Hell, he caught more girls
at that place than I did. Why would he want to be a woman??!?"

"You've read the file," Robert said quietly.  "All the
justification and background documentation is there, Adam."

"Look, I know he's always, well, you know . . . " Adam ran a
frustrated hand through his hair and took a deep breath. 
"Look, I know he's always complained about his size and lack
of looks, but to do something like this?  Look, it's a wish
thing, Bob.  He was just playing with some silly fantasies
some dark and lonely night and forgot to erase them from that
file there."

"Does that sound like Matt Sorenson to you?" Bob challenged. 
When Adam couldn't answer, he continued.  "He told us where
the file was, Adam."

"But what about the survival stuff?  Didn't you tell me that
this course of action is unsafe?"

"Yes, in general, but I am checking into those probabilities
as they relate to Matt's specific genetic makeup.  I have
those tissue samples I took from each of us a few months ago. 
I'm doing clinical testing on some of Matt's."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"I will also generate a non-gender changing treatment that
will be ready in case of an unacceptably low survival
probability with the gender changing treatment.  In the
meantime, I will conduct optimization studies to comply with
his stated wishes."

"But you will insist on a very high survival probability,
right?  As in 100 percent?"

"He's my friend, too, Adam," Robert said with austere dignity.

"Sorry, Bob, I know that.  Well, guess I better make like a
lawyer and make sure we do this perfectly," Adam said with a
sigh before a thought hit him.  "What about Cat?"

"We comply with Matthew's stated wishes whenever it does not
affect his chance of survival.  He doesn't want her
interfering and you know as well as I do that she would try. 
Let her worry about setting up her security plan and let it go
at that."

~---------------~

The sleek, hypersonic space-transport shut down its engines
and rolled to a stop near the smaller airship that was waiting
with its own engines hot.  Four med-techs raced across the
tarmac pushing what looked like a cross between a bed and a
combat tank towards the bigger ship.

Six other men rushed down the spaceship's loading ramp
carrying a life support litter.  With skilled efficiency, the
man in the litter was transferred to the bed and then wheeled
to the load hoist of the smaller airship.  They were airborne
less than ten seconds after the hoist had melded into the
smooth lines of the fuselage.

Bob and the other doctor worked feverishly to hook up the bio-
network.  "Damn, he's further gone that we thought," Bob
swore.

"We need his go ahead, Bob.  That was the agreement.  Because
of the inherent risk of the gender transition, he personally
has to approve the use of any treatment with that type of re-
engineering," Adam said.  *Hopefully, he won't say anything
and we can forget the whole idea.*

Matt awoke momentarily, surprised to see a very worried Bob
looking down at him.  "Matt . . . I need to know.  Are you
sure you want to attempt something so drastic?" 

The effort seemed to drain yet more life out of their friend,
and for just a moment, Adam thought he was not going to be
able to answer.  Only he did.  "Dras-tic?  Good.  Short-er . .
. Plenty . . . hair.  Thin waist? New face.  Not ugly freak. 
Dras- tic?  Com-pared . . . to what, Bob?  Do it!  Gotta . . .
look bet-ter . . . prove to . . . "

Adam could only stare at his now comatose friend, willing him
to say something more.  When he didn't, he rounded on Bob. 
"Cripes, West, what the hell did he mean to say?  What do we
do now?"

The strain of more than three days concentrated effort on far
too little sleep and far too much stimulant burned in Robert's
eyes.  "I think we both know what he meant to say, Adam.  As
for what we are going to *do*?  We're going to save his life
*and* give him the life he's asked us for at least twice.  Any
other questions?"  When Adam could only shake his head, Bob
nodded wearily.  "I know.  I feel it, too.  Sorry for jumping
down your throat.  Come on, we're starting to descend.  We've
both got work to do, my friend.  Let's get to it."

Chapter 4: The Legal and Not-So-Legal Niceties.

"And that," Bob said with a touch of finality, "was that. 
Adam wanted to argue some more, but there really wasn't all
that much time.  We had to make a decision and go with it.  We
decided to follow what we *thought* were your stated wishes.

"My stated wishes??" Matt spluttered.  "My god, Bob, that
makes so little sense as to be ludicrous.  Lord above, all I
wanted was what any middle-aged overweight male wants - to be
young, thin and handsome."

"Matthew . . . " Robert started only to be ignored completely.

"How could you have done this to me?" he asked dazedly,
reaching his hand up to touch his flawless cheek. 

"But you said you wanted a new face - more times than I can
remember counting," Adam interjected. 

"Sure, my old mug was ugly.  That doesn't mean I wanted to be
a woman." 

"You said, quite specifically in our short talk before you
left the moon," Bob retorted, "that you wanted to have a new
face, be shorter, have lots of hair, and a small waist.  And
more things besides, you said.  Fine, with that as a starting
point, *THEN* we find this wish-file that has all that, and
more besides.  What were we supposed to think, Matthew? 
Especially since you're such a fanatic on security, yet you
told us to trust that file completely." 

Stalled by the uncomfortable logic of Bob's argument, Matt
retreated for a moment.  "What did Cat have to say about all
of this?" 

"Nothing," Adam said firmly.  "After she did her part to open
the file, anyway.  She was heavily involved in making sure
that all the security was setup for your transfer to here. 
She knew we had to change you, but until Bob had decoded the
wish file, even we didn't know that the fake wish form was
female.  Besides, the first instruction we read after we got
into your sealed file was that, if it was possible, we were to
keep her out of the details of your transition.  You wanted to
surprise her." 

"Guess everyone was surprised - especially me.  Not that Cat
was ever very involved in the lab end of things, but please
tell me why in hell did you even think that I would say that? 
That alone should have given it away.  Why would such a
'fanatic on security' want his personally handpicked Chief of
Security kept out of anything to do with THE Project? 
Particularly when it affects *ME*?" 

Both men looked down, and then steadfastly avoided Matthew's
eyes.  Finally, Adam coughed and said hesitantly, "Um, well,
you told us why in the file.  You said," Adam's voice cracked
like a teenaged boy going through puberty.  

Matthew gave his friend a 'c'mon' gesture with his hands. 
Adam coughed again and then spoke more quickly.  "I mean, the
file said, that you were so desperately in love with Cat that
if you ever had a legitimate reason to take the risk of a new
body form, you wanted to become her ideal woman."

"I WHAAAAAT?!?!?" Matthew screeched in tones that would have
done justice to a heroine from an old Grade B horror movie.

"The file said that you knew she would never accept you as a
man, so you would get her to accept you as a woman.  But that
if she ever knew you'd done it for her, her response wouldn't
be genuine, it would be guilt, or gratitude, or something
other than the true love you wanted from her.  Anyway, she was
not to know anything about the specifics of the new body." 

"Right, like that would have stopped her." 

"Well, that was a very busy time around here, Matt, all of us
going in a dozen directions at once.  She never even asked
what you'd look like after the transition.  I honestly don't
think she cared about anything other than having her friend
alive and healthy when we were done.  All she ever wanted to
know, and she wanted to know it about every ten minutes, was
if you were still doing alive."

"Just how the hell could you two just accept that pile of
manure?  How could you have worked with me for ten years in
one case and over twenty five years in the other and believe
that garbage?"

Robert's guilt had his emotions already on edge and his famous
temper finally blew. "Oh, come off it, Matthew.  Lie to
yourself all you want to, but give us some credit for knowing
you.  You've been more than halfway in love with that woman
since she walked into your office to interview for the job. 
Cripes, the first time you saw her in her combat jumpsuit you
almost gave yourself whiplash.  The only two people here who
know both of you who *don't* know how you feel about her are
the two of you."

Matthew wanted to dispute it, but both of his friends wore
looks of such supreme surety that he knew it would do no good. 
Sure, he was really fond of Cat, but love?  It had never
crossed his mind he assured himself smugly.  Cat didn't LIKE
guys . . . at least, not in THAT way.

*But maybe I would have a chance with her, now,* a faint voice
in the back of his now feminine head whispered temptingly.

Grimly, he forced that unworthy thought back into the depths
of his mind.  "Well, you're both wrong.  So if that is your
justification, we can put that in the trash where it belongs
and get to the more important question before us."

"And that is?" Adam asked silkily, his own patience starting
to slip.

"Okay, I guess I understand how I got this way.  Now, how soon
can we change me back?" 

"I thought you knew that, Matthew," Adam blurted out before
Robert could respond.  "We can't. The change isn't reversible. 
100% failure rate in the clonal tests." 

"What?" Matt shouted, lurching to his feet, his beautiful face
white with shock. 

"Nurse," Dr. West called quickly.  The manacles snapped
together and Matthew found himself falling helplessly forward,
to be caught in the arms of her doctor.  A hypospray whispered
behind his ear, and then the world once again melted away. 

Interlude: The Leader Speaks:

A single chair had been placed in the otherwise empty and
pitch-black room.  As if a switch had been thrown, the room
suddenly filled with an eerie half light.  Into that dim
greyness, localized shimmering light coalesced in the chair,
and then in various positions in front of the chair.  Slowly,
the blots of light shifted into the form of transparent,
female human bodies that exhibited neither faces nor any other
distinguishing features.

The body seated in the lone chair spoke first.  "Have all the
traces back to us been destroyed?" 

"Yes," responded another body, its voice lightly feminine yet
oddly separate from its physical location. "Per our
contingency planning, the electronic files self-erased, and
our special polymer sheets, the ones that mimicked the
supposedly indestructible ones, vaporized as planned when they
were not recoated in the stabilization compound." 

"Very well, Admin.  So, there should be no long term
repercussions to the Organization?"

"Other than failure, of course," another feminine voice cut in
snidely.

"I could do nothing about that, Freuda," the voice that had
answered to the name 'Admin' retorted.  "As quickly as the
plan was laid on, it is amazing that we got as far with it as
we did."

"Yes," said the first voice.  "It was a shame that we did not
anticipate that Sorenson might be called in to consult on the
Moon Base test of our bionic virus.  We might have had more
time to adequately plan our attempted takeover of
BioCybernetics."

"At least that test was successful, Leader," the voice
answering to 'Freuda' said.

"Not so.  My sources tell me that even now several major
organizations, including the Laboratory for Applied
Biotechnology at MIT have found a way to do what Sorenson
accomplished without exposing anyone to our viral bioelectric
synaptic counterattack.  The bionic virus is no longer of any
value to the cause."

There was a quiet general murmur of dismay in the room that
did not seem to be associated with any specific light body. 
The seated figure raised a hand for silence.  There was a
short delay of perhaps two or three seconds before all
conversation ceased.  "It occurs to me, Admin, that you have
not yet answered my first question.  Can we expect any
repercussions to the Organization?"

"I was forced to flee rather precipitously, Leader, when
Jacobs arrived with irrefutable evidence that would deflect
our thrust, but I did do everything I was told to do in the
contingency plan."

"Insufficient answer, Admin.  We will adjourn for twenty four
hours while Admin reviews her actions so that she can make a
more . . . complete report.  You are all dismissed."

Instantly, the light bodies winked out of sight, and then the
room was once again black and empty.

Chapter 5: Past the Point of No Return

Both men were at Matthew's bedside when the fairly strong
sedative wore off.  Unlike old, Twentieth Century drugs, when
this compound wore off, it wore off suddenly and completely. 
Thus, Matthew was completely alert when the beautiful blue
eyes flickered open.  Alert enough to realize something was
not quite normal.  Even for what now passed for normal in his
life.

"More drugs, Robert?" he asked querulously. 

"An emotion block, Matt.  I want you calm so we can get
through this all at once.  Then, once you've had time to
assimilate what we have to tell you, you can deal with the
emotional upheaval gradually as the drug wears off."

"That bad?" Matt asked, wry humor in his new voice.

"You tell me," Bob replied.  "You remember why I had to sedate
you?"

A slight frown furrowed the porcelain-smooth forehead and then
just a quickly cleared.  "Adam said that I was stuck like
this.  That you cannot reverse the transition."

"Adam," Robert said in heavy tones and a stern look to the
other man, "should know enough to keep his mouth shut when he
isn't arguing points of law."

"Well, since I am not having a bad case of vapors, you might
as well give me the whole story.  Why can't you just undo what
you did?  You've got my GPD record - you told me so.  I mean,
I'd be ugly again, but . . . "

"Two reasons, Matt," Robert said quietly.  "First, your GPD
record has been erased from every databank we have. 
Completely.  We don't know how, especially since those
redundant copies were under separate security codes, but right
now, I do not have reliable access to the person who was
Matthew Eric Sorenson.  I have some tissue samples, but those
will take time to analyze and map."

Matthew considered that for a moment and sighed.  "Okay, file
that for the moment.  You said there was a second reason I
can't go back to being at least male again."

Robert sagged wearily onto Matt's hospital bed and laid a hand
on his friend's oddly slender shoulder.  "The plain and simple
truth is that, so far, not one tissue experiment that
successfully completed a viable male to female transition has
survived an attempt to reverse the process."

"Not even one success to prove the rule, Bob?" Matthew asked,
the block keeping all emotion out of his voice.

"100% non-viable, Matt.  At least 150 different tissue
cultures, all from different donors," Robert affirmed. "During
the live cell testing, every time we tried to reverse a
successful and viable male to female transition, the DNA
structure itself just decomposed - totally disintegrated. 
Electron microscopy has shown us that the double helix
literally unzipped into single strands.  Those strands, no
longer having the cross coupling bonds between the single
strands to stabilize them, then broke down completely in the
presence of the enzymes we used to control and facilitate the
process." 

"Why?" Matt asked quietly, dimly aware that he'd be having
kittens if it wasn't for the drug coursing through his system.

"Matt, we've been working on the problem for several months
and basically have no idea."

"What about the computer models based on the GPD?  Don't they
help at all?"

"Matt, for all the good they are doing us, we might as well
not have them.  Look," Bob said seriously, "to this point, our
ability to model this transition has been a huge
disappointment from both a prediction and an experimental
perspective.  Okay, here's the deal.  The models predict that
male to female transitions have essentially the same
survivability as female to male.  Hell, the same as any really
complex transition without a gender change.  If we don't
intervene and fix certain known fatal gene sets, any of those
transitions survive in about seventy percent of the model
runs."

"And when you intervene and change the gene sets before the
main transition?"

"As near 100% viability as makes no difference to anyone but a
statistician with severe anal retention problems.  However,
the laboratory experiments with real human tissue samples give
us completely different results.  Except in the case of
transitions involving no gender change - in those cases the
model is dead on."

"But not for gender changers," Matt said quietly.

Bob nodded sadly.  "Precisely.  Oddly enough, based on our
statistical data, the generation of a second "X" chromosome
from a male's "Y" was the riskiest transition of all.  Which
it shouldn't be - duplicating an existing chromosome is
technically easy.  However, if there is any fault on it, you
no longer have a spare on the other chromosome to provide
viable information.  That's worse than inbreeding between a
brother and a sister.  Even 'clipping off' an X to make a Y
still has redundant and corrective data from the second,
unchanged X.  But," and here Bob's voice lost its lecture mode
and became pensive.  "But there is something else at work,
too."

"Explain," Matt demanded intensely. 

Bob grinned, recognizing the tone of command.  "Basically, on
average, only 25 percent of the male to female tests survived. 
The female to male transitions were better, but still not
consistent with the model.  However, the key issue for you, my
friend, is that so far, we have been completely unable to
reverse a successful male to female transition.  Female to
male reversibility is about the same as initial male to female
survivability."

"And we have no idea why?"  Matt could hardly believe his
beloved computers were so impotent - particularly when he
needed them so much.

"None, Matt.  The bottom line is that we simply have no idea
what is wrong with our models."

"Oh my god . . . " Matt whispered softly.  "All this, and now
I am stuck forever in this defective body."

"I *beg* your pardon," Robert snapped.  "Defective body?  Like
Hell, girl!  There is NOTHING defective about that body,
Matt!"

"This body, Bob, it seems . . . clumsy.  I felt like I was
constantly losing my balance with every step.  Hell, the nurse
had to help make it to the loo and back without falling flat
on my face."

To Matt's embarrassment and disgust, Robert chuckled heartily. 
"That body is just fine, thank you very much for your total
lack of confidence in my skills.  Your new body is nearly
perfect, in fact.  I am afraid that the problems you
experienced moving about in the bath were the result of
operator error."  

Robert laughed again at the puzzlement etched on Matt's face
and then continued.  "We accomplished every goal we set down
in our original plan, even working under the extremely tight
time constraints you inflicted on us.  Everything worked
perfectly.  At the genetic level, every known genetic defect
has been corrected.  At the same time, just about every
measurable parameter of your physical being has been
enhanced."

"Enhanced?  How?" Matt challenged.  

"You will find," Robert reassured his longtime friend gently,
"that once you have figured out how to move in your new skin,
you will have nearly perfect balance.  Your muscles will
strengthen easily and dramatically.  Your senses are acute in
the extreme.  Your quickness and reflexes should be off the
scale when assessed using the standard tests.   Even your
memory and thinking processes should be clearer.  Essentially,
we have run a non-linear optimization program on the elements
of the GPD, constrained only by the factors you put in your
wish-file, and the result of that computation is the "you"
that you see in the mirror."

"But if that is the case, why was I so . . . off balance?"

"Because, as you yourself just said - you think the same as
you did when you were male.  In this case, your mind still
"remembers" how to operate your old body.  Your muscle
*memory* doesn't account for *mammary* glands, a
proportionately wider pelvis or any of your other feminine
attributes." 

Matt groaned as expected at the awful play on memory and
mammary, which made Bob-the-punster happy.  "We still have
tests to run, of course, and we will need to keep track of
your progress as you begin to train yourself to use your new
body, but just about every part of you is as good as we could
make it."  His brow furrowed as something occurred to him. 
"Everything," he said slowly as if considering the word.

The silence that followed that last comment stretched out,
becoming almost ominous.  "Okay, Bob, I know when you are
trying to avoid something.  Out with whatever it is.  I need
to know the bad with the good."

He nodded, but instead of saying anything, he turned to Nurse
Teri.  "Nurse, what is the condition of the patient's blocks
at this very moment?"

Teri's hands made some fluid movement over the panel.  She
frowned momentarily as she looked at her displays and then
turned to Bob.  "At prescribed levels, Doctor.  Wrist units
are operating normally."

He nodded.  "Very well.  Be prepared, Nurse."  He awaited her
acknowledgment of that order, and then turned back to face his
patient.  Whatever he had to say, he was being very cautious. 
He coughed before forcing himself to speak.  "Yes, umm, well. 
Try to deal with this as an objective, outside observer would. 
Think like Matthew the career engineer and scientist for a
moment and try to see what I am about to describe purely in
the abstract."

This was going to be really bad, Matt thought.

"Well, Matthew, you need to understand, that your body is
going to respond, and take your mind right along with it. 
You're going to find yourself getting aroused.  Highly
aroused.  I have a lot of confidence in your self-control, but
I'm even more confident that you are NOT going to be a nun. 
Not in that body with its physical sensitivity and neural
responsiveness."

The full impact of this hit her and for the first time, it was
*her* responding.  Matthew's face flushed bright red as
remembered sensations slid across her new body.  Heavens,
she'd already had a tiny taste of the arousal that this body
could feel, and that had only been the result of seeing
herself and Nurse Teri.  "You mean you've turned me into some
sort of over-sexed slut fantasy?  Whose idea was that?  Yours? 
I thought you were my friend!  I'll show you!  I might not
become a nun, but I'll for damn sure control my own goddamn
body! I'll . . . " 

Matt lurched to her feet as the world seemed to close in about
her - she needed to escape, she needed to . . . 

"Doctor!" Teri's voice crackled from across the room. 
"Anxiety indicator levels spiking, engaging restraints." 

The bands at her wrists came alive, snapping to her waist
where they mated with the belt.  The bands on her legs and
ankles similarly snapped together.  Panicking now, she fought
against the bonds, almost tipping herself off the chair in the
process.  Adam and Robert were at her side immediately,
catching her and helping her back into her seat.  The
increasingly familiar hiss of a hypo-spray resounded in her
ears.

Almost instantly, the tension began to subside and she began
to relax.  "Spiking diminishing," Teri's voice remained
professionally calm and Matt was able to draw some of that
calm detachment from the nurse.  "Spiking has stopped, Doctor
- vital signs returning to previous levels."  Nurse Teri
confirmed what Matt already felt.

"Sorry about that," she gasped.  "Oh, god, Bob.  I don't think
I will ever feel attracted to a guy, but I guess it's a
blessing that this body isn't fertile."

"Don't count that blessing too quickly, Matt.  You have the
full endowment of eggs.  You are a completely fertile and
functional potential mother."

"You have to kidding me.  I thought that we agreed two years
ago that even if this . . . change was theoretically possible,
that the fact that birth-women are born with all the eggs they
will ever have in their lives meant that anyone being
converted would not have stocked ovaries after transition."

Robert looked away and then sighed.  "We were wrong, Matthew. 
Maybe the last shot of sperm from your testes before their
conversion to ovaries, which is how we think it happened, by
the way, became ova as part of the transition.  We don't know,
but we do know that you have a complete supply of viable ova
in your ovaries.  I extracted a couple while you were still
under sedation and they will fertilize.  As a precaution, I
implanted a slow release contraceptive in your hip before we
brought you out from under."

Abstractly, Matt knew she would be having those kittens again
if not for what ever tranquilizing agent they were using as a
block.  Still, whatever it was let her approach this latest
stunner with some clinical detachment.  "You mean, I can get
pregnant?!?!"
 
Robert nodded.  "But as I said, Matt, it is not as if you have
been reborn pregnant.  You will have to be careful, just like
any person who was born female, but between your own self
control and that implant, it isn't something you really need
to worry about."

That thought seemed to dissolve whatever emotion was fighting
against the blocking agent and Matt relaxed.  "And how long is
the implant good for?"

"Six months, guaranteed, old friend, and I won't let you
forget to renew the prescription.  That was the toughest
piece, my friend.  If you can handle that, everything else
should be easy."

"God, Bob, isn't that enough to handle?  On top of everything
else, you tell me I am going to be some kind of walking,
talking super-feminine female with a baby bomb ticking away in
my innards?" her voice rose in pitch as the hysteria bubbled
one last time before the block took complete effect.  Her next
breath was a shaky sigh.

"Women have dealt with it for millennia," Adam inserted
soothingly.  "We will help you get through this."

Matt knew she was doped, but the only effect was that she just
couldn't get excited anymore.  "I accept your assessment, but
Bob?  I was ogling my own reflection just before you arrived."

A tentative smile broke across his face.  "Well, I must admit,
you are well worth the ogle," he teased gently before his
voice turned serious again.  "You are a pretty stable
character, old friend, and like I've already said twice, I
can't see your rational mind getting carried away by the
throes of passion.  Your new and old sexualities will sort
themselves out in time.  Just relax and try to enjoy the
ride."  Matt's eyes went wide when Bob gave her a fatherly pat
on the head.  "Are you handling this better, now?"

Matt thought about it, searching her drugged feelings.  She
shook her head.  "Don't think so.  I think the blocking drugs
are handling it instead of me, but so long as they are
handling it, I am okay." 

Chapter 6:  How?

The two men simply sat there, watching their friend.  "Okay,"
Matt sighed.  "Let's take it from the top so at least I
understand what happened before we figure out how . . . and
the why.  By the way?  Where's Cat?  Not that I don't trust
you guys, but this *is* a major security problem."

"She got a lead on a couple of the people we believe are
deeply involved with what has happened to you and took off
this morning to run them down.  She briefed us, very
thoroughly, before she left."

"All right, but I want a full report from her as soon as she
gets back," Matt ordered firmly.  "Whoever is behind this has
to be damned good at what they do because my electronic
security and Cat's physical security arrangements are a great
deal better than merely state-of-the-art.  That these people
were able to get past all Cat's and my setups and do something
like this," his hand swept down his slender female form,
"means they are also very advanced technologically and very,
VERY dangerous.  So, why did they choose to come out of hiding
now?  What were they after?"

Matt missed the amused look that darted between her two long
time friends at her interruption.  It was so "pure-Matt" that
it relieved just a bit of the anxiety Bob and Adam had felt
since discovering that Matt's wish file was a fake.  "Well,
Matthew," Adam hesitated, "I think the 'why' is fairly well
established.  What happened after your incident on the moon
was a very carefully orchestrated plot to seize control of the
company and THE Project."

Matt noticed how Adam stumbled over the strong, masculine
name, but for the moment, said nothing about that.  She was
too stunned by the implications of Adam's revelation.  "Damn,
Adam, that makes no sense.  Hell, it's all but impossible.  I
was unconscious up there for what, . . . 10 hours before I
contacted Bob?  Robert, how long did it take you to open the
wish-file?"

Robert thought for a moment.  "About six hours, Matt.  I had
to review the medical data Castleton sent me first to make
sure we had whatever might be needed to keep you alive when
you arrived at the spaceport.  I called your secretary to
stand by and went to talk with the medical technologists. 
That took longer than I expected, and by the time that meeting
broke up, it was after midnight.  I . . . ah . . . had to wake
Adam up to get him here to open the wish-file."

"So," Matt said, "that means whoever did this had a maximum of
what . . . sixteen hours to set this up?  That's awfully fast
to set up something this complex, let alone get it to work. 
How does that correlate to a plot to take over the company,
Adam?"

"I agree, but from what we know now, they had the assets in
place to pull it off.  Shortly after you arrived here at the
compound, just after the treatment had been administered, in
fact, all of the original documentation that showed your
approval and cooperation with the transformation simply
disappeared."

"Disappeared?  But those records were under high security
lockdown, and were redundantly backed up throughout our secure
system."

Adam nodded.  "Not all that secure, in hindsight, my friend. 
Digital records that had been put in place to legally change
your gender self-erased.  Plasfilm that was guaranteed to be
non-degradeable disintegrated down to the molecular level. 
Protected data files were erased and replaced by new ones that
indicated your intent to transfer controlling interest in the
company to an off-shore consortium fronted for by one of the
big corporate law firms.  If Robert had not brought me into
this as quickly as he did?"  Adam shook his head.  "If I
hadn't been able to set up an independent, ironclad document
trail, you might have had a bitch of time proving your claim
to Matthew Sorenson's life once you woke up."

"So who was behind it?  Who showed up trying to take over?"

Adam frowned over his tea.  "That's a big part of our current
problem.  No one showed up.  They were clearly ready to move,
but they were tipped off that their falsified record trail had
been circumvented.  Unfortunately, none of their own records
on the off-shore consortium survived once their takeover
attempt failed.  Same trick on those as for the primary
records that fooled us.  When we arrived back at the compound
after picking you up at the spaceport, I went directly to your
office to take up the emergency powers our partnership
agreement grants me.  I had all the documents that you
insisted I keep hard copies of in my safe and the documents
Robert and I had prepared to protect your chain of identity. 
Your secretary was rather . . . surprised to see me."

That was unexpected.  Martha Jenkins had been Matthew
Sorenson's executive assistant for ten years and should have
known that Adam acted for the president in an emergency.  Matt
said as much.  

"Yes, well, I think there is a pretty clear answer to that
question, Matt.  Martha was part of whatever group hatched
this conspiracy.  She challenged my right to be there, saying
that I had no legal authority to take charge."  Matt's
disbelief was obvious.  Adam merely smiled grimly and
continued.  "Surprised the hell out of me, too.  What
surprised me the most, however, was the shock - I can't
describe it any other way - on her face when I showed her the
authorizing documents and the chain of evidence.  But then she
apologized, and settled to her work.  I thought nothing more
of it until she left for lunch.  She has not been seen since."

Dazed, Matt simply stared at him.  "Martha?  She was in on
this?"

Robert answered.  "She must have been, Matthew.  Who else
could have somehow gotten past your personal security codes
and changed not only the wish-file, but inserted all the other
supporting documentation we found in there.  Over the years,
she must have found a way to access your signature seals on
the computer.  No one else could have done it.  In fact,
Martha is the person Cat had a lead on this morning, otherwise
she'd have been here for this meeting.  Cat was afraid that
one of the private companies she hired to help with this
investigation might not be above pumping Martha to find out
just why BioCybernetics is so interested in catching her.  She
wanted to be in on the capture to preclude some  less-than-
scrupulous individual from getting a few of our secrets in
return for letting Martha escape again."

For a moment, the mysterious thin cereal she had been eating
threatened queasily to make a reappearance, but then the image
of Cat tickled at her mind.  *Isn't that just like my Cat,*
she mused with a sad half smile.  "Nicely paranoid as always." 
She swallowed hard against the disappointment of Martha's
evident betrayal and gestured for Adam to continue.

"Martha evidently set up the entire false document trail,
Matt, because they were carefully filed with your doctored
wish-file under that bio-lock.  So we thought you made those
decisions in full appreciation of the facts.  Those secured
sealed responses were also confirmed by the psychologist's
reports on your mental and emotional readiness for
transition."  Robert reached down into an attache and produced
a personal datapad which he passed to Matt.

With nerveless fingers, she accessed the files contained on
the device and rapidly scanned them.  Some she recognized and
knew that she had seen them or that she had originated them. 
The rest, some from Bob, some from Adam, some from a Dr.
Hannah Angstrom and some with his old signature on them, she
had never seen before in his or her life.  

Clearing his throat, Robert continued.  "I still couldn't just
"do it" to you, though.  I had . . . uhmmm . . . obtained a
tissue sample from you during your last physical and used it
in culture testing.  Fortunately, your cells made successful
transition 94.5% of the time, so I was able to proceed without
feeling like I was killing my best friend."

"Were those results in THE Project databanks, Robert," she
asked, "the specific ones about my chance of survivability?" 
She thought she already knew the answers, but decided to ask
anyway.

Startled and a little confused at the question, Robert used a
napkin to wipe his brow.  "Why, no.  Those tests were . . .
personal, not project-related.  I saw no need to enter that
data into THE Project database, at least not until we
completed your transition and it was successful.  As of this
moment, those results are stored only in that datapad."

As she had expected.  She badly wanted something to drink, but
knew she would not be able hold a glass steady.  "I would say
it's pretty obvious that the security of our entire computer
complex has been compromised - not just my personal system. 
They did not know I had a high probability of surviving when
they put the takeover plan in place, then.  They only knew
that all the random tests indicated that I would have a better
than 3 to 1 probability of dying."  Her eyes focused in on an
unfamiliar name on the final authorization table, the one that
gave permission to Robert to take away Matthew Sorenson's
whole idea of self and give him one that *she* did not know. 
"And who the hell is this Angstrom woman?"

Adam nodded.  "Purportedly, and as a matter of record, she was
your transition psychologist.  You'll recall that you directed
that we could follow all procedures established for non-
genetic sexual reassignment before we ever attempted such a 
transition genetically?"  Matthew nodded, feeling dazed. 
"Well, part of that is a psychological review.  Part of the
documentation in your file was her approval for transition
based upon more than a year of consultation with you.  We
checked her out, by the way.  She had gold plated credentials
in the field."

"Then were the hell is she?"

"She is also among the missing.  Literally no record of her
exists anywhere that we can find since the moment Martha
disappeared.  Very, very good job of disappearing.   As to the
subject of our security, that was my conclusion, too. 
Especially given your response to waking up this morning.  As
Acting President, I ordered the main project computers
isolated from all outside connections, and have disconnected
it from all internal networks until further notice.  Only two
passwords currently work and any attempt to access or use the
central core will be recorded and will set off alarms in
security."

"Who has the new passwords?"  Adam pointed to himself and to
Robert.  Matt nodded his agreement.  "So, for the sake of
hypothesis, someone, or someones, decided to get me out of the
way in order to take over the company?"

"I think we can be relatively sure that you were not intended
to survive the transition.  If you somehow survived that,
their backup plan was to destroy your identity, and thus tie
up the company in litigation muddied by your 'sex-change'
claims.  In the chaos that followed, they would have time to
strip the technology plans from the central computers and
probably then gone underground with it.  We've learned the
hard way that they are very good at disappearing off the face
of the earth."

"So, on top of everything else, we are dealing with attempted
murder, not just industrial espionage and dirty tricks."  For
the first time, an emotion other than stunned disbelief
started to bubble up inside Matt.  Anger - raw and hot -
stiffened her spine as nothing else this day had.  "Hell, they
DID murder me.  The Matthew Sorenson that I spent a half
century being is gone forever.  Their misfortune is that they
did not take it all.  They will regret that.  I swear that
they will regret that mistake with their last rational
thought."

Robert looked at Adam, concern written on his round face. 
Adam simply grinned.  "I would not say you were all the way
gone, my friend.  I would recognize that response anywhere. 
Welcome back, Matthew," he said.

"Thank you, I guess."  Then, another thought surfaced.  "Adam,
you said that every person who can be linked to the
particulars of my situation has disappeared?"

Adam gave an affirmative grunt.  "Yes.  Your secretary, the
psychologist and the stock broker who fronted for the hidden
consortium and their legal firm.  All of them are no where to
be found.  And with all our resources, that's more than just a
little amazing."

"Then, it is wise to assume that I still may be a target? 
That I still might be at risk from them?" Adam's face darkened
angrily.  He had not thought of that one.  "I can see that you
agree.  For now, I need to be protected and I need to learn to
protect myself.  What's Cat doing about all this?  You said
she briefed you."

Adam shook his head.  "Obviously, we needed her to get into
the locked file, and she knew you had to have a THE Project
treatment to have any chance at all of a normal life again. 
However, as we told you earlier, we didn't tell her about the
female thing because the false records in your wish-file asked
us not to, and she never asked.  Nor did she ever go into the
lab while you were actually in transition."  

"No surprise in that," Bob interjected with a wicked smile. 
"You know how squeamish she became when she saw the live
animal tests in their transitional states.  A woman who can
and has killed in the line of duty, but show her a little
basic protoplasm and she heads for the nearest restroom at a
trot."

"Not that you ever dared to tease her about it, West," Matt
said with a grin.  *Lord, that was Cat down to the ground,*
Matt thought. *Just when you think you have her all figured
out, she throws you a curve. HA!  And what curves she had to
throw!*

Matt thought back to when he'd first met the Big Cat.  She'd
seemed the consummate professional woman when she'd walked
into the company conference room for her job interview wearing
that tight-skirted power suit.  Tall, slender, but definitely
not skinny.  Hair in a severe braid and just enough cosmetics
to make her dark eyes arrestingly luminous and her lips lushly
full.  In her combat suit, as part of her skills testing, he'd
seen the sinuous flow of muscular power that would have named
her "Cat" regardless of her given name.  And all those curves,
Matt mused again.  That skin-tight combat suit hadn't hidden
anything, not that Cat had anything that needed hiding.

But it had been the first time Matt had seen her in her "off-
duty" plumage that had knocked all his preconceptions about
Cat Donovan into orbit.  They'd run into each other at the
local theater and he'd damned near not recognized her.  Her
dark hair had hung soft and loose down around her shoulders -
not really long, but not what Matt had expected from the
combat tight cap or braids she wore at work.  The gown she'd
worn to that performance was sleek, and left not the slightest
doubt of her womanly figure, but the delicate lace at her
throat, the soft billows of the sheer sleeves and the
glittering earrings that unnecessarily called attention to the
beauty of her face were unexpected, intensely feminine
touches. Touches which proclaimed loudly that Cat was as
sensual as a woman as she was effective as a killer.  Matt
Sorenson had fallen in love with Cat Donovan that evening, in
the short few minutes they had spoken before taking their
seats.

She was so . . . strong - hell, Matt had always thought she
was almost invincible, and yet, parts of her were so . . . so
soft, too.  He fondly remembered her reaction to finding a
dozen roses from a "secret admirer" (spelled M-A-T-T) on her
desk.  She'd tried to be suspicious, like any good
professional security officer would be, but womanly
appreciation of the flowers' color and scent had quickly
elbowed her suspicions out of the way. 

So many hidden facets - so many lovely little surprises and
mysteries all combined together making up the tall, powerful
and sometimes intimidating package that was Cat Donovan.
*Gorgeous,* Matt smiled inwardly, *just gorgeous.  The woman
would have made a perfect model for a statue of Venus, Goddess
of Beauty.*  Then Matt thought to amend, *When she wasn't
working as Diana, Goddess of the Hunt in her job, of course.*

"Do I look crazy?" Robert retorted, calling Matt's attention
back to his two friends.

Adam interrupted to bring them back to the topic at hand. 
"Anyway, for whatever reason, Cat does not actually know the
full scope of your . . . changes.  She knew where you were and
personally headed up the security detail that protected you
during transition, and she mobilized the cops and about a
dozen private security companies to try and track down the
people behind the moon attack.  She's been one very busy
lady."

"But she does know about me, now, right?  I mean, what
happened to me?  What I became?  errr . . . Am?"  Matthew
asked.

Adam shook his head.  "She knows that your wish file was
tampered with, and that you are not what you wanted to become. 
Of course we had to tell her about all that this morning when
you first woke up and it became painfully obvious what had
happened.  She would have come charging right in here
immediately, but Bob had just sedated you.  Besides, that was
when the lead on our disappearing secretary came in," he
chuckled.  "She was *not* pleased, to put it mildly.  She is
going to make someone pay for this, and I almost feel sorry
for them when Cat Donovan catches up with them."

"I don't feel sorry for them in the least," Matt growled. 
"Brief Cat in - completely," she directed.  "We need to take
the offensive in this mess and Cat can't do that if she
doesn't know all the facts about what we are up against and
why.  I want her covering my back and I want her to know that
the back she is covering is mine.  She is also probably the
best person to teach me how to defend this body.  How soon can
I start working on that, Bob?" she slanted a look at Robert.

"Physically?  As soon as you have had a half hour or so to
digest that bowl of mush you inhaled at breakfast."  She
sniffed petulantly in response to his gentle jibe.  It had
tasted strangely wonderful and besides, she'd been *very*
hungry.  "Anytime you are ready, old friend.  The exercise
will probably do you good.  I will insist that the restraint
bands and the emotion blocks stay on until you are more
settled, though."

"I agree to that, Robert."  But without warning, fatigue
enfolded her and she reeled drunkenly.  "I guess I am still
recovering from the transition."

"It will take a while, Matt.  That transition put a hell of a
strain on your body's resources.  Take a short nap.  Cat will
be here when you wake up."

He really had no choice.  Teri helped him out of the robe and
into bed.  Her last thought as sleep enfolded him was that the
silky nightgown felt marvelous on her skin.  Sensations like
that would not be all *that* hard to get used to.

Interlude:

She looked around her apartment living room at the three
dimensional projections of her fellow conspirators.  She did
not know where their bodies actually were, and she did not
want to know.  The less she knew the better.  The better for
her, the better for the Cause.

She had opened the meeting with a concise account of the
latest repercussions of their abortive attempt to gain control
of BioCybernetics.  While the entire organization was "there"
in the room, only a select few, the leaders and the forward
contingent, would have anything to contribute to this meeting.

A faceless shape moved to the center of the throng.   All
other conversation in the room ceased as the person known to
the group only as the Leader spoke.  "We have heard Florence's
report.  Sorenson is alive and apparently well, having beaten
the overwhelming odds that he should have died in the
transition."

"Died?" the conspiracy's second in command spoke up.  Only she
would dare, Florence thought, and then wondered if even she
knew what the Leader really looked like.  "Hell, Leader,
that's the least of our problems.  Florence reports that he is
now nearly super human from both a physical and a mental
perspective.  Matthew Sorenson was a formidable, driven man
before this transition - a man possessed of incredible
determination and force of will.  I shudder to think of how
that focus will be directed now.  He poses an unacceptably
great risk to us and to our Cause."

The faceless holograph turned to acknowledge the speaker.  "I
agree, Freuda.  Your psychiatric analysis of him was one
reason we originally decided to eliminate him when this
opportunity presented itself.  It would appear we may have
tried to be too subtle in our approach to that goal.  Admin,
you worked for and with him for years, what is your
assessment?"

The projection of Matthew's former secretary shuddered
visibly.  "He and his staff will know all about Freuda's and
my roles in this operation.  The law offices that fronted for
our abortive takeover attempt will be rolled over fairly
easily when they are really pressed by the company's security
people.  Although I did follow our contingency plans to the
letter, those plans assumed that Sorenson wouldn't survive the
sex change."

"What has that to do with anything?" snapped Freuda.

"Simply this, Freuda.  The reason that Sorenson was called in
to consult on the moon is that he is a genius at computers and
data systems.  I cannot guarantee that the manipulation of the
BioCybernetics' computer systems did not leave some evidence
behind someone as brilliant as Sorenson cannot find and
exploit.  He won't rest until he knows who we are and why we
did it.  He has nearly unlimited resources and some very
formidable people at his disposal.  Exactly what he will do
once he finds those things out is unpredictable, other than
the obvious fact that it is unlikely to be good for us."

The Leader's holo turned back to the first speaker. 
"Florence, you said you had to restrain him at one point
today.  You did not indicate the circumstances.  Why?"

"He had a bad emotional reaction to finding out he is likely
to be very responsive, sexually, with men as well as women,
and that he is also fertile.  Apparently human physical
perfection includes a high degree of sexual sensitivity. 
After the patient fell asleep, the Doctor told me to expect
that she would regularly become sexually aroused in the course
of her therapy."

The Leader became silent for a few moments, considering that.
"So, Ms. Sorenson is potentially an easy lay, eh?  That may
work to our advantage.  As a minimum, using her sexuality to
distract her may provide us with needed breathing space while
we implement our contingency plans.  Freuda?"

"She did not actually undergo any preparatory therapy or
training prior to the transition.  Case in point,  look at how
difficult simply moving about was for her.  Her body is alien
to her.  The implications of a drastically altered hormonal
chemistry balance are issues we can safely assume that he, I
mean she, is totally unprepared to deal with."

"Very well."  The Leader turned back to Florence.  "Florence,
you said she responded to you, became aroused by you when you
dressed her?"

"Yes, she did.  Quite strongly, in fact.  Part of that was her
reaction to being dressed in very silky, overtly feminine
attire.  Still, I know that she was at least moderately
aroused by close proximity to me.  Her body language is still
masculine and I got definite signals of masculine attraction." 


"Excellent.  Use your position to encourage her sexual
development.  See if you can light the fuse of that sex bomb
she is so worried about.  I want her so enthralled with her
new sexuality that her mind is on nothing else."

"Yes, Leader," she responded.

"Very well."  The Leader turned to face the rest of the
assembled group.  "This has been a very disappointing period
for our movement.  The test of the computer bio-virus on the
moon installation has been defeated and is a failure since
even now, less dangerous methods to isolate the biological
infection are being tested at several companies.  The attack
on Sorenson and the attempt to take over his company has also
failed, costing us two intelligence assets of inestimable
value when both Admin and Freuda had to be pulled out of their
deep cover identities.  If we are to succeed in stopping the
masculine resurgence on this planet, we must not fail again. 
The rest of you, continue with Contingency Plan A.  Freuda, I
need a new psych profile on our adversary.  Work with Florence
to get the data you need.  We will meet here again in one
week."

Therese Richards RN, code named Florence (for Nightingale),
watched the holographic images dissolve.  Well, she mused to
herself, at least this time her subject was cute.  She would
enjoy breaking in a virgin.  With that thought, she switched
off the lights, and headed for her bed.  Tomorrow was going to
be a very interesting day.

Chapter 7:  The Big Cat

At that precise moment, Catherine Brenda Donovan, Security
Executive, looked much more like the combat-ready Captain
Donovan, United States Marine Corps, than BioCybernetics Chief
of Security.   Adam had seen the volatile Big Cat in an angry
mood before, but never anything quite like this.  After all,
Cat Donovan's temper was legendary, both in the Corps and at
BioCybernetics.  What was unusual in this particular case was
that, this time, she was not making any effort to either
control or hide her displeasure from the two individuals she
currently held responsible for that state of affairs.

Cat Donovan considered permitting her temper to show outwardly
to be a weakness and she did not ordinarily tolerate such
human responses in herself.  Still, she reminded herself, this
was a unique situation.  A saint would lose her cool given
what she had just been told and Cat had never aspired to
sainthood.

Still, she wasn't going to get the answers she needed and
wanted unless she got her rage under control and began acting
like the competent and extremely dangerous professional she
was.  Taking a hard grip on her emotions, she sat back down
behind her desk to face Adam and Robert once more.  It made
their damned necks just that much farther away.  They might
just need that tiny extra edge before this interview was over. 
Cat gave a short bark of laughter at the ludicrous mental
image of her holding each man by the throat.  It helped calm
her, at least momentarily.  "Okay, I want to make sure I
really did hear what I think I just heard.  Please, do not
hesitate to interrupt and correct me if I get any of these
details wrong." 

It was a measure of the relationship shared by the trio that
the two men didn't pale or squirm under her the steely gaze of
Cat's ice cold gray eyes.  For all her current fury, Cat was
their friend and their partner, and would have reacted in much
the same way had either of them been the one attacked by their
still-unknown foes.  But, neither would interrupt her just
then and all three of them knew it.  Cat Donovan was in a
highly volatile mood.  

"Matthew has not been changed into a younger, slimmer,
healthier version of himself.  Matthew is not Matthew anymore. 
Matthew," she spat out the name with increasing emphasis and
emotion each time she said it, "is not even *male* anymore. 
Do I have this all right so far?"  She stopped and stared
harder at the two men across from her, then gave them a "come
on, give" motion with her hands.  Robert made the mistake of
nodding and trying to frame a verbal response.

Cat exploded out of her chair and slammed her palms on the
desk.  "And you believed that he wanted you to do that?  Are
you two crazy or just so smart you are stupid?  What on god's
earth ever gave you the idea that Matthew Sorenson wanted to
be a woman?"  The force of her bellow made the acoustic tile
that soundproofed her office seem to vibrate.

Robert looked at Adam, who only scowled impatiently before
nodding for the doctor to answer.  West gave the lawyer a
"thanks loads" look and turned back to face Cat.  "Umm . . .
Well, his wish file was pretty specific, Cat.  It was encoded,
and the comments were Matt's style."

"Oh, bullshit!" Cat snorted in disgust.  "You *ARE* that
stupid."

"Dammit, Donovan, I've had just about enough from you!" Adam
snarled, slamming his own fist on her desk hard enough to
knock Cat's communicator askew.  "You will treat us and this
problem professionally or by god, I will bounce your ass right
out of this company."

"You can't do that!" Cat growled back even as she recalled
that while Matt was officially incapacitated - a judgement
rendered by the other man she had just been berating - that
the lawyer really *did* run the company.

Adam saw that recognition in her dark eyes, and though there
wasn't the least sign of weakness in her posture or bearing,
he knew he didn't need to press that point any further. 
Instead, he switched gears from threats to logic.  

"Remember that we had damned little time to make this
decision, okay?  We did our best.  We even ran a computer
analysis on the documents that Matt had supposedly generated
in that file and got a 90-plus percent probability that they
were his work.  We didn't account for the fact that a longtime
personal secretary can usually forge more than just her boss'
signature, but we damn well did our best and what we *THOUGHT*
our friend wanted.  So lay off, okay?"

The normally mild mannered attorney did not often lose his
temper, either, and even more rarely raised his voice, but
when he did, people, even Cat Donovan, listened.  Adam Jacob
was still the number two man in the company for very good
reasons like intelligence, integrity and personal courage. 
Adam quietly looked into Cat's eyes, and saw her reconsidering
her words.  Nodding his head, Adam resettled himself back into
the seat leaving Cat still leaning against her desk.

Robert quickly took up his explanation again, "As Adam pointed
out, Cat, the file had all the supporting documentation we
decided to require all those months ago, and it all checked
out - or at least, seemed to check out to the best of our
ability to check them."  Then Robert's face brightened as he
added, "And we asked him - twice!"

"When he was so spaced out on drugs and stress from living in
that cyborg-surreal world he was in that he probably didn't
understand the question and couldn't answer completely
anyway," Cat replied in soft, silky and disgusted voice as she
too sat back down.  

Adam shook his head.  "What other choice did we have, Cat?" he
asked more reasonably.  "We had, or rather, we *thought* we
had the agreed-upon documentation, we had circumstantial
evidence and we had his answers when we questioned him.  Maybe
we could have asked the questions more carefully - like, "Good
god, Matthew, why in hell would you EVER want to be a girl?"
but we didn't ask it that way and he went into coma so quickly
we never got another chance."

Cat obviously wanted there to have been another choice, and
for that reason, she wanted to stay angry at Adam and Robert,
but it was also obvious that Cat's sense of fair play was
kicking in and her temper was cooling.  *I think I agree with
Adam,* Robert thought, glad that Cat's fury wasn't really
directed at him, *I almost pity the sorry bastards who did
this to Matt when Cat gets her claws into them.*  Then he
thought again.  *Like hell I do!*

Cat's still unhappy growl snapped Bob back from his private
thoughts.  "You haven't answered my question, Robert.  Why did
you *ever* think that Matt wanted to become female.  I would
really, *really* like to know the answer to that question."

*And I really, *really* don't want to answer that question,*
he thought unhappily.  A lump formed in his throat, and he
swallowed hard several times to clear it so that he could
answer.  "You," he finally managed to cough out.  "You were
the reason, in the documents he purportedly left behind in his
Wish File."

Cat's brows curved in shocked surprise as she fell back down
into her chair, stunned.  "Me?  What did I have to do with
this idiocy?  What could possibly make you think that I was in
any way involved in that?"

"We knew you two are friends, ummmm . . . good friends.  We
also knew that Matthew would have liked to become . . . better
friends, but you don't . . . uhhhhhhhh . . . "  Robert
stuttered and a blood red flush crept up his face.

"Dammit, Robert," Cat screamed in frustration, "will you just
spit it out."

"You don't take males as lovers.  The documents indicated that
Matt was hopelessly in love with you and had decided that the
only way he could have you was to be a woman, too.  That is
why we did not tell you about it.  We had been directed not to
tell you because Matt, or rather, the setup was that Matt did
not want you intervening and trying to stop him."

Cat lowered her hands down to her desk very slowly and
deliberately.  Her mouth worked several times as she sought
words to say, and then rejected them unsaid.

Adam tried to help.  "It seemed to fit the data we had at the
time, Cat.  We all knew that Matt was very fond of you."

"Fond, hell," Robert snorted, "he's been head over heels in
lust, and more than a little in love with you since the first
day he set eyes on you."

Adam stepped into deflect a brewing Cat-storm at Bob's ill-
chosen words, "Whatever.  But the key point is, Cat, that he
*liked* you too much to press you about it, and potentially
lose your friendship and trust. It was not such a great leap
of belief to assume that he might consider taking such a step
if he was really in love with you.  You know he isn't a man to
quail at doing what he thinks has to be done if he has decided
the ultimate goal is important enough."

"And so, you took this huge risk, endangered the life of your
best friend with an unproven and risky procedure?"

Robert was feeling braver now.  Catherine was merely disgusted
now.  "Like Adam just said, Cat, we didn't really have a
helluva lot of choice.  We had to use the procedure on him in
any case.  You know him well enough to understand how he'd
feel about that living death.  Both transitions were equally
risky once I had done enough actual tissue culture tests to be
able to predict his survivability probabilities for each new
genome."

"That, at least, will keep you alive, Robert," Cat said
gruffly.  "So now *he* is a nearly super human *she*?  You
made her into some computer's idea of the nearly perfect
female human?"

Robert blushed again.  "Well, we did do that, but there is
just a bit more to it than that.  Since we thought he was
doing it to be with you, and since we like both of you so much
and wanted you to be happy . . . we . . . ahhhh, well, we sort
of stacked the deck a bit."

"I am getting very tired of pulling things out of you by hand,
Robert.  Do you want me to get some pliers?  DAMMIT, talk to
me!"

"We_made_her_in_to_your_ideal_woman!"  Robert spit the words
out so quickly that no variation, inflection or separation
could be heard between the individual words.

"I . . . don't . . . think . . .  I . . . understand . . .
that," Cat responded, ice dripping off each word.

Robert pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow.  "We used
the computer to correlate genetic similarities among the women
you have been close to in recent years - at least in the ten
years we've known you.  Then we did an analysis among those
correlations to identify the physical and mental
characteristics you find most attractive in a partner.  We
used that data to partially constrain our optimization
program.  Essentially, if there was a choice to be made among
a set of "good traits" that were equally acceptable otherwise,
the computer picked the one most likely to appeal to you."

"And all that worked?"

Adam answered her.  "She is really beautiful, Cat."

"Great!" Cat sputtered, as she dropped gracelessly back down
into her chair.  "That is just great.  Here I have to be a
twenty-four-hour-a-day, seven-day-a-week bodyguard to the
woman of my dreams.  Do you know how tough unrequited lust is
to deal with when you have to be alert?"

Robert muttered, "As if it is likely to remain unrequited."

"I heard that, Bobby," Cat's head snapped back up to glare
indignantly at the old doctor.  "No WAY would I take advantage
of my best friend that way.  She is safe from me."

"You may as well know, that it may well be the other way
around, Cat," Robert replied, his voice back in his
"professor-mode".  "The very characteristics that make her
physical self so impressive will likely carry over into her
sex drive.  And she has no experience dealing with a feminine
sexual need and physical reactions that would be merely in the
normal range, but that is not what she will have.  Matt has a
99.5%-plus probability of having a highly sexed libido."

"Well, that ought to give poor Matt fits.  But hell, most
girls like boys.  I should be safe from her."

"Matt's body may be that of a fully fertile female, but her
thinking is still all-male.  That might change over time, at
least somewhat, but just today, her own body aroused her.  I
think it is far more likely that she will end up completely
indifferent to the gender of her potential partners.  And
besides, she already likes you, and lusts for you, Cat.  More
than that, she wants you to help her train physically and to
teach her self defense and fighting techniques."

Cat's mind flew to the image of her hands and body in close,
intimate contact with another woman's sweaty body while locked
in the throes of primitive, physical competition.  Her dream
lover's wet, sweaty and sexy body.  She groaned.  "Oh, shit. 
Can't we get anyone else to do this?"

"Do you want anyone else to do it?  She's your friend, too. 
Is there anyone else that would be better for her?"

"Damn you, Robert," she sighed, admitting defeat.  "Okay, what
is the plan?"

"I wanted her to get some more rest, so I snuck a bit of a
sedative into her meal.  She will be out for at least another
eight hours.  I think it best if you are there when she
awakens."

"And if she makes a move on me?"

Robert considered that and shook his head.  "As I said
earlier, I don't think there is any "if" about that.  It is
definitely going to happen.  So, do you care about her?  Are
you going to hurt her?"

"Of course I care about him . . . errr . . . her.  And I don't
hurt people I care about."

"Then follow your instincts.  We have to protect her.  Whoever
did this will have to try again once they find out they failed
to kill her.  They have to know that Matt Sorenson won't rest
until he gets to the bottom of this.  They must know him
pretty well given the intelligence his 'loyal' executive
assistant would have on him.  They have to know that their
only chance is to take him, now her, out permanently."

"They will have to come after him again," Cat growled.  

Adam would have sworn he could see hackles rising on the
Amazon warrior.  "That's how we see it, Cat," he replied
steadily.

Cat nodded.  "And we have to assume that they still have
people on the inside.  It would be stupid to assume that all
of their people left with that bitch of a secretary."

Adam nodded.  "Someone with very good cyber skills has been
tracking project progress through our computers.  We've found
bits and pieces of lost webs of data in the data banks
indicating that someone has been in them without permission. 
The change in security status for the computers only happened
after they made their takeover play.  I don't think Martha, if
that was her real name, was that skilled."

"Okay.  I will get on it.  I am only going to bring selected
people into this.  People I *know* I can trust.  What about
your people, Adam?  Robert?"

"Only my longtime law school friend is privy to any of this in
the legal offices, Cat," Adam replied.  "All the records are
already sealed and copies are being held for us by three
different institutions of impeccable reputation.  Corporately,
we are safe."

"The processes and records associated with the transition are
now under DNA coded computer lockdown.  As to the people, all
are Code 1 Security cleared."

"Wasn't Martha Code 1 cleared?  Of course she was, so that
restriction isn't enough.  The three of us need to approve
anyone who gets access to that data personally.  Lock out
everyone but the three of us, and set up the new protocols,
Adam.  Now, what about the people who are treating her?"

Robert answered this time. "All have been with us for at least
three years."  Cat frowned.  "Yeah, I know. Same as Martha. 
Well, the treatment is controlled by what I authorize in the
computer.  No one else can access those controls.  They can't
do anything to her, medically anyway, that I don't approve
before hand."

"Okay.  First priority is to upgrade her security.  Second
priority is to recheck the background of everyone with direct
access to her.  We will dig deep this time."  Both men nodded
their assent.  "All right, gentlemen, I need to get the ball
rolling and get some rest.  See to some accommodation for me
near her, Robert, and get some exercise gear installed in
there, too.  Until we have her on her feet, I want her inside
that facility.  It is built to resist anything short of a
direct plasma burst."  

Interlude:

The holograph of Freuda blurred into existence.  "What is it,
Florence?  Did you forget something in your report?"  The tone
of voice was haughty and arrogant.  Sternly, Teri reminded
herself just how much she owed this woman.  Still, the woman's
peremptory manner set Teri's back up.

"No, Freuda.  My relief just called to tell me that Security
Chief Donovan will be on board twenty four hours a day
starting with my shift tomorrow.  I will have to be careful
with my advances."

"Donovan is a female lover.  I don't see where she should pose
a problem.  Seduce her, too."

Teri wanted to shake her head in disgust, but did not.  This
woman was too powerful, too dangerous.  "I will try, Freuda,
but you have to insure that contingencies account for her
presence.  She is a very smart and dangerous woman.  You have
seen the dossier on her.  We have no one in her organization
and she is going to be trying to find us."

"She will try.  However, the fact that we were unable to
infiltrate her group is moot.  She will naturally assume that
her security is, in fact, compromised.  That will force her to
move much more deliberately than she might otherwise.  Very
well.  We will consider this in our plans.  Proceed with your
orders."  Without another word, the holograph shimmered and
evaporated.

Stunned at the woman's arrogance, Florence/Teri just shook her
head.  She wanted to say, "Bitch," but feared that she was
still under monitor.  She satisfied herself by thinking it.  

Twice.  

Chapter 8: Awakening.

Cat Donovan impatiently finger combed braid-escaping black
hair-wisps out of her eyes before palming open the DNA keyed
door - having arrived fifteen minutes later than she had
planned.  Unusual as being late for anything was for Cat, if
her tardiness had been the result of overly enthusiastic
attention to their duties on the part of her security
officers, Cat wouldn't have minded.  She would have even been
a little pleased.

Cat Donovan was in no way pleased. 

While on her way to meet with the newly transformed Matthew
Sorenson, Cat had decided to execute a-spur-of-the-moment
security penetration drill.  Nothing out of the ordinary -
just a little spot check on her procedures and her people. 
Unfortunately, she had easily slipped through the first two
layers of security undetected before MacPherson had challenged
and detained her. *Tough kid,* Cat thought with just a touch
of admiration.  Cat would have to keep an eye on that Scots
lass, but based on her performance today, it looked like Morag
MacPherson was ready for advanced training and promotion.  

MacPherson's hand-to-hand skills were certainly top notch. 
She had taken Cat down with a first class move and had Cat
restrained before she'd even realized that her opponent was
her own boss.  Given that Cat Donovan topped out at over 180
centimeters in height (six feet one inch) and that her
muscular yet shapely frame massed at just over 75 kilos (165
lbs), that was no small achievement on the part of the young
security officer. 

Calming down a surprised and somewhat upset Officer MacPherson
had cost Cat even more time. Then Cat had backtracked to
locate the two security officers who had let her slip through
their perimeters unchallenged and worse, undetected.  She had
then proceeded to thoroughly ruin their day, week and month. 
Those two young lads were not going to enjoy their duty
assignments for the next few weeks.  Not at all. 

Cat was still fuming as she waited for the door to swish open. 
That there had been two more security perimeters to penetrate
after she had gotten by them, or that she had eventually been
stopped well short of the objective was beside the point.  She
should not have gotten past the first layer without an alarm
being sounded.  Well, she wouldn't be able to the next time,
at least.  Word would get around very quickly that the Boss
was prowling again.

As would word of what was going to happen to those two fools
she'd caught out.  Object lessons and public, ritual
executions worked.

Just then, Cat wanted to see the interior layout of the lab as
an intruder might see it.  How was the room furnished?  Where
would the targets likely be in the room?  Where were the
hiding places and the escape hatches?  Those were questions
that would be better answered if Cat could enter unannounced
which was done easily enough.  Once she'd gone through the
identification procedures with the door guard, Cat had ordered
him to mute the door chime when she entered the lab.

Cat slipped soundlessly into the lab and made a quick, covert
reconnaissance.  She found that the place had undergone major
renovations since her last inspection, which she'd conducted
prior to activating the latest security plan updates.  

Furniture had been installed in the large, main room space,
making it resemble a large studio or loft apartment instead of
a sick ward.  A couple of brightly colored shoji screens
provided some semblance of privacy.  Evidently, the other
secured rooms weren't in general use yet.  One of those would
do for a gym if Matt was really serious about wanting Cat to
teach him how to move and fight in that new body of his, and
then Cat corrected herself - that new body of *hers.*  

*But where is the . . . ?* Cat mused before she saw her - off
in one of the far corners.  A woman wearing a nurse's uniform
sat monitoring some type of console.  She was trying to be
unobtrusive, which was precisely what first alerted Cat's
combat trained senses.  *What do you expect of a professional,
Donovan?* Cat asked herself.  *Being non-obvious is as much a
part of this nurse's job as being on the spot if something
goes wrong with her patient.  Well, Bobby would only hire the
best.*

The only other person in the room was seated at a small table
in an area decorated like a breakfast nook.  Cat watched the
slender, auburn haired woman eat for several minutes without
making any effort to make her presence known.  The woman's
manipulation of her spoon was odd, somehow.  She watched a bit
longer and decided her subject was being unusually careful and
deliberate with the spoon.  Cat's grandfather had been like
that when arthritis had stiffened his joints and he was afraid
that he might burn himself spilling hot soup.

*Well,* she thought, *there's only one person that can
possibly be.  Delaying the moment of introduction doesn't do
anyone any good.  I wonder how close to the mark Robert was? 
My dream woman, eh?  Right.  SURE she is,* she snorted
mentally, and then coughed quietly to attract the woman's
attention.

The spoon clattered into the dish and the woman spun in her
chair.  Cat was amazed at how quickly and yet how clumsily the
woman moved.  She nearly fell as she tried to gain her feet
but she managed to steady herself by catching the back of her
chair in her hand.  Cat knew the instant the other woman
recognized her.  A glorious smile of total happiness lit up
her entire face.  Catherine Brenda Donovan's lungs seemed to
deflate suddenly and her heart missed several beats.

*Oh, shit,* she thought.  *How am I ever going to keep my
hands off her.  My god, but she is wonderful.*

Thought stopped when Matt stumbled from the chair to half
walk, half fall to Cat.  "Oh Cat, I am so glad you are here. 
I am so damned frightened!" 

*Shit!* she thought. *He's crying . . . I mean . . . She's
crying . . . I mean . . . Shit!*

Carefully, Cat used her strength to right the body in her
arms, and then help her into a nearby chair.  A glance at the
nurse watcher showed that she was carefully monitoring
something on her board, but that she was not overly concerned. 
"Easy, Matthew, easy," she soothed as she hugged the
incredibly cuddly body closer to her own.  This was really not
going to be easy.

"Damn, but I hate that," the vision said as she slowly
struggled to compose herself.  Cat's gut wrenched painfully at
the words.  Matthew looked up to see the hurt look, and
strangely, understood.  "No, no.  Not . . . this."  She hugged
harder to emphasize what she meant.  "I mean the crying, the
emotion swings.  Everything is so . . ." she fumbled for a
word.  "Intense.  Everything!  I have only been up for an hour
and I have laughed one minute, sobbed the next, and then was
giggling like a loon again.  There doesn't seem to be any
"middle of the road" in the way I feel and sense everything. 
Even that bowl of thin, unseasoned gruel they gave me to eat
tastes great."

Relieved, Cat gently pushed Matthew away from her and
companionably squeezed his . . . *her* shoulder.  "It's okay,
pal," she said, using their long standing term of endearment. 
In the past, "pal" had let them recognize their unique
friendship while keeping their relationship just a friendship. 
"Doctor Bob told me to expect this.  That cute little body
they gave you is a regular high production hormone factory and
you don't have any built-in tolerance for them."

The impatient look she got in return was pure Sorenson.  "They
told me to expect those reactions, too, Cat, but living with
them is another thing entirely.  I can't relate the
experiences to anything I have ever known before.  The closest
I can come to how I feel is when I was just into puberty.  I
was just one large gland.  Just the *thought* of a girl's
breast gave me a hardon that sucked every drop of blood right
out of my brain.  Christ, Cat - now *I've* got the boobs and I
am still getting hardons."  Matthew lifted his hands to his
breasts where two sharp points poked at the thin satiny night
clothes.  "Two of them, in fact." 

Cat swallowed and felt the knot in her gut spread. *Calm DOWN,
Donovan,* she growled to herself.  *He doesn't even realize
what he was doing to you.  Robert sure has done very well in
the dream girl department.  Too damned well!*

*This is MATTHEW!* her mind ordered over and over again, *Your
best and only *guy* friend.*

*THIS is pure SEX!* her overactive libido roared back.  *And
THAT is *not* any type of *guy*.*  

"Uhhh.  Yeah, I can see that, pal."  *Get your mind on your
business, Donovan,* she thought.  "Now, would you mind
finishing your breakfast so we can get on with what we need to
do today?  Robert and Adam said you needed protecting,
physical training and self defense training."

It was fascinating, Cat thought, watching as the intellect
reclaimed control over that killer body once she'd given it a
problem to focus on.  The face was still piquantly feminine,
almost sweet, but the frown was one Cat had seen in countless
strategy meetings over the years of their association and
friendship.  

It was going to be an interesting war, this combat between an
overactive and vibrantly alive feminine body versus the
brilliant and coldly calculating male intellect.  Cat hoped
that an armistice and peaceful coexistence came soon - *real*
soon.  But once he was reconciled with being a she, wouldn't
that combination make her into one very formidable human
being?  Cat grinned at the possibilities.

Matt nodded and walked back to her breakfast.  Christ, she
still walked like a man. *That bouncing movement must be
really uncomfortable with her body mass redistributed like
that.*  

Her musings were interrupted by Matt's voice.  "We have to
figure out who did this to me, and why.  Even though the
transition is permanent, I still have to know the who and the
why, Cat.  When you consider that list of duties that Bob and
Adam gave you, don't lose sight of that little requirement. 
You can't protect me forever.  Sooner or later, they might get
lucky unless we can neutralize them first."

Although she shouldn't have been, Cat was momentarily
surprised.  *She* had already figured that out and she was
planning to go on the offensive as soon as she had some solid
intelligence about their adversary.  She had not anticipated
Matt figuring that out so soon, not with everything else Fate
had heaped on his, or rather, her plate.  

She had forgotten for a moment who she was dealing with.  This
very youthful looking, auburn haired woman possessed the
accumulated knowledge and experience of a man who had spent
thirty five years swimming in the shark infested waters of the
corporate world.  Looks like he, or rather she, could still
hunt shark.  That would be an advantage, at least for a while. 
She was going to very easy to underestimate.  "Okay, pal.  But
first, we need to get that bag of bones into shape.  C'mon,
girl.  Lets find out if Doctor Bob remembered to give that new
bod of yours any muscles."

Chapter 9: Working out the Kinks

"One hundred seventy four centimeters tall (5'8.5") and 56.5
kilograms, Matt."  Cat looked up from her datapad.  "Not too
shabby, but you are little high, percent body fat-wise, on the
immersion test."

Matt sniffed.  "Doesn't look too bad to me, pal," she said as
she posed naked in front of a mirrored wall in the security
facilities gym.  "I am glad to have those damned electronic
restraints off, though."

"Don't get used to it, pal.  They go back on as soon as we
finish here."  Cat figured she could keep Matt from hurting
herself while they were working out and she did not want the
restraints activating at the wrong time.  Like during fighting
drills when sudden immobility might get her friend's face
smashed.  "And as for the body fat, well, by the time I am
done with you, your body fat will be half what it is right now
and you will mass out at over 60 kilos, Matty m'boy."  Cat
stopped short as a frown darkened Matt's green eyes.  "What's
the matter, pal?  What did I say?"

She was quiet for a long while, simply staring blankly through
Cat.  "I am not a boy anymore, Cat.  I never will be one
again.  That hurts to think about, that's all.  And right now,
when I feel that way, I feel it big time - just like I feel
everything else."  She steeled herself against the pain of
lost dreams.  "I need to face what I am now and what I can be
in the future.  Can we try to stop thinking of the man I used
to be, at least for a while?  Until I am used to being a . .
." Matt stopped.  Her mouth opened and shut, but no sound came
out.

"A girl, Matt?  Actually, a woman - is that what you are
trying so hard to say?" Cat asked softly.  Mutely, Matt
nodded.   "That is what you are, old friend.  A damned pretty
one, too.  Trust me on that one, and you can trust me on this,
too.  Being female can be pretty nice." 

At Matt's dubious glare, she chuckled.  She would really like
to show Matt just how nice being a girl could be, but that
would be taking advantage of her . . . dammit, his confusion. 
And it was definitely a "him" who was confused.  For all that
feminine beauty, the mind inside that tight little body was
"Pure-Matt" and Cat did not think her old buddy Matt was ready
to deal with those nice aspects just yet.  Cat would bide her
time until Matt had *her* feet back under her - wait until she
could handle being more than just friends with Matt's old
buddy, Cat.  If that ever came to pass, however, the waiting
would come to an screeching halt.  Cat would trip her "old-
buddy" and beat him . . . errr . . . her to the floor. *Guess
Matt isn't the only one around here who is confused by all of
this.*

Another thought came to Cat just then and she spoke before she
had a chance to hesitate.  "You know, Matt, it might be a lot
easier for you, hell - easier for all of us - to deal with
this if we did not constantly remind ourselves that you used
to be a guy every time we called you by your name."

"What?  I don't think I understand you, Cat."

"Your name, pal," Cat said with exaggerated patience, "I think
we need to give you a new name - at least for the duration. 
Every time I call you "Matt", you close up for a few seconds. 
So, girl friend, what is your new name?"

Matt was stunned.  Even his name, she realized slowly.  Those
bastards had taken everything that Matthew Sorenson had
thought was inalienably his.  She was even going to lose the
name given him by loving parents to whoever was responsible
for this . . . change.  But Cat was right, he finally admitted
to himself.  He - NO, dammit - *she* did close up every time
someone called out his old name.  "God, Cat.  I don't know. 
Matty, maybe?"  Her tone of voice gave away her uncertainty
and lack of comfort with that option.

Cat picked up on her friend's internal conflict and shook her
head emphatically.  "Not a good choice, chum.  It's too close. 
You'll still hear the "Matt" every time someone calls you
"Matty".  That won't help any of us.  Find something else."

"Christ, Cat, I never even had a kid of my own to name as
Matthew.  The last thing I ever named was a pet dog when I was
a kid and I named her Ralph."

"Her?  Girl, you do need help." The laughter in Cat's eyes and
voice eased some of the anxiety.  "Okay, let's see, we could
get the computer to help.  Put in some constraints, then
choose from the listing."

"No, I don't think so.  It was your idea.  What would you call
me?"

Cat had not anticipated that request and it momentarily
stopped her mental processes cold.  The woman he had become
was so beautiful, so perfect.   It was like she had stepped
out of that long-ago garden of youthful fantasies a young Cat
Donovan had secretly cultivated, and then hidden away back
when she'd been struggling with her sexual identity.  The
woman in that fantasy garden had had a name, too, and that
name had been . . .

"Mandy." 

The sound of her own voice surprised Cat.  She had not meant
to say that name out loud.

"Mandy," her friend repeated, instantly.  Matthew let the name
float in her head, and decided she liked it.  "Mandy, it is,"
she agreed, grinning up at the taller woman.

Fighting the strange and unusual emotions clogging in her
throat, Cat could initially only nod.  Then, she coughed, and
in a gruff voice ordered, "Okay then, Mandy, let's get your
lazy butt into the gym."

Chapter 10:  Training Camp

A week later, a tired, but pleased Cat settled into the second
bed she had ordered installed in her friend's room.  Things
had gone well once they had both gotten over the initial
embarrassment of seeing each other, with Matt, now Mandy as a
woman.  And what a woman, Cat sighed inwardly.

Fortunately for both of them, the combination of Mandy's lack
of stamina and Cat's lovingly ruthless training program had
left her charge with little energy for exploring her
sexuality.  On the downside, however, was the simple fact
that, at the rate Mandy's new body was getting into shape,
that ploy would not work long.  As good as her own fitness
level was, Cat could not afford to drive herself as hard as
was rapidly becoming necessary if she was going to continue to
exhaust Mandy.  She had to maintain her own alertness, after
all, and Mandy was becoming one very fit female very quickly.

A thought hit her.  Maybe it was time to involve someone else
in the process.  MacPherson was fit and had a good, cool head
on her shoulders.  Good in a fight, too, as Cat had learned
the hard way.  She did not have to know who they were
protecting or why, so Mandy's secret could remain protected. 
Adam and Robert wouldn't like it much, but Cat knew she was
going need help, maybe even backup, and her gut told her she
could trust the carrot-topped MacPherson.

Just as she decided that she had everything under control,
Mandy shifted in her sleep and the coverlet fell.  A shapely,
rose tipped globe peaked at Cat in the dim light of the
sleeping chamber.  Cat Donovan groaned.  Another good reason
to get Morag MacPherson in on this.  She could be the practice
dummy once they started the self defense lessons.  Cat figured
she could handle being in a clinch with Mandy for all of about
30 seconds before she took the girl to the mat and had her
wicked way with the little virgin.  A soft purring sound
issued from Mandy and a sensual smile slowly lit her sleeping
features.  Cat pounded on her pillow.  Sleep did not come
easily that night.  

~--------------~

For herself, Mandy was not sure what to make of the young
woman in the uniform of her company's Security Force.  The
sleek, elasto-polymer jumpsuit had been designed for ease of
movement and for the wearer's protection.  In fact, it was
woven of a special fiber that absorbed the kinetic energy from
impact weapons and then dissipated it as light.  The suit was
also highly resistant to edged weapons cutting through it. 
However, it also fit the wearer like a second skin, showing
every bump and bone.  Mandy's still thoroughly male mentality
could not help but notice and approve because Morag MacPherson
had very nice bumps and bones, indeed.

She was probably being paranoid, she told herself, but finding
someone she did not know in her inner sanctum had shaken her
badly this morning.  The young security officer had taken up a
position just inside her bed chamber so that Cat could answer
nature's call.  The terrified scream Mandy'd cut loose the
moment her befuddled wits had registered that the person was
not Cat had brought that worthy person charging out of her
shower at a hard run with death in her eyes.

In hindsight, the entire scene had been comical - something
out of an early Twentieth Century slapstick movie.  A
stupefied MacPherson trying to get close enough to Mandy to
calm her. A badly frightened, screeching Mandy scooting around
in her night shift, trying to keep the bed between herself and
the unknown intruder.  Poor, confused, then furious Cat,
standing on the bed, naked and dripping, trying to bellow over
the general hysteria and restore some order.  And then, the
ultimate indignity when the duty nurse activated the
restraints because her board readings indicated that Mandy was
on the verge of hysteria.

*Have to do something about that as soon as Bob says those
things can come off,* Cat thought. *That makes it too easy for
the bad guys if we ever do get penetrated.*

After introductions, and Cat's embarrassed admission that she
probably should have waited to bring MacPherson until after
Mandy was awake, things settled.  Except for a bad scare and a
bump on her head from the fall Mandy had taken when the
restraints activated, the only real casualty had been
Catherine's dignity from her nude dash across the apartment.

Actually, Mandy mused, most of the results of that little
comedy were quite positive - at least from her perspective. 
The leg restraints were gone, and the hand restraints replaced
by gentler ones that locked her hands together in front of
her, so she could catch herself if she fell with them
activated.  The apartment was being rapidly reconfigured with
a bathroom directly accessible from the bed chamber.  No more
trekking across the lab/apartment to go potty or to bathe.  

But, best of all, she'd finally gotten to see Catherine
Donovan in all her feminine glory. *God, but that was a whole
lot of beautiful woman,* Mandy thought.  A curl of desire
twisted in her belly and she fought that thought back into her
hidden mind.  "You have no time for that," she told herself
sternly.  Then her mind whispered back, *Still . . .*

"Miss Mandy?"  The soft, oddly accented voice of the young
woman broke in on her reveries.  Mandy looked up from her bowl
of hot cereal.  "Is something wrong with your breakfast?" 

"No . . . no," Mandy stammered back.  "It's fine.  I was just
thinking.  That's all.  Ummmm, Officer MacPherson?"  Her name
being spoken so softly brought her quickly to full attention. 
"Could you please just call me "Mandy"?"   No, the last thing
she needed was anything else new added to her name to confuse
her more than she already was.

Morag was not so certain.  "I dunno, ma'am," she said
deferentially.  "I dinna think the Chief would cotton ta me
usin' yer proper name, ma'am."  

Delighted with the young woman's softly rolling brogue, Mandy
nonetheless took charge. "Let me worry about Cat, Officer
MacPherson.  She will do as I ask."

"Oh, and will I?" came a sardonic voice from behind.  "And
just what am I going to do, Mandy?"

The young security officer looked like she wanted to hide
under the table, but Mandy just turned and smiled at her old
friend.  Cat recognized that smile, too - it was the one that
Matthew wore when he was about to throw a fox among the
chickens.  "Why, I was just telling Morrie, here, how I wanted
all the people close to me to call me by my given name, Mandy. 
She was worried you would not like it."

"Don't you think that might be just a little too familiar for
a body guard, Mandy?"

Mandy tried a little lip quiver and voice quaver, just to see
if it worked on Cat as well as those ploys used to work on
good old Matthew.  "Aren't you my body guard, too?  You call
me Mandy." 

The answering grin told Mandy that she did not have meek
feminine wiles quite down, yet.  "Oh, I suppose.  Particularly
since it is very hard to be all that respectful when you are
kicking someone's butt and cleaning their clock for them. 
"Morrie," and Cat gave that familiarized version of
MacPherson's name heavy irony, "is going to be your sparing
partner when we start mat work in self defense."  Cat let her
grin become devilish.  "Did I tell you, Mandy, how she took me
down the other day when I tried to penetrate her security
position?"

Mandy swallowed hard and looked between the grinning Chief and
her increasingly uncomfortable subordinate.  Why, the girl was
in absolute awe of Donovan.  Well, Matt Sorenson had been in
too many verbal skirmishes in his, now her life to give in
that easily.  "Good," she answered equitably.  "Then she can
teach me how she did it so I can do it to you, too."

A single dark brow lifted on Cat's face.  She crossed her arms
and looked at the now cold bowl of mush.  "Well, if that is
your goal, I suggest you finish eating.  You are going to need
a *lot* of teaching and time is a-wasting."

~------------~

That evening, Cat and a very tired, very sore Mandy sat in the
small living room after a light dinner.  Morrie, as she was
slowly becoming comfortable being called, was going to have
the graveyard shift and had been sent to bed.  Mandy was
"doodling" on the computer pad and Cat was savoring a very
excellent de-alcoholized brandy.  She would have preferred the
real thing, but she was on duty.

"MacPherson is very good," Cat observed to break the silence. 
"She gave you just the resistance you needed to improve your
form on the techniques without making it too easy on you." 
Mandy made an inarticulate noise that might have been
agreement and continued to stare at the screen in front of
her.  "What are you looking at?" Cat asked.  Matt Sorenson had
often been like this when something caught his attention, so
Mandy's lack of a clear response did not surprise Cat very
much.  She moved over behind her friend to see better.

Rolling 3-D graphs, numbers and equations were seemingly
haphazardly strewn about the screen.  A newly polished bright
red fingernail (a gift from the head nurse, Teri something,
Cat remembered) traced from the numbers to the graph below and
then back again.  Curious now, Cat cleared her throat and
asked her question again, louder this time.

Sea green eyes looked from the screen to her.  "Just looking
at Bob's raw data on the successes and failures during the
cultured cell tests.  There is something there we really don't
understand," she mumbled to herself.

"Why?" Cat asked sharply enough to keep Mandy from drifting
away again.  "What is it that you don't understand?  Maybe if
you can simplify the problem enough for me to understand, it
might help you."

Mandy sighed and pushed herself back from the desk.  She
reached up and took Cat's snifter and took a taste.  It was
much too strong for her newly virgin palette and she broke
into a paroxysm of coughing.  "Smooth," she choked out as Cat
chuckled at her friend.  

Regaining her composure, Mandy pointed again to the screen,
this time to the complex equations at the top of the screen. 
"These are the basic models Bob developed to predict the male
to female transition genetic interactions, and these," her
fingers moved to a similar set of equally incomprehensible
equations, "are the same thing, only for the female to male
transition.  Using these equations and a human subject's
starting genome signature, we can develop a simulation of what
should happen to that person if we were to attempt the change. 
If we run that simulation using a Monte Carlo routine, using
the GPD as the base input, while constraining it only by what
we know are fatal, non-viable gene sets, we can predict how
often the transitions should be successful.  We can also
figure out what made the unsuccessful ones fail.  Okay so
far?" she asked Cat.

Cat nodded slowly, and Mandy continued.  "Well, without
intervention, that is, without first changing certain specific
genes to avoid known non-viable gene sets, Bob's model
predicts about a 70% viability rate and no male/female gender
based variation in the success rate.  When he intervenes to
change non-viable combinations before transition, or when he
uses gene sets that do not have some critically lethal genetic
codings, his predicted success rate is effectively one hundred
percent and still no gender related variation."

Then she sighed and pointed to the tabulated numbers.  "Only
when he ran the tests on cultures containing live human cells,
the numbers were far short of that and also showed a sharp
variation in survivability based on gender.  25% of the guys
made it to being living girl cells, and about 60% of girl
cells made it safely going back the other way.   But that
wasn't the only nasty surprise.  It seems that a transformed
person who was orginally male is some how intrinsically
different, at least from a "retransformation" point of view,
than someone who was born female.  That was totally unexpected
and the reason I am going to be Mandy for the rest of my life. 
Simply stated, we found out you can't go home again. 
Surviving male to female transitions always failed reversing
the transition."

"What about female to male transitions?"

"Oddly enough, they seem to survive at about the same rate, if
a little lower, than the born males undergoing initial
transition to female."

"And you have no idea why?" Cat asked.  "Sure sounds sex
linked to me, at least the way I understand sex linked
characteristics from my school days.  Something missing on a
guy's puny little Y chromosome?"

"Yes, to us, too, but the numbers are wrong for it to be a
gene site on the X chromosome.  If it was a guy, with one X
chromosome, a gene would be either good or bad - so it should
be 50% success rate.  Women with two X chromosomes would have
a better chance, 50/50 on each X, so the net success rate
should be about 75%.  In both cases, the predicted numbers are
too high to allow for the possibility of experimental error
being at fault.  Besides, we have already accounted for
effects like that in the equations."

Cat puzzled over that.  "Even for something as outside the
ordinary as a sex change?  Do you really know the genetic code
that well?"

A gamine grin lit her friend's face.  "Got me there, Big Cat. 
No one tested for sex changing during the development of the
GPD because no one thought it would be possible to control so
many variables.  Even if they could have thought of a way to
test them for that."

"Okay.  So assume you don't know how the genes would react to
that.  What else could it be?"

A frown clouded Mandy's face.  "I don't know, Cat.  My
understanding is that, for the most part, genes work singly. 
Or at least in some understandable combination.  Eye and hair
color for example aren't quite that simple, but most
genetically defined characteristics are.  In fact, that is how
we define them - a genetic effect is tied to a gene site on
some chromosome.  But then again, my specialty is computers,
not biology."

"We define things that we understand, Mandy.  I don't think
anyone really understands what happened to you.  Not fully,
anyway."  Mandy started to speak and then reeled drunkenly. 
"Oops," Cat said.  "Enough for one day.  You need to get some
rest so you can get beat up some more tomorrow." 

And she reached over and flicked off the computer.  When Mandy
started to protest, Cat held up one hand.  "Give me a hard
time on this, little girl, and I will get Bob to lock you out
of the computers *and then* I will give you a spanking."

"Oh, all right," she pouted before standing.  She started off
for the bedroom and then stopped abruptly.  "Ummmmm, Cat?"

"Yes, Mandy?"

"Can I have a rain check on the spanking?" and she turned
merry, sexy eyes on Cat.  "It sounds quite . . . interesting,"
and then she turned and sauntered into the bedroom before a
goggle-eyed Cat could muster the wit to reply.

~-----------~

Chapter 11: Inspiration from Perspiration

Mandy was determined.  Cat had to give her that, but just the
same, it was fairly obvious that muscle stiffness and pain
were slowing her down.  *Well,* she'd chuckled to herself,
*yesterday had been a fairly rough introduction to the martial
arts, even for someone whose body is supposedly as perfect as
human hands could make it.*  Cat had gone to the nurse on duty
and asked her to monitor more closely for anything resembling
muscle damaging distress, and then had switched the program to
one of low impact aerobics.

After ninety minutes of hard sweating activity, Cat had almost
been ready to call a halt.  She hadn't because, just as she'd
been about to order a break, Mandy had noticeably loosened up
and gone into the "zone".  Only she had not come out of it yet
- not after another ninety minutes of heavily aerobic
exercise.  Her eyes retained that distant look in them that
Cat had initially thought was an endorphin high.  

Now she was not so sure.

"Okay," she called out, jarring Mandy's attention to her with
the sharpness of the command.  "Just one more set and then we
start our cooldown."

Whatever reaction Cat had expected from that command, what she
got wasn't it.  Mandy just stopped and stared at Cat, her eyes
wide in shock.  "Just one more . . . " she said wonderingly. 
"What if . . . what if it *was* just one more?"

Mandy started to move toward the table where her datapad lay,
only to be stopped by Cat grabbing her arm.  "I said we were
going to cooldown, Mandy."

"But, I need to check something on the computer!" she wailed,
practically stamping her foot in frustration as she pulled
against the iron grip on her bicep.

"Since I want to sleep tonight, you will do a proper cooldown
so you don't go into rigor mortis.  I don't want to listen to
you groaning all night because your muscles are all locked up. 
Now, follow my lead and cooldown.  That datapad is not going
anywhere and neither are you until you finish this exercise
session properly."

As powerful as she was, Cat was stronger.  With a mutinous
look on her face, Mandy began to follow the exercise regimen
Cat set.  Then, the sheer pleasure of moving her new body took
her, and she began enjoying the freedom and exhilaration of
the dance-like exercises.  She was glowingly happy when Cat
finally called a stop.  "Now, you can go play with your toys,
dear," she said patronizingly, "if you can stand the smell of
yourself.  One thing is for sure, honey.  You do not glow, you
sweat!"

An impish grin answered Cat's jibe as Mandy headed for her
personal quarters.  "Yeah, ain't it great?" 

Once again, Cat's mouth went dry as she watched the sweat
slick body in the tight exercise sheath strut into Mandy's
bedroom.  Hunger curled in Cat's guts and her hands clawed
into fists that pressed her nails painfully into her palms. 
How in the name of all that was holy was she going to keep
herself from taking what Mandy did not realize she was
offering?

Chapter 12: Understanding

"Eureka!" Mandy shrieked, causing Cat to come off her couch
into a fighting stance.  "That has to be it!" She jumped up
and moved to the Nurse's station.  "Call Dr. Bob West.  I need
him.  Now!"

The voice was all woman, but the tone of command was one every
senior employee of BioCybernetics would recognize in an
instant as "the Boss".  Teri quickly swiped a finger across a
touchpad on her panel and spoke normally.  An immediate
response answered her call.

"The Doctor is on his way, Sir . . . errr, Ma'am," Teri
fumbled.

For the next four hours, Cat watched in amused tolerance as
the two scientists huddled around the small screen of Mandy's
computer display.  More than once, the interplay became loud
and heated.  Finally, Bob had stormed off.

Cat cocked a questioning eyebrow at Mandy who was visibly
trying to control her mirth.  "God, Cat, that is the most fun
I have had since I woke up.  I had forgotten how much I love
jerking his chain, and I think . . ." Mandy paused for a
moment considering her next words.  "I think, that Bob has a
hard time remembering that under all this pulchritude is the
same guy he has been banging heads with, intellectually
speaking, for more than two decades."  An insulted little
smirk twisted her features.  "Just because he gave me tits
doesn't mean my brain disappeared along with my penis."

Cat howled at Mandy's indignation.  "Welcome to 21st Century
Womanhood, luv.  An era of gender-based equal opportunity
under siege from a legal and regulatory based backlash against
some of the more extreme outcomes of the 20th and 21st Century
feminist movements.  Women have to prove themselves in the
workplace everyday, just like men.  You still think like the
chauvinistic hunter-gatherer of ages past and expect automatic
respect from your fellow male.  Only Bob sometimes forgets,
and reacts to that cute feminine skin you're wearing instead
of that shared masculine outlook."  She laughed again,
bringing a rueful smile to her charge's face.  "So, what did
you two geniuses decide?"

"Oh, that I just *can't* be right and that *he* is going to
*prove* that I can't possibly be correct."

That got Cat's attention.  "And why, pray-tell, can't you be
right?"

"Because the solution is so easy, all he had to do was play
with a couple of numbers to see what might be going on.  Only
problem is that it flies in the face of what we supposedly
know about genes.  It is still sex linked, Cat.  Only instead
of one gene on one chromosome, the effect derives from two
gene sites on either of two possible X chromosomes in the
female.  The reason survivability is so disparate between
males and females is that males have only one X chromosome, so
both sites have to be right for him to survive." 

Two days passed before either woman saw Robert again.  A very
rumpled, almost painfully fatigued Dr. West dragged himself
into the security apartment while Morag spotted for Mandy
during a resistance and free weight session under Cat's
watchful eye.  He said nothing, just moved to a nearby chair
and sat watching the exercise.

When Morag finally let Mandy stop, she noticed Bob for the
first time and strolled over to where he sat.  "Decided you
are going to talk to me again, old friend?" she asked with a
hint of laughter in her voice.

Fatigue circled eyes lifted to meet hers.  "It would appear
you are correct.  I have never seen anything like it before,
but then, we know that the folks who did the GPD never
considered genetically based gender transitions in their
studies."

With some difficulty, Mandy controlled the urge to gloat, and
settled down beside Bob and asked, "So, was it a dual gene
interaction?"

"Apparently.  Two gene sites on the X chromosome that the GPD
decided didn't have any discernable effect on modern homo
sapiens.  Who knows why - maybe they were leftovers from early
humanid evolution that have no current purpose - sort of like
the tailbone that no longer hooks to a tail.  Anyway, I ran a
sorting routine against the X chromosome since the effect was
so clearly sex linked.  I found ten unmapped sites that fit
that pattern you described, but equally importantly, had no
partnering site on the male Y chromosome.  That took twenty
minutes." 

Mandy's brows went up in disbelief.  Twenty minutes on a
state-of-the-art quantcha computer was like forever in real
time - the equivalent of almost the same number of years of
computing on an old twentieth century super computer. 

He continued.  "I spent the next 24 hours doing clinical
clonal studies to try and isolate the correct site, and the
last 24 hours confirming my results.  I can now show, at least
to my own satisfaction, that two gene sites, both sites
previously listed in the GPD as having no identifiable genetic
effect, interact during a gender change and determine whether
the subject will survive or not.  It also explains why a
subject that succeeded going from male to female invariable
dies going back.  The successful gene set that permits a new
female to survive is the one that assures the reverse
transformation is nonviable."

By now, Cat was seated with them.  "I hope the hell you two
know what you are talking about, because I am lost."

Mandy smiled at her friend.  "It is just like I explained
earlier, Cat.  Our experience is that genes normally operate
independently, but in this case they don't.  In the case of
changing sex, going from male to female, the process
replicates the missing genes on the smaller Y chromosome by
duplicating the genes on the existing X for those genes that
don't do anything, only "fixing" those that result in an
undesirable recessive like color blindness.  Okay so far?"

"Yeah, basic biology."

"Okay, what he is saying that two gene sites on the X
chromosome determine whether a gender change, under our
process, lives or dies.  For the sake of argument, call them
gene A and gene B.  Each gene has two possible types, call
them A1 and A2, B1 and B2."  By now, Cat was sketching on
paper to get a visual idea of what Mandy was saying.  "For a
successful male to female transition, there is only one viable
gene set because there is only one X chromosome in a male. 
The only A gene must be A1 and the only available B gene must
be B1, and that only happens 25 percent of the time.  On the
other hand, there are two A sites and two B sites in a female
XX pair.  Therefore, if at least one of the A's is A2, and one
of the B's is B2, the female to male transition is viable. 
That has a probability of 56.25 percent.  Okay?"

Cat wrote and sketched furiously for a moment.  Mandy realized
she was writing down all the possible combinations of genes at
the A and B sites and hand calculating the probabilities. 
Finally, she nodded.  "Okay, but what did Bob mean when he
said that the successful male to female was assured to be non-
viable?"

Mandy grimaced, and Bob sighed resignedly.  He took up the
explanation.  "That, I am afraid, is our fault in the way we
generated the second X chromosome.  The transition process
ignored any unidentified GPD gene sites during transition and
merely replicated those X sites existing on the one X
chromosome the male possess.  To survive the transition,
therefore,  the male's X chromosome must be A1B1, so both of
the new woman's X chromosomes are also A1B1.  Therefore she
lacks the A2 and B2 gene combination required for a viable
female to male transition."

"Shit," Cat muttered in disbelief.  "Can you fix it?  I mean,
you change genes everyday when you are healing things."

Dr. West shook his head slowly.  "We don't know, Cat. 
Changing one gene on one chromosome when we know what that
gene does is one thing.  We don't have any experience fumbling
with interacting highly close-coupled pairs of genes.  Hell, I
can't even simulate the effects because I don't know what will
happen.  I simply don't know what those damned genes really
do.  Besides messing up gender changes, that is.  No, the only
way we will learn anything worth knowing is to do real
experiments the old fashioned way and play with a lot of
clonal cultures."

Cat took one look at her old friend, who had, against his
will, been turned into everything she desired in a lover.  Her
heart twisted and then she turned steel hard eyes on Robert. 
"Well, when did you start them, and how long before you know
anything?"

Shock, then anger lit the normally placid face of the older
man.  His mouth opened and shut several times in rapid
succession as he bit back one retort after another.  Then, he
stood abruptly, turned on heel, and stormed out of the
apartment past an amazed Teri Richards.

Chapter 13: A Woman's Nature

"Damn you, Robert!  When I can get out of this bed without the
world spinning and my guts threatening to turn inside out on
the rug, I am going to KILL you!" Mandy half moaned, half
growled.

"Come on, Matthew," Robert retorted.  "You knew this was going
to happen and you know it is not fatal.  Hell, if you'd just
quit complaining long enough to take a quick mental inventory,
I'd bet that the medication I just administered has already
taken effect.  Now, quit your bitching.  You're upsetting Cat,
and the way she is looking at me is making me very uneasy."

"You should be," the chief of security snarled.  "She's ill
and you're showing all the bedside manner of doornail.  Maybe
I should help you join her in her misery," she said, making a
move toward the quickly retreating doctor.

"Cat, stop," Mandy ordered and then sighed.  "He's right.  He
told me to expect this and the stuff he gave me has taken the
edge off the worst of it."

"Told you to expect it?!?" Cat roared, turning on Mandy. 
"Told you to expect what?"

"Menses," Mandy said in a barely audible voice.

Brought up short, Cat's mouth hung momentarily open as she
stared at her charge.  "What . . . did you say?" she asked,
her throat already starting to constrict.

"You heard me well enough," Mandy fumed before yelling out,
"Menses, dammit!  My period.  On the rag!  Is *that* plain
enough for you, Donovan?!?!"

Turning and trying to hold in the laughter, Cat first nodded. 
"I see.  Well, -kaff kaff- that would be. . ahem . . . just a
little bit . . . well . . . "

"Do you want to die quickly now or really slow later,
Donovan?" Mandy asked trying to sound severe, although Robert
could see that the combination of the medication and Matthew's
sense of humor were making that difficult.

Cat lost it.  In moments, she was on the bed beside Mandy,
howling with laughter.  Her infectious guffaws, soon had
Robert joining in.  They only managed to calm down when
McPherson came running into the room, to see what was the
matter. 

"Don't worry, Morrie," Mandy said with as dignified a look as
she could manage under the circumstances.  "You had to be here
to understand."  She'd almost told Morag the whole truth, but
only at the last minute had recalled that the girl was not yet
cleared for the whole truth.

With an uncertain glance around the room, McPherson nodded and
went back to her station.  

"Well, if you two are through having a giggle-fest at my
expense, I am now hungry.  Anything I should avoid eating that
might react badly with whatever you just shot me up with,
Bob?"

"Nothing you aren't already not imbibing, Matthew,"  Robert
said, still grinning at her as he collected his instruments. 
"Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to the lab. 
Some of our earliest culture tests are close to making the
critical transition."    

"The 'change me back to me' experiments, Bob?" Mandy asked. 
At his nod, she continued, "Just a couple of things first,
Bob?"

"Okay, Matt, shoot."

"That's the first one.  As long as I am stuck like this, you
should get used to calling me Mandy.  Morag isn't yet cleared
for what has happened to me, and calling me Matt is bad for
security."

Robert looked at Cat who nodded her agreement with that. 
Robert returned that before answering, "Good point, Mat . . .
I mean, Mandy.  And the other thing?"

"Just as soon as you have this transition thing licked, watch
your ass, friend.  You and Adam may find yourselves on the rag
sooner than you might think, my friend."  At Robert's stunned
look, Mandy howled.  "Don't you think Bobbi would be really
cute as a pixie blond with a button nose, a tiny voice and big
boobs, Cat?  And wouldn't Adam make a great Eve?"

"Matthew . . . I mean Mandy . . . I don't think . . . that is,
I mean, well . . . " Robert coughed and pressed on.  "I don't
think the process will ever be *that* safe that we can just
play with it.  At least, not in our lifetime.  The transition
puts a helluva strain on the transformee at the cellular
level, even if we can otherwise do it safely from the genetic
level."

Mandy smiled mischievously.  "Just teasing, old friend. 
Although, I would like to see you rejuvenated and young again. 
If that means making you a girl so that I can have you around
for another fifty or sixty years, then that seems to be a
small price from my side of this friendship."

The warmth in that last statement touched Robert, and he felt
a liquid heat prickle at his eyelids.  "I have to go . . .  I
*really* have to go.  I'll see you both later."  He then all
but ran from the room.

Cat and Mandy sat on the bed for a long while after that, each
of them surreptitiously enjoying the close contact with the
other's body.  Mandy finally sighed and stretched.  "I *am*
hungry."

"Okay.  Feel up to working out first?" Cat asked.  "MacPherson
will be disappointed if she misses out on a chance to get her
hands on you again."

"Fine.  A little tightness still in my lower guts and a
feeling of something strange going on down there, but the
cramps and the nausea are gone," Mandy replied before becoming
very quiet.  "Cat?  I think we need to bring Morag in on the
full story.  She very nearly stumbled onto it just now, thanks
to Bob calling me by my old name.  Besides, I think it would
be better all around if she was fully briefed on what was
really going on in this asylum and not speculating.  Can you
trust her?"

"I already do, Mandy.  She wouldn't have been allowed to get
anywhere near this close to you if I had the slightest doubt
about her.  I'll brief her today."

"After our workout.  I want to try and take her down today,
and I don't want her easing up on me because she is afraid of
the boss."

Cat snorted.  "Sure, whatever you say, Boss.  Not that you are
likely to throw MacPherson in this lifetime."

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure, pigeon.  What're your stakes?"

"Winner's choice."

"Within reason."  The professional security officer cautioned,
"Nothing that endangers your safety, Mandy."

"Well, since you just told me I can't possibly win, that won't
be a problem, will it?  But okay, I will agree.  Winner's
choice subject to your professional judgement on my personal
safety and well being."

"I'm going to just *love* that foot massage and pedicure,
sweetie," Cat purred.  "And you are going to look just *so*
cute sitting on the floor at my feet when you're doing it."

"Sounds like fun," Mandy countered.  "Maybe I will even do it
*after* I win."

~--------------~

The drill and exercise session had gone well, Cat mused two
hours later.  The incredible, nearly-biologically perfect body
that Mandy had been gifted with was already in excellent shape
and still seemed only to be getting stronger with each passing
day.  Her coordination had improved immeasurably in the short
weeks they'd been working out together.

"Okay, you two.  Time to see just how far Miss Priss over
there has come.  MacPherson?  No holding back on this little
exercise.  First person to throw the other wins."

"Eh . . . chief," Morag countered, "are ye sure ye want tae
play that rough?  Mandy's improved daily, but she's still
naught but a wee beginner."

"Aw, c'mon, Morrie.  Toss me on my butt and it's all over.  It
is not like you're going to try to punch my lights out or kick
my teeth down my throat . . ."

"Now, Miss Mandy . . . "

Mandy gave the security officer a firm push.  "I *told* you to
call me Mandy, MacPherson," she said with another poke and a
push for emphasis.  A spark of Celtic-warrior anger sparked in
her opponent's eyes so Mandy did it yet again.

"Now, Mandy . . . " she warned, her brogue getting thicker
only to be cut off by yet another push which this time she
returned.  "Awright, then.  If that's the way ye wanna play
it, lassie," she growled and went into her attack stance.

Cat almost warned Morag to watch herself but a glance at Mandy
stopped her.  The look on her friend's face was pure Matthew
at his most controlled.  *The devious old bastard has
intentionally pissed MacPherson off.  Well, she's made her
bed, now she's going to get tossed onto it.  The hard way. 
Just as well, I guess.  She needs to learn she can't do that
and get away with crap like that anymore.  Not like she did
when she was Matthew.*

The battle actually lasted far longer than Cat or Morag had
anticipated.  Mandy's strength and quickness surprised both
professionals, and she seemed to sense MacPherson's point of
attack and was able to move just out of the way of each
technique her opponent set up.  Most of which, Cat was
relieved to note, were fairly gentle ones that would, at
worst, give Mandy a bruised bottom when she finally bounced
off the mat.

Except *that* never happened.

Suddenly, Mandy moved with a speed that stunned MacPherson and
amazed Cat.  One instant MacPherson was reaching in for a
throwing grip on Mandy's sweatsuit, and then Mandy was beneath
Morag, locking the extended arm and leg into a picture perfect
fireman's carry that took the Scotswoman straight onto her
back.

"Two points - takedown!" Mandy crowed from atop the speechless
Morag, before jumping to her feet and offering her hand.  "I
win!"

"That wasna a martial arts maneuver," Morag protested.

"No one said anything about martial arts.  Cat just said the
first throw wins, and *I* won!"

The scowl that went across Morag's strong features was quickly
replaced with a self deprecating and sheepish grin.  "And so
she did," she admitted before adding, "but dinna be thinkin'
ye'll be gettin' away with such tricks next time, lassie."

"Ah, Morrie, you're wonderful, you know that?" Mandy gushed as
she pulled the shocked woman into a hug.  "I *really* like
having you around.  Now, I'm for a shower."  

With a victorious smile, she turned towards the door where Cat
stood, arms folded beneath her bosom, a speculative look on
her face.  "See you at lunch, Cat.  You, too, Morag," Mandy
said aloud before adding quietly as she passed her friend. 
"Foot massage and a pedicure, huh?  See you after dinner, too,
Big Cat."

To the utter amazement of MacPherson, Cat Donovan began to
howl with laughter for the second time that day.  She finally
managed to control herself and saw the look her subordinate
was giving her.  Remembering her promise to Mandy, she
beckoned Morag over to her side.  "C'mon, MacPherson.  You and
I need to talk."

Chapter 14: Mandy Makes her Escape

The odd combination of a very feminine pout on the very same
face that was trying to twist into a grimace of purely
masculine frustration had Cat choking back a laugh.  Mandy was
definitely not in the mood to enjoy that particular joke at
that particular moment in time, especially since she was the
punch line.  Matt had always taken himself just a little too
seriously, in Cat's view anyway, and now Mandy was showing the
same lamentable inclinations.

*Well, it is time for that to come to screeching halt,* Cat
thought gleefully to herself.  *Time to shake little Miss
Dimple-Cheeks out of her doldrums.*

Nonchalantly, Cat strolled over to where the quietly stewing
Mandy was sitting, whereupon she vigorously tousled the
younger woman's hair.  "HEY!" Mandy yelled as the heavy mass
of auburn locks ended up covering her face.  "What the hell do
you think you're doing, Donovan?" she snarled as she came up
out of her seat.

Cat was too quick and too strong for Mandy, even with her
greatly improved physical conditioning, and almost instantly
had Mandy face down on the floor.  Pleased with the potential
inherent in their situation, Cat quickly settled herself down
on top of the floundering Mandy, a wide smile on her face.

"GET YOUR FAT ASS OFF ME, Donovan!" Mandy bellowed.

"Aw, now why'd you have to go and say something mean like
that, Mandy?" Cat asked with a mock catch in her voice.  "You
want to hurt my feelings or something?"

"DON - O - VAN!!"

Cat shifted her weight and then used her legs to get a
grapevine tie on Mandy's own, effectively restraining the
smaller woman to the floor.  "Well, I am not going to take
that kind of treatment from you, Sorenson," Cat growled in
Mandy's ear.  "Guess we'll see just how sensitive that new and
improved skin of yours REALLY is."

"And just how do you think you're going to . . . "  Mandy's
indignant query was cut off by a sudden burbling giggle. 
"Stop that, Cat!" she ordered, her voice suddenly rasping. 
"DAMMIT, Cat, that tickles!"

"Good!" Cat replied as she dug the knowing fingers of one hand
into Mandy's ribs and underarms, while the other sought for
volatile targets of opportunity in other regions of Mandy's
body.  

Mandy's new womanly body turned out to be just as sensitive as
Robert had promised it would be.  In mere moments, Mandy was
helplessly howling with wild laughter even as she continued
her hopeless struggle for freedom.

Morag and Teri came rushing into Mandy's room just in time to
hear her gasp out, "Cat, PLEEEAASE stop.  I am going to PEEEE
my pants if you don't . . . "

"Good!" Cat snapped back again.  Weeks of frustrated longing
turned into something just a bit sadistic now that Cat
*finally* had her hands on Mandy.  A wicked grin formed on her
face as she slipped her fingers down Mandy's madly quaking
body, seeking out those places that might just accelerate such
an event.  "Damn you Mandy, but it might do you some good if
you DID wet yourself, you control-freak little tart.  Might
make you just a little easier on yourself to know you could
lose control like a real person now and then."

Amused, Morag looked over to Teri who, now that her immediate
fears had been allayed, was trying and failing to keep from
giggling herself.  In short order, Morag joined Teri and both
were laughing lustily together.

Eventually, the sound of new voices raised in laughter broke
through Cat's awareness; the distraction clearing her lust-
driven berserker rage.  Slowly, and with great deliberation,
she stopped her teasing and slipped her body from atop Mandy.  

For her own part, Mandy could not catch her breath.  The
combination of carrying Cat's weight on her rib cage while
being tickled to near insanity had left her oxygen starved. 
It was all she could do just to lay on the floor gasping for
air.

Cat was starting to worry she'd gone to far when Teri matter
of factly helped her patient to her feet.  "Calm down and
breathe slowly, Mandy.  You'll be fine," she said with a
nurse's certainty.

"Why didn't you two help me?" Mandy asked, making the question
an accusation.  

"Why?" Teri asked bluntly.  "You don't laugh enough, and other
than your workouts with Morag when the two of you try to just
barely avoid killing each other, you don't play enough,
either."

"Ya dinna think I am gonna take on the Donovan when all she's
doin' is havin' a bit of fun wi' ye, now do ye, lass?  Do ya
think I've got me a death wish?" Morag added, her lilting
brogue heavier than usual as she fought to control the
laughter that still fought to escape.

"Playing!" Mandy was almost shrieking.  "Fun?  Is that what
you call it???"

Cat was beginning to feel like a heel.  She had not meant for
her game to go that far and really upset Mandy.  *But dammit,
what else could have happened, particularly with Mandy's tight
little butt squirming against me like that?  You fucked up
this time, Donovan - big time.* 

Cat began to work at formulating an apology when Teri
responded, "Of course it was fun and play, silly."

"But . . . but . . . but . . . " Mandy sputtered, trying to
find a response to that, but again, Teri had the answer.

"Mandy, you're young again, and female to boot.  You don't
have to wear that cloak of stodgy male dignity all the time
like you did before . . . before you changed.  It's all right
to let your hair down and laugh, even if it might be at
yourself sometimes.  All right, so maybe you're a little
embarrassed just now, but so what?  Aren't you among friends? 
Can't you laugh with us on this?"

Mandy went very quiet as she considered her nurse's words.  In
truth, she *had* enjoyed the tussle right up until the point
where she had begun to lose control of her body, only it
hadn't *really* been her bladder she'd been worried about. 
The feel of Cat's big, powerful body covering hers, the touch
of Cat's strong, active hands all over her body had brought
Mandy to the brink of orgasm.  *THAT* had been what had been
bothering her, and THAT, she realized, was pretty silly. 
Wasn't that what she'd been dreaming about in her lonely bed
ever since Cat had come to act as her bodyguard?

Ruefully, she turned a sheepish look at Cat and was surprised
to see the normally assured woman looking . . . uncertain.
*Why, she's worried,* Mandy thought in wonder. *Worried about
what?  That she might have gone too far and that I might be
really upset with her?  Well, enough of that!*

Mandy walked over to Cat, looked at her, and then caught her
up in a tight hug.  A cold lump that had been growing in Cat's
gut melted instantly in the fiery heat of that embrace.  Only
a strong exertion of will kept Cat from sweeping her "dream
girl" off her feet and carrying her off to her bed.

"Oh . . . Cat?" Mandy said sweetly.

Too sweetly, a suddenly wary Cat thought.  "Yes, Mandy?" she
asked carefully.

"Teri was right.  That was fun.  So much fun that," and
suddenly, Mandy's grip and weight shifted.  "That *I* want to
share it."

Before Cat's lust-dulled wits could recover, Mandy had *HER*
down on the floor and was returning the tickling favor.  Cat
tried not to resist too much, delighted with the game, but all
too quickly, Mandy was driving her crazy, and Cat began to
buck.  "Hey, you two, c'mon and help me.  She's too damned
strong and she'll get off MUCH too easy if she breaks loose
now."

Bemused at the request, the other two looked on for a few more
seconds before Morag growled, "Oh, what the hell . . . "

Cat found herself the target of three pairs of very clever
hands and *did* go momentarily out of her mind under their
relentless, mischievous onslaught.  It was several infinitely
long minutes before the laugh-ravaged Cat Donovan was able to
free herself from her giggling tormentors and regain her
equilibrium.

~------------~

"Why do I have to stay in here, Cat?" Mandy asked later after
things had once again settled.  "I mean, I refuse to be a
prisoner for the rest of my life.  Besides, its not as if I am
well known.  Heck, less than twenty people even know who I am,
or rather, who I was."

"Twenty people that we know of, Mandy," Cat corrected firmly. 
"There are people out there who know of your transition -
people who had a major role in manipulating you into that
transition."

"Dammit, Cat, I am bored, okay?  I want to go out and be a
person for a few hours."

"I can't protect you out in the open, Mandy.  You'll just have
to . . . "

"Goddamn it, Cat, I am NOT going to be a prisoner in my own
house for the  rest of my unnatural life!" 

"But Mandy, we still don't know who attacked you.  They may
try again." 

"Yeah, and I may get hit by a chunk of falling space junk,
too.  Or  lightning," snarled Mandy, then her expression
changed to sadness that tore a ragged hole in Cat's heart. 
Mandy continued in a much softer tone, "Though I guess I don't
have to worry about lightning at that, if I just hide out here
in my cave."   

Cat sighed and asked, "What do you want to do?" 

"Oh, I don't know.  Just get out of here.  What do you do when
you're off duty?" 


Cat actually blushed, the first time Mandy (or Matt) had ever
seen such a  window of vulnerability.  The tall bodyguard
fought to regain her composure and finally said, "You wouldn't
want to go where I go.  It's a, um, special interest setting." 

"Sounds wonderful!" laughed Mandy as delighted with Cat's
reaction as with the idea of finally getting out of the high
security apartment.  "When can we go?" 

"Don't be silly.  I told you - *you* wouldn't like it at all." 

The part of Mandy that would always be Matt was showing in the
redhead's eyes at Cat's assumption that she couldn't make her
own decisions.  It was not a tender look.  'Silly', huh? 

"Cat, you've got two choices.  Either you help me in this, or
I'll go on my  own.  And do NOT even THINK of trying to stop
me." 

The sharpness in Mandy's tone sparked a reflexive sharpness in
Cat's eyes.  She was about to argue further, but the memory of
the sadness that had consumed Mandy such a short time before
held Cat back.  Was she really helping Mandy by forcing her
into the life of a prisoner? 

"All right," Cat said, "we'll go out.  But not to my club. 
Seriously, Mandy, that place wouldn't appeal to you anyway. 
We'll find some nice place for dinner." 

"That's not what I said," Mandy replied, soft-voiced but
implacable. 

"Huh?" Cat grunted.  "I agreed to let you go out." 

"Yes, you did," Mandy said. "You just patted me on the head
and said, 'Mommy  will take baby to the zoo, one of these
days.'  Well, that's not good enough.  We're going to go to
your club, and we're going to do whatever it takes to fit in
there." 

"But . . . " 

Mandy interrupted, "Enough, Cat.  It's decided.  You can bring
someone else along if you think it's necessary." 

Mandy stood there, staring up at the tall, powerful woman, but
there was no doubt whose hand held the true power between
them.  It had become a matter of authority, not a matter of
security alone, and Cat accepted that distinction, as she
always had.  "Very well, but the club I go to has a strict
dress code. 'Fetish or fashion.'  Frankly, I don't think
you're ready for that." 

"Then we will get me ready," Mandy declared.  "It's probably
time for me to  learn about women's fashions, anyway.  Teri
can help." 

~-----------~ 

Mandy took a deep breath, and walked out into the main room of
her apartment.  Teri followed her, almost running into the
shapely redhead from behind when Mandy froze at the doorway. 

Cat had chosen fetish. 

The tall woman had somehow poured herself into a shiny black
catsuit that hugged every curve with a lover's passion.  On a
lesser woman it would have been spectacular.  On Cat, it was
as though all the others had somehow reverted to childhood in
the presence of one, fully complete woman. 

The heels she wore seemed almost superfluous until she stepped
toward Mandy.  Then the special sway they imparted to her
stride started ripples playing over the shiny material that
would have had to be toned down by orders of magnitude to be
merely hypnotic. 

"God, Mandy, you are GORGEOUS!" Cat said. 

"Huh, what?" Mandy stammered.  She was so caught up in the way
CAT looked that she had forgotten her own appearance. 

Teri had talked her into a sleek, black silk dress that was
much too short, and much too body-conscious for Mandy's peace
of mind.  Her own heels were fairly low, especially in
comparison with Cat's, but they did lift her calves  into
graceful accents for the trim legs that she had worked so hard
to firm up.  As for her face, Mandy had learned makeup
techniques with the same concentration she applied to all
problems, and with the same success that had built her
fortune.  All in all, she was more than beautiful, and a part
of her knew it even as she was still trying to absorb Cat's
incredible appearance. 

When all those thoughts had had time to wander around in her
mind for a while - say, about a millisecond - Mandy blushed
and found herself ducking her head in sudden embarrassment. 
That motion started her dangling earrings to swaying,
reminding her once again of how much effort she had gone to in
order to look good that evening.  Apparently, her work had
paid off. 

"I'll second that," Morag said with a smile.  "Saints be
praised, boss, but ye do look awesome." 

Mandy felt another blush fire her cheeks, but she straightened
up and walked confidently over to her two bodyguards.  "You're
not bad yourself, Morag.  Green is definitely your color." 

She might as well have been speaking to the wall, though, for
as soon as she had cleared the way and Morag had laid eyes on
Teri, there was no one in the room for the Scots lass but the
blonde nurse.  Their surprise at each other's appearance made
it clear that there was no pre-arrangement, but both Morag and
Teri had chosen to wear silk dresses, going the fashion route
as had Mandy.  The styles were similar enough to be
compatible, yet distinct enough to make each woman worthy of
attention on her own.  Even the bright blue that Teri wore fit
well with the dark, shimmering green selected by Morag.

"Well," Cat finally broke the uneasy silence as the four women
stood about staring at one another.  "If we're going to do
this, let's get a move on.  Remember, we can leave anytime
you've had enough, Mandy."

The smile the gorgeous redhead wore did nothing to relieve
Cat's reservations while doing a very great deal to arouse her
libido.  It was going to be a very long night.

~-----------------~

Cat sat quietly, watching as club patrons merrily engaged in
their usual mad dance of socializing and seduction.  It was
easily far more interesting than her snifter of de-alcohol'ed
brandy.  As for Cat's little "debutante", well, Mandy had been
fascinated with the place from the moment they'd walked in the
door.  She'd also become the center of attention of every
unattached as well as almost every supposedly attached person
in the place.

Not that Mandy had noticed.

The Pas d'Ordinaire was a small alternative lifestyles club
located a few kilometers from the CyberBiotics compound.  The
place was jumping, filled to the rafters with the usual mix of
gays, straights, bi's, dominants, slaves, leather-folk,
rubber-lovers, lurking gawkers and a myriad of other types. 
And every damned one of them was hovering around Mandy like
hungry hyenas waiting for a lion to finish with its latest
kill.  *Well, at least that makes me the lion,* Cat thought as
she took another sip of the very inadequate brandy-substitute. 
*And I'm not even close to being finished.*

Actually, Mandy's response to Cat's fellow club members had
really been amusing.  She'd been chivalrously deferential to
the women who came to chat her up, and had happily tried to
male-bond with most of the men who had tried to hit on her. 
*She has absolutely no idea what is behind all this attention. 
She doesn't see the men as potential partners because they are
men.  Hell, she's still trying to relate to them as if *she*
was still a man.  As for the women, I don't think old Matthew
was ever very successful in the dating game . . . too much of
a lab-rat.  He, or rather she, *likes* women, but she doesn't
realize that these women like *her* or that they would like
her to do a helluva lot more with and to them than just like
them.*

It had been like that all night.  With two exceptions, Mandy
had happily chattered away with whoever had come over to their
table begging an introduction, but that's as far as it had
gone.  The two exceptions, at least the first one, had been
more than enough for Cat's peace of mind.

The first incident had involved a long-time friend of Cat's by
the name of Cheryl.  Cheryl, or Mistress Cherisse when she was
working or playing, was a lovely, highly respected
professional and lifestyle domina.  She hadn't been working or
playing when she'd dropped by to say hello, but that didn't
mean she wasn't prepared to take full advantage of any play
opportunity that might arise during the course of the evening.

The well curved blonde had arrived in full "battle armor" in
happy anticipation of renewing the battle of the sexes.  The
soft syn-leather catsuit was a sparkling electric blue that
matched Cheryl's own intensely blue eyes.  If the outfit had
been spray-painted on her, it could not have been any more
figure-hugging. Except for her neck and face, every inch of
Cheryl from the tips of her fingers to her toes had been
smooth, blue and dangerously sexy.  Far more sexy, to Cat's
way of thinking, than if the suit's designer had left Cheryl's
butt or breasts hanging out. *Too bad we are both tops,* Cat
had thought wistfully, and not for the first time.

For her part, Mandy had been absolutely enthralled with Cat's
friend, and most especially with Cheryl's outfit.  Her oddly
breathy, "Is that *real* leather?" and her almost impatient,
"*Where* did you get it?" had drawn amused chuckles from
Cheryl.  Delighted with Mandy, and even more delighted to see
her longtime friend Cat so obviously smitten, Cheryl had
easily responded to Mandy's requests for information. 

"I like your friend," Mandy had said to Cat when Cheryl had
slipped away to continue her evening's hunt.

"I do, too," Cat had replied.  *Especially since she's a good
enough friend not to poach.*  That thought brought Cat up
short.  *Wait-a-minute, Donovan.  How the hell could she poach
on someone who isn't claimed?*

Except that something deep inside Cat's soul had screamed in
denial at that thought.  "THE HELL SHE'S UNCLAIMED!" that
inner voice had bellowed, "SHE'S MINE AND SHE'S GOING TO
*STAY* MINE!"

Cat had still been struggling with this new and very
uncomfortable revelation when they'd had to deal with the
second exception arrived at their table.  One of the few bores
in the club, a male pseudo top who called himself "Lord Tyr"
after the Norse God of War, came over to hit on Mandy.  The
damned fool had been too drunk to take no for an answer. 
Which only made him more of a fool because he'd been too
incapacitated to recognize just how dangerous a mood the Big
Cat was in at that moment.

"Hey, babe?  Why don't you take a turn about the dance floor
with me?" he'd asked with the assurance of the drunk.  "I'll
show you things you've never seen . . . " and his voice had
dropped in a low rasp, "or *felt* before."

Cat had started to get pissed.  Unlike Cheryl, Tyr wasn't
teasing - he was actually trying to pick Mandy up!  That kind
of poaching was frowned upon in the club.  Mandy had clearly
been with Cat all evening and that idiot was trying a direct,
unsubtle come-on right there with Cat seated next to Mandy.  

"I don't think so," Mandy had replied coolly.  "As that very
old song goes, I dance with the one what brung me.  Why don't
you go somewhere else.  Better yet, why don't you take an air-
cab home and sober up."

The tinge of pure masculine disdain in Mandy's purely feminine
voice had been lost on Tyr.  All he'd heard was the firmly
delivered setdown and he'd been unable to deal with it. 
"You'll dance with Tyr when Tyr wants to dance with you,
slave!" he'd bellowed, causing the all conversation in the
immediate vicinity to stop.  Then, he'd grabbed Mandy by the
wrist, trying to drag her onto the dance floor.

Only Mandy had not wanted to go, and did something about it. 
What followed didn't qualify as even a minor scuffle, because
it ended before anyone else in the room realized it had
started.  All the nearby patrons saw was a stunned Tyr on the
floor staring up at an infuriated Mandy.  *I taught that girl
well,* she thought with a dark, but satisfied smile.  Still,
that ending had been somewhat disappointing, Cat reflected as
she sipped again at her drink.  Cat herself had been a nano-
instant away from dealing with the fat bastard herself only
*she* wouldn't have left him conscious, or quite that . . .
unbroken. Unfortunately, Mandy had done him first and then the
club bouncer had tossed the still fuzzy headed would-be suitor
out of the club before Cat could come up with an excuse to
continue the "fight". 

The incident would probably cost Tyr his membership in the
club which was just fine with Cat.  What wasn't fine was that
Mandy's Aikido technique had worked, in part at least, because
the fool had been drunk.  In Cat's professional judgement, the
problem with most Aikido techniques was that they were too
gentle.  Mandy'd have needed something a good deal more
disabling than that slip-and-toss move against a less impaired
opponent.  *Gonna have to teach that girl a few more of the
really painful techniques if she's gonna insist on being out
in the real world again.  Something that will let her take the
bad guy out of the game hard enough and long enough to get the
hell out of Dodge.  Girl has to learn that when you are the
small dog, or more correctly, the small bitch in the fight,
fighting 'fair' can get you hurt.*

"Isn't it great about those two?" Mandy asked suddenly, her
words coming as a surprise to the other woman since Cat was
still struggling to deal with the stress of being denied the
opportunity to choke the life out that bastard. 

And with her possessiveness of Mandy.

"Huh?  Who?  What do you mean?" Cat asked, confused.  She
followed Mandy's pointed look to the dance floor where Morag
and Teri were dancing. 

The two of them had been doing the "teenage girls on their
first group date" thing the whole damned night.  They'd shared
war stories about past dates and boyfriends, and giggled like
loons.  They'd embarrassed their young waiter nearly to tears
with their pointed observations and just slightly short-of-
lewd 'compliments' on his nice, tight butt.  They'd gone off
to the ladies room together and had come back wearing each
other's shade of lipstick and eyeshadow, and they'd danced,
like they were doing now.  Not really dancing together, mind
you, but not with anyone else either, and close enough
together that they could keep chattering even over the din
caused by the sorry excuse for a band that was playing
tonight.

Like teenage girls on their first group date, and yet . . .
not quite.  But they were a lot closer together now than they
had been the first time they'd gone out to dance, but they'd
dragged Mandy along that time and the band hadn't been quite
this loud - had it?

Cat had been ready to tear into both of them when they'd
dumped Mandy back at the table and had run off again.  They'd
been off somewhere for almost twenty minutes and that had sure
as hell not been why Cat had brought them.  And she would have
torn each of them a new anterior orifice had Mandy not stopped
her.

"Dammit," Cat had fumed, "they are supposed to be watching out
for you, not playing sticky-finger in the women's john!"

"As if Morag would, and even if they were, so what?  They're
both big girls," Mandy had snorted in response.  "Look, Cat, I
am safe as long as I am with you and everyone here seems so
nice.  Let them have their fun."

That had surprised Cat.  "You don't mind?  I mean, them both
being, well . . . "

Mandy had given Cat a long, level look that reminded Cat of
the man behind those gorgeous eyes.  "Have I ever given you
the impression that two people really loving each other
bothers me?  If so, then I apologize for giving you that
misconception.  Just to set the record straight, Catherine,
it's loneliness and living without any love at all that
bothers me.  If those two end up falling in love - really in
love - all you'll hear from me is cheers.  Slightly envious
cheers, but cheers nonetheless."

An uncomfortable silence had followed as Cat had considered
Mandy's statement.  Mandy must have been thinking hard, too,
because Cat recognized her body - it was Matt Sorenson
puzzling over a sticky problem.  Was Mandy telling Cat that
she might welcome Cat as a lover?  Weren't the two of them
also dancing around that issue, much as Morag and Teri were?

*Well,* Cat thought as she brought her mind back to the
present, *at least Morag's potential-soon-to-be-lover is
already cleared for Project Mandy.  That will simplify the
security checks required once MacPherson gets Teri into bed -
or vice versa.*

"Cat?"  Mandy's voice called Cat back from her envious
reflections about Morag's apparent good fortune.  She looked
at Mandy who was starting to stand up. "I need to go to the
little boys' . . . I mean, the little girls' room.  I'll be
right back."  Cat started to rise, but found herself gently
pushed back down.  "I am a big girl, and I can go to the
bathroom by myself, momma.  You just sit here and relax.  Have
another drink."

Cat wanted to protest, but *that* look crossed Mandy's
features again and reluctantly, Cat relented. *Hell, the place
is pretty well settled and paired up already.  She'll be fine,
Donovan!* More than fine she mused, as she watched Mandy's
trim butt swaying seductively in the short, slinky black silk
dress as she slipped into the milling crowd. The very
interesting motion of those twin moons was nicely enhanced by
Mandy's still uncertain gait in the relatively low heeled
shoes Nurse Richardson had pressed on her along with that
killer dress.  

*Teri did a great job dressing her for tonight's outing,* Cat
thought with pure feminine appreciation. *Glad I thought to
tell them the place has a dress code.  Wasn't even a lie,
either.  Fetish or fashion,* Cat smiled and toasted her boss'
retreating figure with her snifter.  *Too bad Miss Mandy
wasn't quite ready for latex and six inch heels, though. 
She's even wearing make up, just like a real grown up woman,
and those long, glittering earrings make me want to grab hold
and use 'em as handles while I kiss her senseless.*  Cat took
another, healthy gulp of her drink, hoping the artificial burn
of the synthesol would help cool her growing need . . . at
least back down to manageable levels.

*Maybe I'll take a page from MacPherson's book and take Mandy
out for a turn around the dance floor when she gets back,* Cat
decided. *Have to make sure to bribe the band to play only
fast dancing music, though.  I have a LOT of nervous energy to
burn off.*

~--------------~

Mandy had also been thinking quite deeply about fashion and
the female form.  Particularly fashions on *Cat's* very female
form.  Which had been a large part of the reason she'd wanted
to go to the ladies room alone - so she could get those little
fantasies under control and cool off a bit - before she jumped
Cat's bones right there and then. 

*Lord only knows what would happen if I got her alone in the
powder room.  That slinky black one-piece-whatever-the-hell-
that-is she's almost wearing - oh, man, what a woman.  So tall
and elegant, a sleek black panther that I wouldn't mind have
chasing me.  Sure as hell wouldn't run very far or very fast
before one of us caught the other, that's for damned sure. 
And she needs a couple of those synthetic leather things - one
in black and one in red.  Wonder if they can size it from a
holo-pic or if they'd need her to stand still for a fitting?*

Mandy had been happily daydreaming of how someone might go
about getting six feet of woman *out* of one of those catsuits
when a pair of hands snaked out of the shadows to grab her.  A
leather gloved hand moved up to her mouth to cut off her
scream.

"Get me tossed out of here, will you, bitch?  Turn down Lord
Tyr when he offers you the honor of his attentions?  You need
some training, girl, and I am just the man to give it to you." 
The words were slurred, in a pseudo-whisper that still barely
carried in the noisy club, and the breath was fetid with the
stench of too much whiskey.  "And then, you are going to
reward me for my efforts on your behalf with what's between
those sexy legs of yours."

~----------~

Something tickled at the back of Cat's mind and she glanced
back toward the ladies room.  She hadn't expected Mandy to
take so long in the powder room.  Certainly, Mandy had not yet
fully mastered the fine art of cosmetic application so it
wasn't too surprising that she might need longer than other
women, but something felt wrong.  Cat had stayed alive more
than once because of such feelings and knew better than to
ignore them.  She wished she could see the door to the ladies
room, but there were just too many people between her and the
door.  Cursing, Cat stood and started off the bathroom.  *If
she rags on me for this, I will just tell her that I had one
too many glasses of that wretched brandy-substitute.  Besides,
I *am* the bodyguard and I can't very damn-well guard a body
that I can't even see.*

~-------------~

With recognition, Mandy's first response was pure male fury
that another male had dared challenge him, had dared attack
him from behind.  That reaction very nearly cost the
intoxicated Tyr his life.  In their first encounter, Mandy had
been more annoyed than angry, and had been, for the most part,
still rationally in control of her actions.  She'd consciously
chosen that Aikido throw because it would quickly free her
from his grip and because it was relatively gentle.  The man
had just had too much to drink, and she had seen no reason to
hurt him anymore than necessary.

That was *not* how Mandy felt now.  Red hot rage colored her
world and she reacted without thought to the consequences of
her actions.  For his part, the still inebriated Tyr had made
a nearly fatal mistake.   He'd simply grabbed her around the
waist which did not really restrain or limit Mandy in any way. 
He'd compounded his stupidity by trying to held her with one
arm while using his other hand in an attempt to muffle Mandy's
screams.  

Only Mandy had no intention of saying or screaming anything.

A heel shod foot slammed down onto Tyr's right instep,
followed almost immediately by two hard back-elbow strikes to
Tyr's solar plexus.  Gasping in pain for air that would no
longer come into his lungs, Tyr lost what little grip he had
on Mandy.  She didn't even step away, and instead, simply spun
around hard, leading with another elbow to Tyr's eye as she
snapped her following knee up into his groin.  

Tyr never felt the knife hand strike to his wishbone that
finally ended the fight.  Mandy's nut-shot had already shut
down his nervous system because it simply couldn't deal with
that much pain and agony.
He toppled to the floor, seeking the fetal position even in
unconsciousness.  Mandy had never moved more than six inches
from the spot he'd initially pulled her.

That was how Cat found them mere moments later as she pushed
her way through the milling crowd that had gathered around the
scene of the fight.  Mandy, standing above her fallen foe -
her legs slightly spread, her hands fisted and ready, her eyes
wild but locked on his still quivering body.  Cat barely
stopped the bouncer from coming at Mandy from behind.  "Not a
good idea," she'd whispered.  *Maybe I don't need to teach her
so very much after all,* she thought as she moved around so
that she was in front of Mandy.

"Mandy?" she said quietly.  When she got no response, she
called again - louder.  "Mandy?"  The smaller woman seemed to
shake herself back, and then finally, turned her eyes back on
Cat.  "What happened here?"

A dazed look replaced the stony fury on Mandy's face.  She
looked at Cat, and then down at Tyr.  "He was angry about
being shown up earlier," she said in a voice devoid of
inflection.  "Said he was going to train me . . . and then . .
. and then he was going to make me reward him . . . " Mandy's
voice died away.

Slowly, Cat moved to her friend and took her hand.  She knew,
or thought she knew what that meant.  She was afraid to bring
that issue out into the open, but she was more afraid not to. 
"What kind of reward, babe?" she asked softly, still pulling
Mandy away from the scene of her fight.

In a very child-like voice - almost a whisper, Mandy finally
answered.  "He . . . he was going to rape me, Cat."

It was like a dam breaking, Cat would think later - when she
had time to think.  Suddenly, Mandy was in Cat's arms, sobbing
loudly.  "Omigod, Cat, he was going to *rape* me," she'd cried
over and over again.  

~----------~

Interlude:

Teri had asked to be taken home as soon as Robert and the duty
nurse had things under control back at the compound.  She
needed to report this incident to the Cabal because it would
have a very direct bearing on what direction Sorenson, and
therefore on what direction BioCybernetics would take in the
near future.

But it had been damned hard to turn down the offer of wine and
comfort from Morag.  It occurred to Teri that Morag was
potentially almost as valuable an intelligence source as
Mandy.  The Leader might conclude that having Teri become
MacPherson's lover could be as useful as having the nurse
seduce Mandy.  It was certainly a less mission-hazardous
strategy than getting in Cat Donovan's way by making a play
for Mandy.

So why didn't she feel like reporting that or making that
recommendation to Freuda and the Leader?

Florence had not found an answer to that question when
Freuda's holographic avatar shimmered into view.  "What do you
have to report, Florence?" the older woman demanded in a cold
voice.

"Sorenson manipulated Donovan into taking her out to a club
tonight."  Teri fell into the clipped, unemotional tones of
the career nurse and military officer reporting to a senior. 
"While there, a drunken male patron attacked her, apparently
threatening rape."

"How did she respond?"

"Violently.  The attacker has a broken foot, two badly cracked
ribs, significant damage to the ocular socket about the right
eye and a seriously ruptured testicle.  The latter will likely
require amputation."

"Now that is interesting," Freuda said contemplatively. 
"*Very* interesting.  So, she fought back, did she?  Evidently
she is developing the strength that West predicted for her
with his optimization program."

"Most of the damage was done using the martial arts skills
learned from Donovan.  She is progressing at a rapid rate in
that area as well."

"When did she fight back?  After the threat or after the
attacker began to physically abuse her?"

"Neither.  She did not fight back as much as she attacked
first.  She doesn't have so much as a small scrape or bruise."

"How very male of her," Freuda sneered.  "Any post traumatic
stress response?"

"Once the immediate danger was past, she broke down completely
and had to be sedated.  As near as I have been able to
determine, it was Matthew Sorenson who was in control during
the conflict, but afterwards, it was Mandy Sorenson who had to
face the reality of nearly being raped."

"The first time she has really been forced to face that
particularly vulnerable aspect of her new gender.  How very,
*very* interesting," Freuda repeated.  "I will have to account
for that in my continuing effort to profile her for the
Leader.  Anything else?"

"Yes.  West is going to call in a psychologist, over
Sorenson's rather loud protests, in fact.  His point was that
Matthew Sorenson never had the therapy typically required of
individuals preparing for gender reassignment.  Additionally,
he wants to ensure that Sorenson has the support needed to
deal with that post trauma stress."

"Too bad we did not think of this sooner.  I might have been
able to develop a cover and be selected for her therapist,"
Freuda said with an evil smile.  "Then I *really* could have
made some headway with this project.  Very well, we will watch
the situation closely.  Report to me regularly so that I can
keep track of Sorenson's mental state.  The profile will not
be accurate until we know how she is reacting to this event
and to whatever therapy she will accept."

"Yes, Freuda."

"Oh, and by the way.  How are you coming in your mission to
seduce Sorenson?  The Leader is . . . concerned about your
evident lack of commitment to her orders in this regard."

Teri sighed, and shook her head, not caring if Freuda saw it
or not.  "Look, Freuda.  Donovan is *always* there, and not
only that, she's has become very possessive of Mandy.  Not
only that, but Jacobs and West were right - Sorenson is in
love with Donovan.  No other woman exists for her, sexually at
least, so long as Catherine Donovan is on the scene.  Making a
move on Sorenson will very likely get me reassigned out of the
her quarters."

Freuda went quiet for several moments before looking at Teri
with hard eyes.  "The Leader thinks it is a good idea and that
it is achievable," she said stiffly, "I am not certain you are
pursuing this tasking with sufficient revolutionary zeal,
Florence."

"Right now, Freuda, I am your *only* remaining intelligence
asset in place - the only person who can tell you what is
going on inside that Level One Security enclosure.  You think
about that and then decide what you really want me to do.  My
assessment *on-the-scene* is that Cat Donovan will have me
making beds, cleaning bedpans and passing out analgesics in
the main infirmary before I could get both lips on Mandy -
especially since Sorenson's condition no longer necessitates
twenty-four hour-a-day medical surveillance."

"You are being impertinent, Florence," Freuda charged.

"No, I am not.  I am giving you my honest evaluation of the
situation as the person on the hotseat, as the only person who
really knows all the personalities involved, and I am doing so
forcefully because I believe that is my *duty* to the
Organization and the Cause.  I will, of course, now follow any
direct orders you care to give now that you are fully apprized
of the tactical situation."

"I see.  Very well, Florence, I will give this matter every
consideration.  Expect our response within the week."

The avatar blinked out of the room without another word. 
Exhausted both by the day's events and by the intense battle
she had just fought, Teri sagged down onto one of her
overstuffed chairs. *Now, why didn't I tell her about
MacPherson and use that to blunt her nasty little attack?*

Teri was very much afraid she knew the answer to that
question, and knew the pain she would suffer when it came time
for her to choose between the Cause and Morag MacPherson.

Chapter 15: Explanations, Histories and 'Herstories'

Freuda walked briskly through the slightly shabby
neighborhood.  Winter was coming early to Boston, and the
winds that whistled down Commonwealth Avenue were chilly.  The
area had once, even in Boston's recent history, been the high
rent district of the Tea Party City, but that had all changed.

A second urban exodus, fueled by modern, super-high-speed
public transit and tele-commuting, had caused property values
for the majestic brownstone townhouses to plummet.  Now, most
people worked at home, and since they could cover hundreds of
kilometers in less time than earlier transportation systems
could cover a tenth that distance, saw little need to live in
such tight, albeit prestigious and luxurious circumstances. 
Boston had truly become a "college town super campus", and the
primary selling point of these historic homes was now their
proximity to the major universities of the greater Boston
megalopolis.  Students, for whatever reason, still liked to
walk.

Freuda, however, did not like to walk, and she wouldn't have
if the nearest public transportation terminal hadn't been
several blocks from her destination.  Wistfully, Freuda
thought about the warm comfort of her private vehicle, but no
one took a private aircar into downtown Boston anymore.  At
least, they didn't if they wanted more than just the hulk of
the air car's chassis waiting for them when they returned from
their business.  If the crazies on the airways didn't run you
over, the professional thieves would get what was left.  The
more things changed, she thought again, the more they stayed
the same, which was why she'd left her sporty little Spacer in
a secure, guarded parking lot just outside the city, in what
used to be called Rhode Island.  

She reached her destination and entered the house through the
ground entrance, her retinal scan already programmed into the
door's security system.  Once inside, the heat was a welcome
change from the cold winds.  She shed her coat and hat and
moved to a nearby stairway. 

*There would have been servants in times past,* she thought
sourly as she stomped up the steps, *Male servants who would
have seen to my comfort as is my due.  Damned equalists and
their Equal Rights, Responsibilities and Privileges Amendment. 
How could intelligent, clear-thinking women ever have
supported such a travesty against our feminist fore-mothers?*

The unfairness of that - the loss of what was in her mind the
natural place and prestige of women in the world - had been
the catalyst that had changed her life.  It was the motivating
factor that had set her, as a young university professor of
psychiatry, on the path to becoming Freuda.  

After untold millennia of domination and debasement at the
hands of men, women had finally banded together in the late
Twentieth Century to take political and economic control of
the world. With no further need for the physical labor their
bodies had been evolved to handle, men had been easy pickings
for smart, aggressive women who thought with the heads on
their shoulders as opposed to men who too often tried to think
with the head they carried between their legs.  Oh, a few
token men had still been there in politics and business, and
some exceptionally talented ones like Matthew Sorenson and
Robert West had even made it to the tops of their professions,
but most men had topped out at middle management.  At last
*men* had been the ones on the wrong side of the glass
ceilings.

To this day, Freuda couldn't understand what had gone wrong. 
About fifteen or twenty years ago, a small, vocal group of men
calling themselves "Human Beings for Equality" had popped up
in a few of the colleges around the country.  Somehow, they'd
managed to gather not only other men to their cause, but the
brightest and the best of their generation of women, too. 
Women who *should* have been too smart to fall for that naive,
idealistic drivel.  But fall they had, and before anyone quite
knew what had happened, all the woman-affirming and woman-
advancing institutions that had taken literally thousands of
years to build had been swept away.  Men were back in
positions of power in the world again.  That women of talent
and intelligence also remained in power was not the point. 
The point was that men were.

And since there are only so many top positions to go around,
every one occupied by a male meant one less available for a
woman.  Freuda still seethed over the indignity of that snub
to her feminine superiority.  *She* should have been named the
head of the school of psychiatry at her university years ago,
but she hadn't been.  A man, who should never have even been
considered, at least in Freuda's mind, for the simple fact
that he *was* a man, had been appointed instead.  That his
record, his scholarship and his reputation among their peers
had clearly outshown Freuda's own in every respect was a
complete irrelevancy.  He was a man and she was woman.  That
one criterion should easily have tipped the balance in her
favor.

Oh, she'd stayed at the university, even after having been
offered deanship at one school and a presidency at yet
another.  They were inferior institutions.  She needed to be
there when the world corrected itself so that she could assume
her rightful place.  That was where Sorenson's process came
in.  Men in power would begin to disappear.  Men carefully
selected because their seconds-in-command were women . . .
*reliable* women who would take action to correct the travesty
of the ERRPA once they were again free to act.   Freuda hadn't
decided what they would do with the men yet, except that they
would be "cured" of their masculinity.  Some of the more
intelligent and talented of them might make fairly acceptable
women once they had been properly indoctrinated, but they
would never be *men* or *in power* again.  THAT was certain.

On that happy thought, she reached her objective - a heavy,
old fashioned door at the end of the upstairs hall.  Calmly,
she knocked on the door, and then entered when bid.  She
opened the door and pasted a smile on her sharp featured face. 
"Good afternoon, Leader.  How are you, dear?"

"Well, thank you," was the response.  "Take a seat, please. 
You wanted this meeting, but we need to get it over with
quickly.  You know that I don't like these face-to-face
meetings."  

Nodding, Freuda took the proffered chair and began.  "I
understand, but we also agreed that some communiques were
never to be trusted to anything other than face-to-face." 

"Very well," was the terse response.  "So what is so vital and
sensitive that you broke at least five security regulations
setting up this meeting?"

"Martha Jenkins and Angstrom have been dealt with.  The people
we hired made it look like they were together at the time."

"And the assassins?"

"Also dead, I am afraid, although in a different part of the
world altogether."  Freuda's smile would have frightened
children.  "You see, I had another little job for them.  There
was this team of mercenaries training down in Brazil that I
allegedly wanted killed as well."

"What mercenaries?  Has that Donovan woman hired her own
professional soldiers-of-fortune to augment their security?" 
The Leader was dismayed.

"No.  The supposed mercenary group was actually our own covert
action team.  One of our women was wounded, but will be fine. 
The assassins won't ever take another commission in this
world, and they won't tell any stories about us or about
Jenkins and Angstrom, either."

"Very clever, Freuda, although it would have been difficult if
our paramilitary arm had been badly hurt in your little plot. 
However, all's well that ends well.  So, what do you think
happens next?"

"Uncertain.  Donovan will find them, of course.  One reason we
had to kill Angstrom is that they nearly had her as it was,
and she would have at least cast doubt onto who had been
behind setting up the psychological profile that persuaded
West to proceed with the male to female transition of
Sorenson.  At least now, while there is little chance they
will stop looking for us, their two remaining leads are out of
the picture.  Jenkins who was real, and Angstrom who was not -
not that it really matters since both are now permanently
silenced."

"I see.  Well, that gains us some more time, at least, and
with Florence still working inside Sorenson's inner sanctum,
we should have advanced warning if they do begin to close in
on us."

"Only should have, Leader?"  Freuda's tones were chiding.  

"She has not followed her orders to become intimate with
Sorenson, has she?  She is a trained seductress, as you
yourself have often told me.  She has a target who, by all
accounts should have all the control of a rabbit in mating
season, and she . . .  STILL . . . HASN'T . . .  SUCCEEDED!"

"I discussed this with her last night, Leader.  She has her
reasons, and on reflection, I agree with her decision not to
pursue Sorenson.  Donovan has become very possessive of
Sorenson, especially since last night, and we don't want to
set our only in-place intelligence asset at odds with
Sorenson's security chief."

"'Since last night'?" the Leader pounced on that.  "What is
the meaning of, 'since last night', Freuda?"

"That is the other reason I wanted to speak with you
personally.  Only Florence could have known this, and I did
not want to chance interception of the information."  

Freuda quickly reviewed the abortive date and near rape of
Mandy Sorenson for the Leader.  

"I see, and your assessment of her mental state?  Rape is a
crime so horrible that many think it worse than a clean
murder."

"And rightfully so," Freuda sputtered.  "Having to live with
the experience afterwards?  I'd rather die, so it *is* worse
than murder." 

"True," the Leader said with a half smile, pleased to have
pricked Freuda's private demon to life.  It was the reason
Freuda had been recruited.  She was smart - brilliant in her
field - but her obsessive preoccupation with the slights, real
or imagined, she'd suffered since the rise of the male
equalists blinded her to many things the Leader was just as
glad she could not see. "But, about Sorenson?"

With difficulty, Freuda put her fury away and turned back to
the Leader. "It is difficult to say how she will react.  The
mind is still male, and may not fully have appreciated her
vulnerability.  That coupled with the fact that she personally
nearly killed her attacker might make her feel somewhat
impervious to harm, and thus make her more reckless.  That
might make getting our hands on her somewhat easier."

"I think I hear doubt in your voice."

Freuda became pensive.  "You do, Leader.  We don't really know
all that much about how an unwilling, unprepared personality
reacts to a sex change.  All of our existing information is
from people who willing underwent transition counseling and
then some type of physical sexual reassignment.  Contrary to
popular fiction, changing a person from one sex to another is
not something you can do without that person knowing about it
in time to take some type of preventive action."

"It hasn't been possible until now," the Leader corrected
softly.

"Until now," Freuda agreed, her eyes going out of focus. 
"Look, Leader, I have little to base this opinion on except my
initial assessment of Sorenson-the-man.  He was smart - *very*
smart . . . it is going to occur to her just how vulnerable
she was during that assault.  She is also, in every way that
matters now, a virgin - a surgically unaltered virgin.  Even
men know that first penetration will hurt a woman if it is not
done properly or if the woman has not had her maidenhead dealt
with in a civilized manner beforehand.  My gut reaction is
that she'll become more reclusive than ever, at least until
she figures she is better able to protect herself."

"Sounds as if she did quite well last night."

"Sorenson-the-man was a perfectionist and nothing we have seen
to date indicates that Sorenson-the-woman is any different. 
She'll find fault with herself and won't give herself the
benefit of the doubt.  She'll train all the harder now until
she perfects herself physically and as a fighter."

"That's not good.  The computer projections are that she will
be incredibly dangerous if she reaches her full potential."

"Which she probably will achieve," Freuda said calmly.  "As I
said, Sorenson is driven to perfection. However, no amount of
physical training will make her faster than a blaster shot, or
impervious to a sleep drug."

"Then you still believe we will get her?"

"Oh, we'll get her, Leader.  We will definitely get her."

"And her company, too?"

"Of course.  As I said earlier, she may now be female, but her
mind is still male.  She will screw up and we won't."

~-------------~

Cat grimaced as she watched Mandy sparring with Morag.  Her
student's last kick had been seriously overextended and had
resulted in a momentary loss of balance - a critical,
potentially fatal mistake in a real fight.  Unfortunately,
while Morag was pulling her punches, Mandy was not.  Morag was
taking a beating while Mandy was too out of control to feel or
react to Morag's half speed retaliation.

"Stop!" Cat bellowed, and then swore savagely as Mandy did not
respond to the command and continued trying to press her
attack.  Cat moved in from behind and swept Mandy's feet out
from under her just as the smaller woman was winding up for
another kick.  Even from her ignominious position, flat on her
butt, Mandy still tried to attack.  Cat leapt to avoid a
sweeping kick aimed at her ankles, and lashed out with a kick
of her own.  

All the air exploded out of Mandy's body as Cat dug the ball
of her foot into her boss' solar plexus.  "I said stop,
Mandy," Cat said gently as she knelt down to help the
helplessly wheezing woman.  "Come on, let's get you over to a
chair, and then you can tell me what the hell you thought you
were doing."

"Don't . . . know . . . what the hell . . . you're . . .
talking about,"  Mandy sputtered as Cat settled her onto one
of the exercise benches.

"Right," Cat said sardonically.  "If MacPherson had been
trying to do anything but keep from killing you, you'd already
be out cold and you wouldn't be waking up until sometime next
week.  You were so intent on trying to kick her butt that you
left holes in your defenses a novice could get through."

Morag came in with a glass filled with water which she
silently handed to Mandy.  "You okay?" Cat asked her operative
as Mandy drank greedily.

"I took a few lumps, boss, but nothin' serious," Morag replied
softly.  "I'll be okay."

"Sor . . . sorry, Morrie," Mandy got out.  "I lost it for a
few minutes there."

"More like from the moment you walked on the mat, girl," Cat
said sternly.  Mandy stared at Cat with huge eyes and
suddenly, it was clear.  "Mandy?  Morag isn't that asshole
from the club, okay?  That fight is over.  He won't - *can't*
- hurt you.  Not now, not ever."

"He could have," was the wavering answer.  "I caught him by
surprise.  If I hadn't . . . or if you hadn't been there . . .
he'd have . . . he would have . . . OH GOD, CAT. . . he would
have . . . "  And suddenly, Mandy was sobbing inconsolably.

Instantly, Cat was down on the bench holding her, comforting
her.  "No, he wouldn't have," she said gently only to repeat
herself more firmly when Mandy kept weeping.  "Get Doc West in
here, Morag, now!"

"He was going to rape me, Cat," Mandy finally managed to get
out.

"He was going to try, sweetheart," Cat retorted firmly.  "I'd
say you fixed it so he won't be doing that again any time
soon."

"God, Cat, I was so frightened."

"Okay to be frightened, Mandy.  It's what you do when you're
scared spitless that counts and you did just fine."

"I have to be better at this stuff, Cat.  I am not going to
let anyone *ever* do that to me."  The crying was under
control now, and the fury was taking over again.

"Okay, Mandy, okay, but what just what happened out there on
the mat isn't the way to do it.  If Morag hadn't been so
careful not to really hurt you, you'd have been out cold
inside of . . . oh," Cat's tongue went firmly into her cheek,
" . . . maybe twenty seconds, give or take a couple of
seconds."

A watery chuckle answered Cat, and she began to relax a bit. 
"That bad, huh, Donovan?"

"Worse, Sorenson.  You'd have lasted twenty seconds only
because you're so damned fast, not because you were fighting
worth a damn.  Look, Mandy, if you want to improve your
fighting and self defense skills, that isn't the way to do it. 
Didn't I promise to teach you what you need to know?"

"Well, yes . . . but . . . "

"But nothing.  You'll get there, but you'll do it right.  Just
take it easy."

Mandy went very quiet and then, finally, nodded.  "Okay, Cat,
but I am not going out again until I am much better at this."

"Bullshit, Sorenson.  We're going out again this weekend -
maybe not to the same place, but no way are you going to hide
in here spending the rest of your life chasing some impossible
level of perfection.  You're plenty good enough right now and
you're going to get better."

"Promise?" Mandy asked, her voice oddly pleading, and to Cat,
oddly girlish.

"Promise," Cat affirmed and then found herself wrapped in a
strangling-tight hug.

"Mandy?" Robert West called as he hurried into the gym.  "What
is the matter?  Morag said it was urgent."

"Hi, Bob," Cat said as she gently disengaged herself from
Mandy.  "Look, you know about the problem last night?"  Bob
nodded.  "Okay, well, we need to talk to you some more about
it."

~---------------~

They'd adjourned to Mandy's sitting room, and had been joined
by the on-duty nurse, Teri Richards.  Robert had prescribed
tea and brandy as an immediate restorative, but Mandy was
actually helped more by having her friends - which now
definitely included both Morag and Teri - around her.

"I never even thought about the . . . the sex aspect of it
until afterwards, Bob.  Isn't that stupid?  Now I have a panic
attack anytime I think about it."

"As I tried to explain last night, that's to be expected. 
Soldiers always talk about having the shakes before and after
combat.  During the actual fighting they're too damned busy
staying alive to have anxiety attacks.  As for the sex thing? 
Mandy, my dear, you are still Matt in most ways."

"What?" Mandy squealed as she almost sprayed the table with
the sip of brandy she'd just taken.  "You need glasses,
friend."

"No," Bob said gently, "but you need a clearer picture of
yourself.  We should consider bringing in a therapist, someone
whose practice deals primarily with gender issues.  As we've
said before, you are in large part a man trapped in a woman's
body, and that is stressful.  You're handling it pretty well,
but it is going to rear its ugly head up every once in a while
and bite you unless you learn to deal with the stress of your
situation."

"Does that mean I have to start thinking like a girl?"

"Mandy, you already are, at least in some cases.  The problem
is that you have to face the entire package of your femininity
and deal with the whole package - emotions, mentality,
physicality.  Once you've done that, if you continue to be
Matt on the inside in a much nicer package, that's fine, but
you'll have developed mechanisms to help you deal with the
very feminine emotions and feelings that are going to swamp
Matt's rationality-based, masculine mind whenever Mandy jumps
up and clouts him one."

A call beep sounded from the comm-board, and Cat excused
herself to go answer.  

"Mandy?" Teri interjected, "I was once nearly raped, back when
I was in the service.  I'd been in combat before that and I
had been trained to protect myself even though nurses are
supposedly non-combatants.  And I *still* spent six months
seeing a therapist afterwards.  It isn't a sign of weakness."

Mandy smiled at the nurse and reached over to touch her hand
before turning back to face Bob.  "So, who do we bring into
this?  Do you know anyone who handles this type of thing? 
Someone we can trust?"

Bob shook his head.  "Nope.  Psychiatry is not my field, so I
don't know any practitioners well enough to know their
specialties or their professional reputations.  Only person I
ever heard of who does that type of work is that person whose
name was in your file . . . Angstrom?  If she is a real human
being, let alone a real psychiatrist."

"Oh, she's real on those counts, all right," Cat's voice came
from behind Bob and had all four of them spinning in their
seats to face her.  "She's also dead.  That was Davies over at
my main security control office.  We've found Martha Jenkins
and the Angstrom woman.  Only problem is someone else found
them first.  They're both dead.  It was supposed to look like
an accident, but my people called in some very skilled
forensic specialists.  I don't have all the details, but the
specialists on the scene are now calling it murder."

"MURDER???!?" Teri yelped.

"Murder," Cat affirmed before turning to face Mandy.  "Whoever
is behind this conspiracy is evidently pulling back and trying
to cover their tracks again."

"So," Mandy said with a cold calm she was far from feelings. 
"What does that mean?"

"Only thing we can say for sure is that someone killed them. 
Circumstances make it damned unlikely that those two would be
together and get killed by pros for any other reason but we
won't discount that.  Still, our best call is that their own
organization is behind the hit.  The big question is why did
they do it?  Obviously, they didn't want us to question those
two.  Are they getting ready to go to ground or are they up to
something and don't want us accidentally finding out?  We
don't have any way of knowing."

"So, Donovan?"  The steel in Mandy's tone had Cat looking down
at her boss warily.  "How do you intend to find the people
behind all this?  I am frankly getting very tired of this
crap."

Cat snorted back a laugh.  "Give us a chance to scope out the
scene and figure out what evidence is there first, will you,
Mandy?  But I think its fairly obvious is that our next move
is to find their hired killers.  On the bright side, a killing
so thoroughly planned and executed that experienced police
detectives initially mistake it for an accidental or natural
death narrows down our list of possible killers quite a bit,
and those killers will know who hired them.  One possibility
is that they were hired by an intermediary.  The other is that
someone in the organization made the contact with them. 
Either way, we've got to find those boys real quick."

"Why is that, Cat?" Teri asked, fighting down bile.

"Because if they'll kill two of their own to cover their
trail, then they'll sure as hell not think twice about killing
the hired help.  Our problem right now is that their hired
help is about the only lead we have left."

"Great!" Mandy growled.  "This is just great.  We know less
than we did except that the bad guys are starting to play
rough, even killing their own folks."  Smiling ruefully, she
turned back to face Bob West.  "This is a whole lot to deal
with, Bob.  Hell, I thought menstruating was bad.  Boy, was
*I* naive."

~---------------~

Interlude:
Florence sat in her darkened living room, tears of fury
streaming down her face.  The conversation with Freuda had not
gone well.  Freuda *had* ordered the execution of two women -
an innocent who had never had any contact with the
organization and a member who had put her own life and freedom
in danger for the cause.

Oh, Freuda had assured Teri that they were threats to the
ultimate victory of a resurgent feminist order, and that they
would have willingly sacrificed themselves for the cause, but
that was horseshit.

Teri had joined the organization because good women were once
again being put aside in favor of less talented men.  The
organization had been created and continued to exist in order
to protect women from that type of abuse, and to prevent it
from ever happening again.  And now, the leadership of that
organization had killed two women?  Just like that?

Unfortunately for her peace of mind, Teri could not help but
compare the recent behavior of her fellow revolutionaries with
that of the people she was betraying daily.  Would Mandy or
Cat kill like that?  That Cat would kill was a given - she was
a warrior, but would she kill a comrade or worse, an innocent
- just because that person might be used against them?

Teri knew the answer to that question, and it chilled her
soul.

Chapter 16: Love and Other Torments

"Well, that is a very comprehensive and exhaustive list, Dr.
Sorenson," Mandy's unwelcome guest said, a touch of emotion
almost like sadness rippling in her soft, soothing alto.  "I
never knew that my gender had quite so many downsides."

Fire burned at Mandy's cheeks and her mouth fell open.  "I
didn't . . . I mean . . . but of course I wouldn't . . . " 
Then she simply stopped and took a deep breath.  "You can stop
me any time, Dr. Thompson.  It can't be healthy for me to eat
quite so much of my foot.  Especially raw."

The slender, strongly featured woman in the gray business suit
managed a half-laugh at that and sat back in her chair. 
"Relax, Dr. Sorenson, please.  I was just teasing.  But you
have to admit the list was rather lengthy."

Mandy considered the other woman again.  Dr. Janice D. (Call
me Jan) Thompson had been selected, after a very thorough
vetting by both Bob West (for her professional credentials)
and by Cat Donovan (for her security reliability) as Mandy's
psychologist.  Her primary practice dealt with treating gender
related problems and facilitating gender transitions for
people considering sexual reassignment.  She was soft-spoken,
but Mandy could sense a steel will lurking behind those gentle
eyes. 

*Don't think she's someone I can B-S,* Mandy had concluded in
the first two minutes of their interview, *Might as well tell
her the truth.  Bob says she's the best and lord knows I need
someone to help me make heads or tails of all this.*  "Well,
hell, Doctor Thompson, I have just gone through a woman's
period and nearly gotten raped.  Neither of those ever
happened to me when I was a male.  And I *never* wanted this .
. . this change in the first place."

"Okay, I can accept and understand that.  So, why not just get
sexual reassignment surgery?  We are very good at female to
male transitions these days.  The bio-networked,
neurologically controlled phallic replacements are quite
effective and sensitive.  They're even adjustable after the
surgery in both . . . umm . . . size and sensation."

Mandy thought about that for a moment.  "Because I never
considered that.  Probably because no one mentioned it as a
possibility, but I don't think I would do it anyway."

"Why not, if being male is so much more what you want for
yourself?  I am told that not even the new males' lovers know
for sure once the reassignment and final healing are
complete."

"Mostly because I have faith in Bob West.  As long as there is
a chance that I can be fully male again, I am not going to
mess with this body.  Cutting things off or cutting them out
might do something irreparable and mess up that chance to be
me again."

"Dr. West tells me that a safe re-transition back to male
gender is still a very slim possibility."

That brought forth a chuckle.  "That's just Bob.  In all the
years we've worked together, Bob has always been the eternal
pessimist.  Sometimes he will forget where we are in a project
and tell us how slim the odds of success are after we've
already succeeded."

"Ah, I see.  So, to return to the subject, surely there are
some aspects of your new life that you like?  I mean, here you
are young again, physically attractive, healthy. . . ?  Aren't
those significant issues to you?"

Mandy hesitated, sensing a psychologist's trap.  Was it just
her imagination, or was Dr. Thompson becoming less friendly? 
Was her professional smile becoming somehow more forced with
each question? *Calm down, Sorenson, don't add paranoia to
your many problems.*  "I guess, Doctor, if you consider that
the alternative was being dead."

"So, being young, healthy and beautiful is at least slightly
preferable to being dead if survival requires you to become a
woman in the process?"  This time there was no doubt something
was seriously upsetting the attractive psychologist and a
single tear cut a black streaked rivulet down her lightly
powdered cheek.

Color flared in Mandy's cheeks and she looked away in shame. 
"I . . . I guess I owe you an apology," she whispered.

Thompson started to say something, but caught herself. 
Sighing, she closed her eyes hard, squeezing out a few more
tears.  She fumbled in her purse for a tissue, daubed away the
tears and then shook her head.  "No, you don't owe me an
apology," she sighed.  "I am supposed to be better than this,
and that little exchange was unfair to you and unprofessional
of me.  I apologize to you, Dr. Sorenson," she finished with
grave dignity.

Mandy tried to smile.  "That's all right, Doctor.  I am
probably not the most positive and cooperative patient you've
ever had to deal with."

"Nevertheless, it is my job to help you, and instead I . . . "
she shook her head again.  "Look, this isn't a good excuse,
but . . . well, it's just that most if not all of my patients
would sell their souls AND their bodies for anything remotely
close to what has happened to you."  She stopped abruptly and
pressed her fingers to her eyes, wrinkling her brow as if
against a migraine.  "See what I mean?  I just said 'my
patients', and yet, *you* are one of my patients now.  Damn."

"Doctor?" Mandy asked softly.

"Forgive me, Dr. Sorenson.  Your needs are very different from
those of my other patients in that you have already undergone
transition, unwilling though that experience was, and now you
need help coming to grips with that.  I find myself having
trouble getting past how beautiful you are and reacting very
badly to your understandably negative responses to being a
woman against your desires and evidently, also against your
basic nature.  I will understand if you would like your team
to find another therapist."

Mandy thought about that and about how she'd spouted off when
they'd started this session.  She'd been angry at Bob for
having forced this head-shrinker on her, and she'd responded
by attacking Dr. Thompson with a spate of pure, unadulterated
mindless bitching.  *Hell, Sorenson, if you'd been starving
and this woman had offered you her seat at a banquet, YOU
would have complained that the filet mignon was overcooked and
then blamed her for it.*  "No, it was my fault.  I was upset
about being given no choice about this, and childishly tried
to be obstructive.  I am sorry."

A sad smile crossed the older woman's face.  "You're not my
first semi-involuntary patient, Mandy.  I knew what you were
doing when we started today and more importantly, I knew why
since Dr. West had told me you had been initially opposed to
these consultations.  I still let you . . . or rather, your
reaction to your current circumstances upset me enough that I
lost my professional composure and objectivity."

"Can we start over, Dr. Thompson?  Maybe give each other
another chance?" Mandy asked softly.

Jan Thompson's earlier, unforced smile blossomed at that, and
she nodded.  "I'd like that, Dr. Sorenson, I'd like that a
great deal.  And didn't I tell you to call me Jan?"

Sighing, Mandy nodded.  "Yes, you did.  Please call me Mandy."

Silver-gray eyes became serious.  "Odd that you would choose
to be called by a feminine name when you've just spent the
last twenty minutes listing in colorful detail your horrible
experiences since waking up female.  Now why is that, I
wonder?"

Mandy forced a smile to her lips.  "Well, Doc . . . ummm . . .
Jan, as I recall, there were a couple of reasons.  One, 'Matt'
didn't seem to fit anymore, and two, being called 'Matt'
reminded me rather forcibly that I wasn't 'Matt' anymore."

"And you chose 'Mandy' because it was close to your old name?"

Without thinking, Mandy answered, "Actually, Cat named me."

"Ah, I see.  Well, I think it was a good decision on your
part, Mandy.  It is strange that you wouldn't find a feminine
name yet another negative aspect of your current life,
though."

*I never thought about that,* Mandy reflected, *but she's
right.  Hell, Sorenson, you know damned well you tolerate,
even LIKE the name because Cat gave it to you.  How do you
tell the good doctor THAT one?*  "It hasn't, Jan, and like I
told you - a lot of that was mindless bitching because I was
angry at being maneuvered into seeing you like this." 

"I see," she said enigmatically.  "Mandy, let me be up front
with you.  I know about Matthew's unrequited feelings for the
formidable Ms. Donovan, and about how you were changed into a
computer's idea of her ideal mate.  Isn't that part of the
reason that you accepted the naming without compunction?"

*SHIT*  "Oh hell, Jan.  Yes, it is."  *Well, you just promised
to be up front with her.  "Look, I am in love with Cat
Donovan, okay?  And she liked the name, so I just smiled and
started calling myself Mandy."

"I see.  So that's why you accepted being named 'Mandy'? 
Because it pleased Ms. Donovan?"

"Under all this feminine bone and skin, there beats the heart
of an old fashioned romantic male, doc.  I'd do just about
anything to make that woman happy.  That's just the way it
is."

Jan nodded slowly and became pensive.  "Mandy, I am going to
ask you a question, but I don't want you to answer it right
now.  I want you to think about it. You've made some decisions
in your life recently, such as your non-consideration of
sexual reassignment, and I want you to take a step back and
think hard about your motivations.  It may not change your
decisions, but you need to understand why you are making those
decisions."

"Okay, Jan.  Ask away."

"You say you love Cat Donovan, and that you would do just
about anything to make her happy.  I have watched her watching
you, and it is clear that she is extremely fond of you and
moreover, is strongly attracted to you.  What are you going to
do, if and when Dr. West finds a way to make you male again,
if what it takes to make Ms. Donovan happy is Mandy?"

Stunned, Mandy could only stare at the other woman.  Finally,
she managed to get her voice to work.  "I'm not sure I
understand, Jan," she choked out.

"Oh, but I think you understand perfectly, Mandy.  Well, I
must be on my way.  I will see you in a day or so."

Mandy rose to walk the psychologist to the door.  Just before
they reached the door, Jan stopped.  "Oh, I have a favor to
ask.  Would you think about letting me use our discussions in
a paper I am writing?  Your experiences are so unique, that
there are many things that could be learned from them for
others."

Mandy stopped and thought for a moment.  "I am not sure,
Doctor, if it would be such a good idea for my situation to
become public knowledge.  At least, not until we know why the
process fatality rate is so high, and so inconsistent with our
understanding of human genetics.  Other folks might try to
reproduce the process and start killing folks."

"It's really that unsafe?" Mandy nodded firmly, and the Doctor
sighed.  "I see. That's so sad.  Part of the reason I was so
upset with you earlier is that one of my patients committed
suicide last week.  She'd just completed transition, and well
. . .  what medical science could give her wasn't enough for
her.  She was such a sweet and gentle little person, and I
became very close to her during her counseling.  I am afraid
that I was reacting to her death and your rather forceful
rejection of all the things she wanted most.  I truly am sorry
for that.  As to the paper, I understand your thinking on that
score, Mandy.  Actually, I understand a great deal more than I
did before.  Just think about it and let me know.  Maybe we
could agree that we'd only do the paper if Robert does find a
solution?"

Impulsively, Mandy reached over and pulled the grieving
psychologist into a hug.  "Maybe we will at that," she
murmured before releasing her hold.  "Drive safely, Jan.  Oh,
and Doc?"  Jan Thompson looked at Mandy, a quizzical look in
her smoky eyes.  "I've only known you for a few hours, but I
was a damned good judge of people when I went by the name of
Matt, and I'm still just as good.  That patient of yours?  I
*know* you did everything humanly possible for her.  You
wouldn't have done it any other way."

A surprised look flitted across Jan's face before being
replaced with wry amusement.  "Sure of that, are you, Mandy?"

"Positive, Doc.  See you soon."

Nodding her head, Jan smiled.  "You, too.  Think about my
questions, Mandy.  I think the answers are important."

~------------~

Interlude: Mandy with Teri

Twenty minutes later, a greatly subdued Mandy wandered back
into the main living area of her high security apartment. 
Peripherally, she noticed Morag and Teri chatting near Teri's
desk, but they broke off whatever they were talking about when
they noticed Mandy's arrival.  Waving both a greeting and a
farewell to Mandy, Morag turned and hurried off toward the
security check point, leaving a solemn-faced Teri staring
after her.

*Now where have I seen that look before,* Mandy asked herself
as she studied the motionless nurse. *Like every morning in my
mirror when I think of Cat Donovan, perhaps?  Oh, well - hell. 
I *am* the boss and what's the point of being the boss if you
can't meddle now and then?*

"She's a great person," Mandy said quietly as she padded up to
where Teri still watched the now-closed door.

"WHAAA . . . " the surprised nurse squealed as she jumped away
from the unexpected voice. "Oh, Mandy, you surprised me," she
said after collecting herself.

"Sorry," Mandy offered with what she hoped was a gamine grin. 
"I just said that Morag was a really great person."

A look of great sadness swept across the nurse's face.  "Yes,
she is.  I like her . . . a lot."

"More than just 'like', I'd say, Teri.  I'd say you were more
than halfway in love with her, and I'd say Morag is just the
same over you."

Teri's eyes narrowed.  "Don't you mean 'lust', Ms. Mandy?" 
The words were sharp but Teri's demeanor was sad, "And there
is *no* way that Morag feels that way towards me."

Mandy shook her head solemnly.  "No, I said what I meant.  I
suspect you'd be more than able to press your advantage with
Morag if lust was all that was motivating you.  For all her
training and fighting skills, Morrie is still fairly
inexperienced and naive.  No, if all you wanted was to scratch
your itch with her, you'd have had her by now because, as I
said, she feels the same for you."

"And so what if I am?" Teri did not realize she'd practically
mimicked Morag's Gallic accent with MacPherson's favorite
colloquialism.  "She's Catholic, for goodness sake, Mandy. 
Hell, she's probably going through the torments of the damned
just dealing with whatever feelings she does have for me.  Can
you imagine what that Catholic guilt of hers would do to her
if she ever slipped up and made love with me?  Another woman?"

"And seeing her like that the morning after, her guts all
twisted up with guilt and shame would just about kill you,
wouldn't it?  Especially if you were the cause of it?"

"Especially that," Teri agreed with a shaky nod, "I'd rather
just be her friend than ever see her diminished in any way
because of me or something I did to her."

*God, does that ever sound familiar.  How many times did that
very worry keep me from trying to jump Cat's gorgeous bones
back in my XY days?* "That's hard, Teri.  Unrequited lust
sucks."

The laugh that answered Mandy had an harsh edge to it.  "Like
you said, Mandy, if it was just lust there are any number of
ways to deal with that problem that don't involve taking Morag
to bed.  Unfortunately, the only one I want is her."

*Cut 'halfway' and insert 'head-over-heels',* Mandy thought.
*Only the real thing turns you inside out like this while
making the sex organs just so much useless, unresponsive flesh
with anyone else but 'the ONE'.*  "So, what are you going to
do?"

"Live with it until I can't anymore," Teri said with a weary
shrug of her shoulders.  "Look for other work if it comes to
jumping her bones or leaving." *Although only God knows how I
am going to manage that with the Organization breathing down
my neck to stay here and feed them information.  If, as Cat
believes, they've killed one member of the group to protect
themselves from discovery, what would they do if their number
one agent in place suddenly decided to stop playing?*

"I'd regret losing you," Mandy said sincerely.  "You are a
helluva nurse and a better friend.  You know I will write you
a killer reference, but I won't want to do it."

"Thanks."

"That reminds me.  How the hell did you ever end up working
here for me, anyway?  I mean, what unmitigated fool in the
Army let you get away?  Shouldn't you be wearing General's
stars and telling the other nurses how it's done?"

"Long story, boss.  The short version is that when the Equal
Rights, Responsibilities and Privileges Amendment was passed,
the Army got interested in making sure that everyone got a
fair shake.  Seems there was this major discrimination and
assault case from the late Twentieth Century, involved the
Navy, called Tailfeathers or something like that.  Anyway, the
bigwigs didn't play fair and tried to cover it up.  Then, even
after they got caught, they still tried to get around the new
rules about fair treatment for women.  The powers-that-were
got hammered for that, and the politicos started forcing them
to play by an even more rigid set of new rules.  End result
was the start of the shift of military and political power
from men to women."

"But ERRPA changed all that making rights and privileges equal
between the sexes."

Teri snorted at that.  "And you say Morag is naive?  Boss,
someone still has to enforce all those high-minded new rules
and regulations, and those someones are going to lose their
cushy government jobs and pensions if they don't find and
punish rule-breakers - even if there aren't any real offenders
to find and punish.  On top of that, all the current military
commanders know all about Tail-whatever, and they really don't
want to be shoved out of power on their collective asses by a
Twenty First Century remake of the original Tri-D-video, so
they went along.  Some might say they went too far on their
own, but the end result was that the selection rates for
promotion and for the plum jobs suddenly were heavily tilted
toward men, even when they were not the most qualified persons
available."

"But I thought there wasn't going to be anything like that
under ERRPA.  Fair treatment for all based on merit."

"Have you seen my record, Mandy?"

"When you interviewed.  I thought it was superb.  Why?"

"Because I barely made my last promotion and then got passed
over for command selection.  In my year group, 80% of the
males were selected for command compared to only 25% of the
women.  I am good - hell, I am VERY good, but I didn't quite
walk high enough above the water to beat those odds.  The
glass ceiling is back, at least in the army."

"In publicly funded academia, too.  Of course, that was to my
benefit, or at least, I thought it was at the time.  That was
how I got Martha here from MIT.  She made such a difference
around here when we finally got BioCybernetics stood up,
keeping the place organized and running smoothly."

"Good to know she was appreciated."

"Oh, she was.  Heck, I paid her more than I paid most of my
VP's.  Actually, I offered her a VP slot and she turned me
down.  Told me she was happy keeping track of me, and since I
paid her so well, why did she need to give up the power she
had as gatekeeper to the king?  Guess I know her real reasons
for wanting to stay on as my executive assistant now."  Mandy
went very quiet before continuing.  "Dammit, I wish I knew
what I did to drive her to do . . . do THIS to me.  And I
wonder . . . "

Teri saw the tears start to flow and moved over to hug Mandy
to her.  "Wonder what, Mandy?" she whispered into Mandy's
hair.

"If she knew how little chance I had of surviving the
transition.  I wonder . . . wonder if a woman I loved like a
favorite aunt knew she was very likely sentencing me to
death."

"I don't know, Mandy," Teri crooned, her own tears falling
now, "I just don't know."  *God, what the hell are we doing
here?*

~-------------~

Interlude: Cat with Morag

Morag hustled out into the security alcove, her emotions all
mixed up.  She'd never *felt* this way about a guy before, let
alone a woman.  Father Pat had made her say five Rosaries a
day for four weeks the time she'd confessed to her youthful
indiscretion in the hayloft with Danny MacAdam.  She didn't
even care to think about the penance the old parish priest
might come up with if she so much as hinted about these new
and strange feelings in the confessional.  And yet, her
feelings for the blond haired, blue eyed nurse ran deep.  

She strode past the checkpoint and all but skidded to a stop
when she realized that the guard on duty was Cat.  That in
itself wasn't unusual.  What was very unusual and what had
stopped Morag in her tracks was the fact that Cat wasn't
paying attention - to much of anything least of all her
responsibilities as guard.  *She'd tear a strip off anyone
else she saw behavin' that way,* Morag thought as she walked
up to where Cat stood brooding.

"Uhh . . . boss?  Are ye okay, now?" she asked softly.

Cat seemed to rouse, but still did not answer.  Worried now,
Morag punched her communicator.  "Davies, get a relief watch
to station zero, now!" she snapped as she moved over to put an
arm around her boss.  "C'mon now, Chief.  Lets get ye to a
chair.

"Wha . . . " Cat said, her eyes starting to clear.  "What?"
she asked more strongly, her head starting to swivel as she
scanned for trouble.  

Just then, two security guards hustled into the alcove.  Morag
looked them over and recognized the two men.  "Take the watch
until the regulars get back from break.  I need to brief the
Chief on some vital matters," she growled, hoping they'd
believe her.  Turning to Cat, she assumed a more deferential
tone.  "Shall we continue this briefing in your office, Ma'am? 
It is the nearest chamber with a high enough security code."

Recognizing the ploy, Cat nodded, then stood and led the way.

Once inside, she whirled on Morag.  "Okay, what is so damned
important?"

*Glory be,* Morag thought in wonder, *She believed my trick,
too.*  "Ummm, Boss, you were day dreamin' on watch.  I was
worried about ye, particularly when ye dinna snap out of it 
right away, so I called for a relief and got ye the hell out
of there.  Ye mind tellin' me where the hell your head was
at??  Lord above, Chief, ye'd have had anyone else's guts for
garters had ye found 'em like that on watch."

Unsteady all of a sudden, Cat settled herself down into a
chair.  "I see.  I hadn't realized . . .  Well, thank you,
MacPherson.  That was well done.  Now, if you will excuse me .
. . ?"

At that moment, MacPherson wanted nothing more than to let the
matter drop, but she couldn't. "It doesna work that way,
Chief, and well ye know it.  Hell, they're your own words. 
You are the head of a special security assignment and the
rules say that anyone on the detail needs to challenge someone
when they are not giving the job their full attention.  We've
already had one attempted murder and at least two successful
ones that we know about.  What the hell was goin' on in your
head back there?"

For a long time, Donovan did not answer, and simply stared at
an increasingly nervous Morag MacPherson.  *Damn!  Suppose she
cans me?!?  Will I ever see Teri again?*

Finally, Cat sighed, and nodded her head.  "You're right, of
course."

Relief washed over Morag.  "It sometimes helps to talk about
things.  I've a good ear, and a closed mouth," she offered,
and then feeling brave, added, "especially for m'friends."

That made Cat smile.  "Good to know - both about your mouth
and ears, and that you agree that we've become friends.  Take
a seat, Morag.  What I was doing was fretting about Mandy."

Morag had barely settled into her chair when she was sliding
forward again to the edge of her seat. "Have ye found out
who's behind this?  Are they planning an attack?  What?"

Grimly, Cat shook her head.  "I only wish that was the
problem.  That I could deal with.  No, this is about Mandy . .
. and me.  I . . . well . . . I . . . shit!  I love her,
okay?"

Morag tried and failed to stifle a laugh and it came out as a
surprisingly girlish giggle.  "And so what else is new?"

"That obvious, huh?"  At Morag's grinning nod, Cat snorted. 
"Well, that is only part of the problem. You see, while I love
Mandy like . . . . well, like a lover, I loved Matt like a
brother.  That was okay back then - when I thought he liked me
sort of the same way.  Now that I know she AND he loved me,
but wanted me like a lover . . . well, that's a problem."

"How so?"

Cat again went silent, and Morag could see the internal
struggle she was fighting in the lines on her face.  "I don't
know if I could love a man . . . any man, even Matthew who I
*know* is Mandy . . .*that* way."

"Well, I dinna know if I see the problem, Cat, 'cause she *is*
Mandy."

"But she wants to be Matthew again," Cat wailed, as near to
tears as Morag had ever seen the powerful, controlled security
specialist.  "And I love her too much to ask her to sacrifice
something that intrinsic to her for me.  I know you can't
understand or accept that two women could or should love one
another . . . not like that, anyway, but it would be like
watching Mandy die, even though I knew that the male Matthew
was still the same person . . . the same soul."

"Well, you might be surprised, Cat, about what I understand,
but I do *know* that her body was designed to reflect your
dream lover.  I guess Dr. West succeeded?"

"God, yes, he did.  Cripes, Morag, all I have to do is look at
her and I want to bite her . . . in all kinds of very
interesting places."

*I understand that feeling, too, entirely *too* well.*  "So,
what are you going to do about it?"

Cat laughed, but it was an unhappy sound.  "What do you think
I was muddling through when you caught me asleep at the switch
on watch?  I am not going to try and stop her if she decides
to go through with the re-transition, but then what do I do?"  

"Is it the . . . oh, hell, the penetration part that you can't
handle, Cat?"  Morag asked, feeling out of her depth, but
figuring it would be best if she could keep Cat talking?

A ribald snort answered that question.  "Not unless the new
Matt is hung like a circus pony.  Girls make love *that* way,
too, MacPherson," Cat added, pleased to see Morag's milk-white
complexion flame at the image.  "No, it's not the idea of
heterosexual intercourse that turns me off.  I don't know if
it is any one big thing as much as the sum total of so many
little things.  Cuddling up and finding hard muscle where I
was looking for soft curves.  Kissing without the feel of
lipstick on both sides.  Whisker burn in sensitive places on
me.  Hairy legs.  And God, suppose he got all potbellied on
me?"

"As if you'd let him!"

"True," Cat replied more easily, "I guess those things sound .
. . I don't know, pretty trivial . . . "

"Not at all, boss," Morag jumped in.  "But how will you handle
it if she does go back to being a he and wants to pursue you?"

"I just don't know, Morag, and that's the God's own truth.  Do
I make a move on Matt and see how I like it when I know that
the man I am trying to make love with is also the woman I fell
in love with?  Suppose I can't handle it and needed to break
it off?  I'd hurt him terribly, and I couldn't stand that."

"Is that why you've not made a move on her now?  For the same
kind of reasons?"

"Mostly.  I am not sure I could be quite so noble once I have
had a real taste of her, especially if it was as good as I
think it could be when . . . *if* the two of us make love. 
I'd use every dirty trick in the book to keep her from
changing back into a man.  I don't like that about myself, but
if I am honest with myself, that's what I think I would do."

"Ye might talk to that psychologist lady.  She probably
couldn't talk specifics to you - confidentiality and all that
stuff - but she might be able to advise you how to go on with
Mandy.  She strikes me as a smart and carin' woman."

"There is that," Cat mused aloud.

Morag stood and started for the door, stopping at the
threshold.  "Just two things, Cat."

"Yes, Morag?"

"First, ye need to get your head back into the game. You know
that.  If you can't, don't take the watch anymore until you
can."  The words were stern, but Cat was a pro herself, and
took them like a pro.  She nodded her agreement.  "And while
you're doin' all that heavy thinkin', consider this.  It isna
a done deal that Dr. West can fix what is wrong with the sex-
changin' stuff.  She might be Mandy forever.  How would ye
feel fifty years from now if you and she had never done
anything about how you feel about each other?"

Stunned, Cat could only gape at her younger friend.  "I
thought you didn't believe in girls with girls, MacPherson? 
Against the teachings of your faith."

"It 'tis," Morag agreed, "but I also believe in a God of Love
who put love on this earth for a reason - a good reason.  If
He gave you and Ms. Mandy the gift of true love between ye, I
believe it is for a good reason, too.  Sometimes I think that
wasting that gift of love is the greatest sin of all, 'cause
there is just too darn little of it in this world.  See you at
watch change, boss."

Cat watched the door hiss shut, and thought about love . . . 

. . . and about Mandy.

~----------~

A few minutes later, Cat rose and left her office thinking
that a workout might help.  She didn't see a familiar figure
slip quietly out of her office's executive washroom behind
her.

"Lord above," Mandy said softly as she let herself out of
Cat's office, "What do I do about THAT?  Who says that
eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves? 
Well, at least I know she feels the same about me as I do
about her, and that she is just as confused as I am.  Just
wish that helped me know what the hell I am supposed to do."

~----------~

Chapter 17: Plans, Problems and Solutions

Interlude:

Teri Richards watched as her relief made a quick scan of the
instrument readouts and then began to read the day log.  Not
that there was much to review.  Teri's professional opinion
was that Mandy had little need for the round the clock
supervision, and soon, even the very cautious Doctor West
would recognize that fact.  

The Leader and Freuda would not be pleased to lose Teri's
window into the new woman's world.  Sighing, she began to
gather her things in preparation for going home.

"Hey, Teri . . . "

Teri turned and found Morag MacPherson walking over toward the
station. "Hey, yourself.  What's up?"

"I've got tickets to a concert, tonight.  Want to go?"

One of the things they had discovered was they shared a taste
for the same kind of music, so Teri was tempted. *Perhaps I
should try to convince Freuda and the Leader that it would be
a good idea to cultivate this relationship so that when they
do end the monitor watch on Mandy, I will still have contact
with Morag.  After the grief Freuda has been giving me for not
seducing Mandy, this is at least sounds plausible.  I don't
want to lose her!*

"Sure?  Where do you want to meet?"

"I'll pick you up about seven at your place, okay?  We'll stop
tae get a bite after the show."

"Great.  Now, I have to run.  I need to pick up some stuff at
the market."

She was just out the door when Bob West burst past her. 
"Mandy!  Cat!  I've got it!  We need to . . . "  The solid
security door went shut, blocking off any further sound from
inside. *Damn,* Teri thought furiously.  For a moment, she
considered going back inside, pretending she had forgotten
something, but then she rejected that plan.  Her return could
only be momentary, and would likely distract even Robert West.

*Well, at least I will have something to tell them tonight. 
Mandy thinks West has a good idea what has been preventing the
reverse transition for former males, so his excitement can
only mean that he has figured out a possible solution to
that.*

~-------------------~   

"So, you see I need test samples," Bob was saying, still
flying on the high of discovery.  "I mean, I know it *should*
work, but what if I have missed something again?  I mean, I
can test just Mandy, but that won't be conclusive."

*Good old Bob,* Mandy thought indulgently. *He really is sure
that he has the solution, but he's been wrong once, so he will
follow the philosophy that anything worth doing is worth
overdoing.*  "So, what do you want to do, Bob?"

"I want to get samples from a group of folks, make up the
intervention treatment for them, and make sure that everything
goes as predicted by the computer this time.  So far, the
treatment has worked for your tissue, but it hasn't been
optimized yet, and I'd like to be a little more confident that
I understand what is going on this time.  I mean, it isn't a
crisis this time.  We can take a few days or weeks to make
sure we really have this thing nailed down."

For just a moment, Mandy considered being male again, and was
surprised at how noncommittal she felt about it. Dr.
Thompson's parting question and her own inadvertent
eavesdropping had been much on her mind of late.  Her eyes
went over to where Cat was seated, and saw the tension in the
other woman's bearing.

*Other woman,* she thought with a touch of amazement. *Since
when have I thought of myself as a woman?  And why doesn't
THAT realization bother me?*

"Robert?  If you're going to be that careful?" she said
quietly.

"Yes, Matt . . . I mean, Mandy?" 

"If you are going to do this testing, make sure you are
testing what you'd really be using.  Only optimized
treatments.  We already know we don't know the human genome as
well as we thought we did.  Let's not waste effort on
something that wouldn't be what we'd really be using."

Robert considered that for a few moments.  "That will add time
to the process, Mandy.  Even on your newest, speediest
QuantCha machines, optimization takes about an hour or so per
subject."

"As you said, old friend, we've got the time in hand." 
Another thought hit Mandy.  "Bob?  Are you testing born women
as well as tissue that is now female but that started out as
male?"  Robert shook his head.  "Test tissue from born women,
too, just for the hell of it.  Let's find out if there are
gotchas there as well.  Same rules."

"I'll have to chart their genome patterns first," Robert
pointed out.

"So, start with women you have already charted.  Cat, Teri,
Morag.  Get tissue samples from them and test them when you
test mine while you collect patterns from other women on
staff."

Bob shrugged. "Okay.  Actually, I don't think have Nurse
Richards' pattern, but that won't take very long once I have
her in the lab.  I'll get the stuff for Morag and Cat ready to
go tonight and get their tissue samples tomorrow.  It won't
take long, but I will need them over in my shop to do it.

~----------------~

Interlude:

The "council" of holos was again meeting in Teri's apartment.

"Our own facility for the regendering of those men who have
displaced females from positions of political and economic
power is now complete, thanks to the plans and technical data
provided to us by Admin," the Leader said.  "If what Florence
infers is correct, Robert West has found a solution to the
sex-linked failures.  Our ultimate objectives will definitely
be advanced if our adversaries survive as women so that those
who remain male can eventually know our power and fear us."

"We need the technical data from West's new process, Leader,"
Freuda put in.

"True," the Leader agreed.  "We also need to be sure that
Florence's supposition, based on admittedly sketchy evidence,
is correct.  An open attack on BioCybernetics will only
succeed one time.  We must be sure that we will get what we
need to make our facility and our grand cause successful."

"Florence could signal us when West reports success, Leader,"
another wraith offered.

"We must strike as soon as we are certain they have solved the
sex-linked survivability problem.  Freuda, station our strike
team and have them ready to go.  Florence?  As soon as you are
sure they have the solution in hand, use your signaling device
and be prepared to disappear.  Understood?"

'Everyone' murmured their understanding.  The Leader's avatar
stood.  "Very well.  Our glorious destiny is at hand.  The
hated ERRPA will shortly be rendered impotent as so-called
"men-of-power" disappear without a trace from the public eye. 
We will gather at our hidden facility after we have
successfully obtained the new data.

Chapter 18: Under Attack

Morag walked into Robert's main lab and stood behind the older
man as he studied the symbols on his small lab computer.  She
waited for several moments to be recognized, but West was in a
different world.  "Doctor?" she said gently, her soft brogue
rolling the 'r' liltingly.

Robert jumped as if he'd been poked, but he calmed quickly
enough once he recognized Morag.  "Ah, Morag, my dear.  So
good of you to come over so quickly."

"The Chief said ye needed tae talk with me, Doctor."

"Well, yes, but actually, I need a bit more than that.  I need
. . . that is, it would help greatly if you would let me take
a few tissue samples from you."

Morag's stomach rolled just a bit at that.  "Tissue?  What
tissue and why, Doctor?" she demanded, not at all certain she
wanted any part of this.

"Oh . . . just bit of skin and a few drops of blood . . . no
more than a nick.  That's all.  As to why . . . well, you know
who Mandy really is . . . or at least . . . who she used to
be?"  The last was really more a statement than a question.

"Yes, sir.  The Chief briefed me into the program a week or so
ago at the direction of the Boss."

"So I heard.  Well, I think I have determined what has been
preventing me from changing Mandy back into a male.  Right
now, I am setting up tissue tests on samples from Mandy to
make sure that the tissue remains whole during the transition
from XX chromosome based back to XY."

"So?  I am not Mandy, sir?  Why do you want tae steal
m'blood?"

Robert sighed.  "You see, Morag, I only *think* I know what
happened last time.  It occurs to me, that if there is one
interaction I don't know about, there might be others.  I want
to see if I can change tissue from folks other than Mandy
without having that tissue disintegrate or die on me.  And you
and Cat are especially interesting cases.  You see, there are
two different gene sites that each seem to determine if a
person will survive transition.  Men who survive the change to
women end up with a gene set that precludes them surviving the
return trip.  Surprisingly, you and Cat have that gene set
naturally.  In other words, if I did not intervene and fix
that gene set before the main transition, you would die from
the treatment.  Actually, in your case, I would only have to
fix one of the gene pairs.  Cat would require both."

"I see," Morag said softly.  "So, does this mean you've
already designed a new body for me?"

"You might say that," Robert affirmed pointing to a group of
small amber bottles clustered over on the lab table.  "I
prepared that treatment using the new intervention and the
optimizing program so that I can test it with your tissue."

"So, what kind of man would ye make of me, Doctor?" Morag
asked with an impish grin.

"Impressive, my dear, very impressive.  But then, you are
already a very impressive woman, and I would not make you
less."  Robert turned back to his computer, and then snapped
back to Morag.  "Ummm . . . do you want to be a man, Morag? 
If this works, we could do it, you know.  You've seen what we
did with Matt."

West thought he saw a moment's hesitation from Morag, but then
she smiled at him.  "Nay, Doctor.  For all my combat skills
and size, I am happy as I am.  I have earned what I am, such
as it tis."  

"Very wise, I am sure.  Well, come over here and we'll get our
samples, then you can go back to your duties."

~--------------~

Outside the logistics gate of the BioCybernetics compound, a
large air/ground delivery vehicle settled.  The young guard in
the protected enclave noted its arrival in his log and moved
toward the communicator, intending to report the unusual
occurrence to the command center.

He never made it.

The side of the grav-truck opened and two large tubes
appeared.  An instant later, the gates and the secured enclave
were in shambles, and the young guard was dead.  At that same
instant, an air transport was zeroing in on Robert's
laboratory.  Its heavy energy weapons discharged, surgically
opening entry holes through which a small team of black-
suited, armed raiders raced through.

The attack achieved its goal of total surprise.  That far
inside the compound, only one or two members of the security
force were on scene near the facility, and they had no more
chance than the gate guard.  Within moments, the invaders had
killed or disabled the access control guards and had gained
unopposed control of Robert's lab.

"Move!" ordered the officer commanding the small attack force
of ten operatives.  "We have no more than two minutes before
reinforcements will be on the scene.  Data-Team!  Get into the
lab and get the main computer core.  Our scientists will break
their codes back at base.  Number 2!  Take your squad and make
sure the building is secure.  I will go to the main lab with
the data-team."

"On it, chief!" responded another of the black-garbed
combatants as the group split into two teams, one following
each speaker. 

Bob West heard the explosions outside and turned his
workstation to the security circuits.  A quick scan showed
that there was no hope that the invaders would be stopped
before they reached his lab. *I have to protect THE Project,*
he thought. *That's the only reason they would be hitting us
here and not the advanced technology development labs where
all Matt's secret QuantCha technologies are being tested.*

The opposition's data-team burst into Robert's lab just as he
was trying to key the destruct sequence into his private
workstation.  "STOP!" ordered the leader, but Robert kept at
his task.  His hand was moving to the execute key when a
bright red beam lanced out from the leader's hand weapon.

Robert was dead before his hand could depress the actuation
key as the laser cut through his back and vaporized his heart. 
"Get the core, team," the leader ordered before beginning to
check the lab itself.

"What's this?" the leader asked, picking up a bottle marked
'FtoM Transition Treatment - Morag MacPherson - Tissue Culture
Testing ONLY!'. 

She was about to look at the other two bottles when one of the
tech-teamers called, "Number One?"   Pocketing the bottle, she
turned to toward the technician who was moving Robert's body.

"What is it?"

"We can get the main core, but your shot went right through
his body and fried the central core of this small desk unit. 
Whatever was in here is trashed."

"Any chance it can be recovered?"

"None, Number One.  Your laser blast killed off most of the
bio-circuits when you killed him.  There's nothing recoverable
left alive in there."

"Damn.  All right, can't be helped.  Get your team and let's
get the main core back to the transport.  We've only got a few
more seconds here anyway."

"Right."

Moments later, the transport was lifting, and making it's high
speed escape.  Three security force airsleds lifted only a few
seconds later, intent on following the invader.  Their
intercept track took them directly over the demolished
logistics gate security enclave.  Five seconds after lifting,
the interceptor ships were shattered, burning hulks, victims
of the same energy weapon that had started the attack by
destroying the gate.

~------------~

Morag MacPherson had been coming out of the ladies room when
the attack on the lab facility had started.  She silently
unholstered her sidearm and fingered off the safety as she
watched the enemy strike team maneuver.  Morag's finger itched
on the activator switch for her blaster, but she held her
fire. There were simply too many of them for her to shoot
individually and since they all wore battle armor, her
weapon's wide angle fire mode would be ineffective.  They
*might* get a mild case of radiation burn, but nothing that
would incapacitate them.  On the other hand, unarmored as she
was, Morag knew she'd be dead before she got halfway through
them.

Quietly, she maneuvered to a place where she could eavesdrop
on the attackers.

"Number One," an electronic voice squawked.  "Building is
secure, but we've got activity to the east.  Estimated at less
than platoon strength. I'd say we have at most sixty seconds
left before this turns into a fire fight."

"Understood, Number Two," one of the figures in the lab
responded.  "Evacuate the building, and prepare to cover the
data-team's egress.  We're done here."

"Roger.  We'll be in covering position in twenty seconds."

Morag watched as the members of the team in the lab began a
very orderly, disciplined withdrawal. *These gals are damned
well trained,* Morag thought to herself.  *What the hell do I
do now?*

It probably wasn't a good idea.  In fact, Morag *knew* it was
damned stupid, but the one thing they did not know was
precisely *who* they were up against.  Lack of good
intelligence had been hampering BioCybernetics' ability to
counter these people since the very beginning of this caper.

She moved toward the door, hoping to take down the last woman
as a prisoner, but the team was just too good at mutual
support - her buddy had her too well covered. *Okay, what's
plan b?* 

Morag rechecked her weapon, and then slipped back out the back
door of the lab, racing around to find where the team had
headed when they left the lab.  Out a window, she saw the big
transport, and the members of the attack team setting up a
covering position as they began loading whatever it was that
they had stolen onto the craft.  A quick glance toward the
security barracks showed that a retaliation team had mustered,
but Morag's experienced eye told her that they would not
arrive at the scene in time to stop the invaders' escape.

*Have they covered both sides of the transport?* she asked
herself.  *Don't see how many more could fit in that thing . .
. not with every mother's daughter of them wearin' that much
battle gear.*

Thought became deed, and in seconds, Morag was outside,
circling around the transport.  As she'd surmised, there
hadn't been anyone covering the offside of the craft, but
there was a door of some type.  It looked too small to be an
access.  Morag raised her weapon and shot away the door's
locking mechanism.  The door popped open to reveal a tool
cabinet.  It was small, but Morag quickly cleared away the
tools and jumped inside, folding herself into as tiny a
package as she could.  She reached out, and pulled the door
shut just as the craft lifted.

*Oh god.  What happens if we send up those damned modified
airsled interceptors of Donovan's to shoot this thing down???*

Chapter 19: Damage Control

Cat's face was coldly emotionless as she took the report from
her security watch supervisor.  "Chief, whoever they were,
they were pros and they had it planned down to a gnat's ass. 
They had damned good intelligence, too, because they knew what
they wanted and where to get it.  Less than four minutes from
when they took out the gate four enclave to clear their
approach axis to the Med lab until they were on their way back
out.  They even had an anti-aircraft vehicle to cover their
retreat which meant they knew about our supposedly secret
little air force.  It was a perfectly planned and executed op
and they caught us with our pants down.!"

"Casualty report," Cat ordered stonily.

"Three dead at Gate Four.  Three armed airsleds were sent up
as interceptors and were downed by ground fire, six dead.  So
far, we know of eight dead scientists and two dead security
officers at the Med lab, but we haven't finished our search
there since we are having to worry about booby traps," the
watch officer went silent for a moment, and Cat immediately
picked up on it.

"Give me all of it, Davies."

"Yes, Ma'am.  Dr. West is one of the confirmed dead.  And,"
Cat heard Mandy's joked gasp behind her.  "Boss?  MacPherson
is recorded as being in the building, too, but we haven't
found her yet."

"Ms. Donovan!" a new voice broke in.  "High stress levels
noted on the patient.  Should I call in a doctor?"

Cat turned to face the nurse's station, and for the first
time, noticed that it wasn't the usual day nurse.  They'd long
ago dispensed with the drug belt and restraint system, but at
Bob West's wheedling, they'd kept some simple monitoring
equipment discreetly attached to Mandy's body.  Cat saw the
look on Mandy's face, made a quick judgement.  "Not yet," she
ordered.  "But keep an eye on her readings." *Besides,* she
thought grimly, *Bob was the only physician who was fully
briefed on Operation Mandy, and most of the other MD's worked
in Bob's lab anyway.  Who the hell would we call?* 
Resolutely, she turned back to the security screen.  "Anything
else?  Any idea where they went?"

For her own part, Mandy had to literally bite her tongue to
keep from telling the nurse who was in charge.  One thing she
was going to have to fix and soon was this inclination of
people to defer to Cat when Mandy was there with her Security
Chief.  *Just because she's over six feet tall and eats nails
for breakfast,* Mandy fumed quietly.  *She's not THAT scary,
is she?*  Sighing quietly, Mandy turned her attention back to
the Security Watch Officer's report to Cat.

"No, Ma'am," he continued.  "They took out our sensor arrays
when they took out Gate Four, and by the time we scrambled the
rest of the armed airsleds, there wasn't anything to track. 
Like I said earlier, whoever planned this one is very, very
good, Ma'am, and they had really high grade intelligence on
our layout here and our response plans."

"All right.  Send out some operatives to see if they can find
anything, see if anyone on the outside saw something -
ANYTHING - we can use.  Let me know when our perimeter is
secure again."

The screen went blank.  "Damn me for an UTTER FOOL!!" Cat
swore as she slammed a fist into the desk.  "I *knew* we'd
been infiltrated, and I made the grossly amateurish mistake of
thinking they'd never take direct action.  Besides, *I*  was
too damned busy tracking ghost-moles to even think of
reviewing and modifying our main security plan."

"Robert, Cat?  Robert is dead?" Mandy's voice asked softly,
breaking into Cat's self reproach.

"That's what Davies said, Mandy.  And Davies is too good an
operator to make a report like that without being absolutely
sure of the situation.  Damn it!  I never thought they'd take
direct action against us like this.  They'd been so careful to
keep themselves in the shadows before this."

Mandy wanted to weep, wanted to rail against fate, wanted to
mourn her friend, but the cold, rational mind that was still
Matthew Sorenson wouldn't let her.  "They've taken my life,
Cat.  They almost took my company and the fruits of almost
thirty years of hard work and brain sweat.  But now, they've
taken my best friend, and by all the gods, Cat, they don't
take another thing or person that is dear to me.  It's time we
started taking from *them*!"

"Big words, sweetie," Cat said dully, "but we still don't know
anything more than we knew before they hit us.  We are still
in reaction mode and they still hold the tactical control of
the situation."

"Wrong, Cat," Mandy said firmly, and was just a bit smugly
satisfied to see the nurse goggle at her. *Might as well start
as I mean to go, and dammit, I AM the majority owner of this
company.* "We know quite a bit more than we knew before this."

"Do we?" Cat asked caustically.  "I wish you'd enlighten me
because I still feel like a god damned mushroom here."

"We've got an enemy who has, as you said, been assiduously
covert up until now."

"Well, they sure as hell aren't acting covertly anymore. 
Guess we know that much."

"But, think, Cat.  *WHY* are they suddenly acting overtly?"
Mandy asked her friend.

Cat thought for a minute.  "Because they don't think they need
to act in secrecy anymore?"

"Or because they think they are ready to move on to whatever
their real objective is, and that is a more direct operation. 
However, we very likely know something more than that, too."

"What's that?"

"Once we figure out why they hit us, we will have a better
idea what their objective entails.  Like your man said, the
people who hit the Med Lab were pros.  You don't mount that
type of operation without a clear objective.  We need to
figure out precisely what it is they went in there looking
for."

Cat closed her eyes and quietly cursed.  "Right.  How is it,
Mandy, that I'm the spook here, and *you're* the one who is
thinking like one?"

A wry smile crossed Mandy's face.  "Mandy's trying to have a
breakdown, Cat, but Matt is pissed off, and ready to kill
someone.  He won't let Mandy have her crying jag until whoever
did this to Bob has paid, big time."

"That pretty face is really easy to underestimate, girl. 
Okay, just a sec."  Cat went back to the workstation and
ordered her security watch officer to report as soon as the
Med Lab was safe to enter.  When she turned back, she saw
Mandy wiggling into her combat suit.  "Hey, what is this?"

"I'm going with you, Cat.  No one knows what Bob was up to in
there better than I do.  I am not the medical type, but I
designed all of his technical gear.  I might see something no
one else would recognize."

Cat was about to argue and turned to the nurse.  "Nurse,
vitals?"

"Flat, Ms. Donovan.  If I didn't know better, I would swear
she was on blockers."

"Can you monitor her if she is in the Med Lab?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay," Cat responded, recognizing that Mandy was right. 
Then, she thought of something.  "By the way, where is
Richards?"

"Teri called in sick today, Ms. Donovan, and asked if I would
take her watch today.  I normally do the swing shift."

Cat felt her blood turn to ice as she stared at the nurse with
an intensity that made the smaller woman nearly cringe.  She
spun back to the terminal and immediately had Davies back on
screen.  "Nurse Teri Richards did not show up for work today. 
It might be a coincidence, but then again, it might not be.  I
want an armed team at her quarters in fifteen minutes and I
want her brought to the compound.  Got that, Davies?"

"Got it, Boss.  Ummm . . . do we have any legal authority for
this?" he asked quietly.

"Not that I know of, Davies.  Call in Jacobs for legal damage
control, but do it after you dispatch the team.  We may not
have time to fool around with this."

"On it, Boss," he replied as his figure winked out.

Cat turned to face a stony-faced Mandy.  "These people have
shown a talent for disappearing when they need to, and Nurse
Teri not being at work for the first time in my memory on the
very day we get hit like this is just too much of a
coincidence.  If it turns out I'm wrong . . . "

"I'll pay the punitive damages and consider myself ahead of
the deal, Cat," replied Mandy.  "Now, let's get over to the
Lab and see what we can figure out."

Cat nodded once before turning back to her desk.  She opened
up a drawer and pulled out a holster belt and a hand blaster. 
She carefully checked that the weapon was fully charged and
that the safety was on before handing it to Mandy.  "We don't
know that the bad guys have all left, kid," she said with
quiet emphasis.

Mandy accepted the weapon and also checked that it was loaded
and on safe.  "Well, if we see one, I will make sure I only
shoot to disable him.  I have a lot of hard questions I want
answered, and I don't much care how hard I have to be when I
ask them."

"If it comes down to a shootout, girl, you shoot to kill, read
me?" Cat ordered, her hand locked on Mandy's shoulder.

"It won't come to that, Cat, because I don't intend to give
Bob's killers a chance to shoot, and the sons of bitches will
only *wish* they were dead."

Cat thought about saying something more, but the look in
Mandy's eyes forestalled her.  She pulled another weapon out
of her desk and fitted the belt around her waist.  "Let's go,
then."

~---------------~

The flight was oddly short, Morag thought as the transport
settled with a slight bounce.  Either the craft was very, very
fast, or where ever they had landed was extremely close to the
company compound.  Since there didn't seem to be anything
about the airship that was out of the ordinary for a military
attack craft, that meant that the bad guys', or rather, the
bad girls' hidey-hole was in the same basic locale as the
BioCybernetics compound.

*I have to wait for them to clear away,* Morag thought, *and
then see if I can contact Cat.  Damn me for a fool, doing this
without any type of communicator.*

Suddenly, the door to her own hiding place snapped open and
Morag found herself looking out at what seemed to be hundreds
of blaster barrels.  "The pilot knew as soon as the door
opened, stupid," the voice Morag recognized as 'Number One'
said mockingly.  "But we had to keep to our time-table, and
since you couldn't do anything except hold on for dear life
inside that little cubby-hole, we decided to proceed to base. 
Tell me, fool, do you have a preferred way of dying?  Since
you are female, we can probably accommodate you that much at
least.  Now get out of there.  The Leader wants to meet you,
and wish you . . . sweet dreams."

Chapter 20: Tried, Judged, Sentenced and Executed

Mandy let Cat take the lead once they arrived at the Med Lab. 
Cat's security forces were still searching the less traveled
parts of the building for any survivors, for the dead and for
booby-traps.  With purposeful speed, the strikingly beautiful
pair of women made their way to Bob's lab where they were met
by Davies.

"The police are on their way, Boss.  They've asked us to
preserve the crime scene, but I put them off by telling them
that we had to enter the lab to ensure that there wasn't
anything hazardous in there."

"Good thinking, Tom," Cat approved.  "Any indications they
might have left us a nasty surprise or two?"

"Not in there.  Dr. West's Lab was heavily instrumented
because he often did play with bio-hazmat stuff.  There's
nothing in there that wasn't there this morning . . . with the
exception of his blood, that is."

"Yeah," Cat growled.  "Look, we're going in.  Delay the cops
as long as you can while we try to figure out what they were
after and what they got."

"No problem, Boss," Davies replied, and then lifted his hand
to his ear implant, his face taking on that look of someone
concentrating heavily.  He barked an acknowledgment before
turning his eyes back to Cat.  "That was the away team, Cat. 
Richards' apartment is empty.  The team leader thinks that the
place has been given a thorough cleaning, too.  If it wasn't
for the almost antiseptic smell, he'd have sworn the place had
been uninhabited for months."

"DAMN!" Cat swore.

Mandy only nodded.  "Okay, so Bob's Lab is our only lead. 
Let's go get to work, Cat."

~-----------------~

Whoever *they* were, *they* had trained these stormtroopers
too damned well, Morag thought yet again.  The body search
they'd visited upon her once they'd pried her cramped body out
of that tool hold had been thorough and quick.  About the only
thing they hadn't done was strip her down to her skin and give
her a cavity search, but she figured that was only a matter of
time.  Besides, the arm and wrist restraints they'd used on
her had her hands safely locked into the small of her back. 
No way to pull any rabbits out of that particular pair of hats
without the hands to do it.

Once she was safely restrained, the leader had designated four
of the attack team to escort her.  Escort, hell, they'd all
but herded her out of the huge hanger facility into a series
of labyrinth-like halls.  Even with her training, Morag was
not all that sure she could find her own way back to the
hanger without making at least one wrong turn along the way.

Eventually, they came into a largish room set up like a
conference area with a large table in the center, and a
seating gallery along the walls.  Morag took stock of the
room. *Odd,* she thought.  *Not an empty chair in the place
except for the one at the head of the table.*

"Team Leader Dorcus reporting to the Council," the woman in
charge reported formally.  "Our mission was a complete
success, however, we did pick up an uninvited passenger," and
here she shoved the bound Morag forward, "along the way."

"MORAG!" a shocked voice squealed in the gallery. 

Morag spun and was stunned to see a familiar face - stunned
and then instantly furious that her *friend*, Teri Richards,
was part of this.  The woman she'd been considering as a lover
in violation of the Church and all its teachings.  Pain
amplified her fury still further, and Morag lost control. 
"You lying, traitorous BITCH!" she snarled.  Without thinking
of the consequences, she tried to leap towards Teri, intent on
doing what she couldn't say, but she never got there.  A well
placed foot sent her tumbling hard to the floor, her face
bouncing off the tiles since she'd been helpless to catch
herself without her arms bound behind her. 

Rough hands pulled her back to her feet just in time to see a
shimmering light suffuse the empty chair at the head of the
table.  A oddly indistinct female body materialized before
Morag's eyes.  "Well done, team leader," an oddly detached
voice sounded when the figure moved its lips.  Then, she
turned her attention toward the gallery where Teri was seated. 
"You know this person, Florence?"

Morag was surprised when Teri answered to that name.  "Yes,
Leader.  She is Morag MacPherson.  She is assigned to the
security team that guards the inner quarters where Sorenson
has been staying since her transition."

The name evidently keyed something in the team leader's
memory, because she reached into one of the pockets of her
combat suit and pulled out the little amber bottle she'd
picked up in the Med Lab.

The Leader evidently saw this, and turned back to the woman
guarding Morag.  "What have you there, Team Leader?"

"A bottle, Leader, with some type of liquid in it.  Evidently,
it is intended for this MacPherson woman because it has her
name on it."

"Bring it here, Team Leader," was the immediate snapped order. 
She did, and the figure of the Leader looked at the bottle
closely.  "Well, it appears that the good Dr. West was getting
ready to test his new process, and was going to use it on
tissue samples taken from our unwilling guest."  She turned to
look at the woman seated at her right hand.  "Freuda, our
transition facility is complete and ready to test, is it not?"

"Yes, Leader," the woman responded.

"Excellent.  Take this bottle and this woman and use them for
our first full scale test.  Let us see if Dr. West has in fact
corrected his earlier error."

"But, Leader!"  Morag heard Teri's frantic voice.  "Morag is a
woman, just like us.  That drug might well kill her.  We all
swore an oath to advance womankind."

"She is a pawn of the Male-Dominated Politico-Industrial
Complex, Florence, and will oppose us.  Since she now knows
us, she will be a threat to us and to all real women. 
Sometimes, even the innocent must suffer for the greater
good."

"But why even test the female to male drug, Leader?  Isn't our
plan to transition key males into women, and thus force them
to accept womanhood . . . understand that women are just as
capable and as intelligent as men?"  

"Florence, the decision is made!  Do you dispute my
authority?" the Leader thundered.

Teri looked like she wanted to, but understood how dangerous
her position was, and subsided, shaking her head in
acquiescence.  "No, Leader," she said softly.

"Very well, then.  I will explain.  Our goals are unchanged,
but it occurs to me that the possibility of a safe
retransition back to being male might be just the inducement
some of our soon-to-be unwilling sisters need to help them see
the light.  Of course, they'll never quite earn it, but if we
can prove our ability to change a transformed sister back into
a man, say by videoing Ms. MacPherson's experiences, our great
plan might be made easier.  Not only that, a brave sister
might accept transition to the masculine gender in order to
replace a key official or two, and thus advance our cause that
way.  No, there are very sound strategic and tactical reasons
to test Dr. West's new process, and since we have a
'volunteer' and a treatment, I see no reason to delay."  She
turned back to the woman she'd called Freuda.  "Prepare the
facility and begin at once."

The woman nodded, and stood.  "Team Leader, follow me and
bring your prisoner."

Morag fought this time, but to little point.  A well placed
blaster butt knocked her senseless long enough for her to be
taken to the facility and sedated.  *She* would never wake up.

~------------------~

Chapter 21: Rebirth Again

Cat and Mandy entered Bob's lab, and were immediately assailed
by the tableau, which still included Robert West's inert form
hunched over his terminal.  Cat, more used to death than Matt
or Mandy, stood stoically as Mandy fought to control her grief
and fury.  She awkwardly put her arm around the smaller
woman's shoulder, and felt Mandy momentarily lean into the
contact.  Then she pulled away, and began to scan the disarray
that had been, up until a mere hour previous, a highly
organized and sanitary facility.

"I can do this, Mandy," Cat said softly.  "You don't have to
deal with this.  It is, after all, what you pay me for."

"Wish I could do that, lady, but I can't - for a couple of
reasons.  First, my main argument hasn't changed - there's no
one else left who understands the big picture and a lot of the
pieces as well as I do.  I might see something no one else
would recognize."

Cat nodded grimly and sighed.  "And the other reason?"

"He was my best friend for more than twenty five years.  I owe
my life to him, such as it is, and those . . . those animals
*killed* him.  Until they pay . . . until I understand *why*
they did it, I won't be able to rest."

"Understood," Cat affirmed.  "But you understand that we may
never know the reason?  This isn't an adventure tele-novel,
little girl.  This is the real world, and the sad truth is
that the real world isn't very big on 'happily ever after'."

Mandy went very silent, her face darkening, then she shook her
head violently.  "I can't accept that, Big Cat.  They have to
have made a mistake, and I won't rest until I find it and make
them pay."

"Okay, boss.  What do we look at first?"

"Let's look at his body first, Cat.  I . . . I don't want him
just . . . sitting there.  I know it's stupid and emotional,
but I want him . . . I want him put to rest."

As one, the pair moved to where Bob still sat.  Carefully, Cat
checked over the physical evidence.  She shook her head.  "One
shot, perfectly aimed or very damned lucky, Mandy, and I don't
believe in luck."

Gently, they pulled him away and laid him down on the floor,
out of the way.  "Wonder what he was doing, Cat," Mandy mused. 
"He had to know he was under attack, and yet, he stood his
ground."

Cat nodded, then sighed.  "Well, the same shot that got him
blew a hole in his work station.  Any chance we can recover
what was stored in it?"

Mandy looked inside the box, and then turned away, frustration
evident in her face. "Everything inside this box is dead . . .
fried."

"Crap.  Can't even see what was on the screen.  It's dead,
too."

"Wait a minute!" Mandy said.  She spun around, obviously
looking for something.  "There!" she yelled and ran over to a
light fixture and came back with it.  "Black light," she
explained as she came back to stand in front of the terminal. 
"Security!" she yelled.  "Darken the room!"

The lights went out almost instantly and an eerie black-purple
glow radiated from the light fixture.  "The screen works by
biologics, too, Cat.  Emitting light for the screen characters
stress the bio-phosphor.  Black light will be absorbed by the
phosphor differently depending on how recently stressed it is
in different areas."

Slowly, the screen began to luminesce, and characters began to
form.  It meant less than nothing to Cat, but one corner of
the screen caught Mandy's attention, and she very carefully
concentrated the black light there.

"Damn," she said quietly.

"What?" Cat demanded.

"He was in the process of trying to dump the main computer
cores of every system in the compound.  See that command
sequence up there?"  Mandy pointed to a series of characters. 
"Well, add a 666-9999.exe to that string, and every bio-
computing component in the company connected to the bio-
network commits suicide.  The Number of the Beast, and the old
20th century trap code."

"Okay, so now we know how, and the immediate why of his death,
although not the strategic why."  Cat wandered around the lab
thinking.  "We will have to let the cops in here soon, Mandy. 
They are at least as well equipped as we are to look for
physical evidence.  Do we tell them what we are really doing
here?"

"Would it really help them, Cat?"

She wandered over to a lab table and picked up one of two
amber bottles.  "Probably not," she said as she read the label
on the bottle.  "Omigod," she whispered and then read the
other bottle.  "Mandy?" she called.

"Yes?"

"Didn't Bob say he wanted to do tissue samples on you, me and
Morag last night?  To test his new process?"

Mandy came over to stand beside her security chief.  "Yes,
why?"

Cat handed Mandy the two bottles.  "Then why are there only
two bottles marked transition formulae?  One for you, one for
me."

"None for Morag?" 

"Not immediately obvious, Mandy, and more importantly, no
Morag."

"You don't think . . . "

"I don't know, girl.  But I think we'd better find her,
quickly."

"Okay.  Get the cops in here.  Keep an eye on what's going on,
and if you think knowing the whole truth will materially help
them, no matter how little, brief them in."

~-------------~

The holo of the Leader shimmered into being in Freuda's
private office.  Teri was there with the other woman as the
primary medical support person for Morag's transition.

"It has been two days since you administered the transition
treatment to that woman, Freuda.  What is the status of the
experiment?"

Freuda looked at her datapad.  "The subject is about 90% male. 
She, or rather he, has the gonads of a pre-pubescent male, and
her female organs have just about been . . . well . . .
absorbed into the surrounding tissue is as close as I can come
to describing what has happened.  The labia majora are almost
completely grown together forming a scrotum containing what
seems to be vestigial testicles.  And at the rate he is
maturing, I would expect him to be fully potent in another 12
to 36 hours."

"What about physical size - height, weight, etc.?"

"He's grown five inches in height.  Not much weight change,
but even with the nutrient baths and IV's, he can't possibly
assimilate sufficient proteins and other nutrients to build up
any comparable muscle mass.  I would say that will . . . or
rather would take, several carefully supervised months of
post-transition treatment before he would begin to reach his
full potential."

"But the subject *will* survive?"

Freuda turned to Teri who nodded.  "Dr. West said that if a
subject was going to . . . suffer DNA breakdown, it occurred
within the first ten hours after administration of the
treatment.  Based on this, I expect the subject to survive the
transition."

"Excellent, Florence," the Leader said jovially.  "And I am
glad to see you as I have a question.  What are the security
arrangements for getting into that central enclave you worked
in?  Where they kept Sorenson?"

Teri shrugged.  "A few checkpoints, but most of the security
is DNA-based.  There are about five locked doors that only
open if your DNA matches the precise genome of someone on the
access list."

The Leader nodded.  "Well, our watchers report that a security
team from BioCybernetics have been at your apartment looking
for you, so I think it is safe to assume that your DNA is no
longer on the approved access list."  The holographic face
smiled.  "Very well, Florence, that will be all.  I need to
speak with Frueda.  Alone."

"Yes, Leader," Teri murmured, and then let herself out of
Freuda's office.

Chapter 22: A New Woman

An obviously exhausted Mandy looked up from her work station
as Cat Donovan entered the room.  "You paged me, Mandy?" she
asked as she swung her long frame into a nearby chair.

The Big Cat looked as tired as she felt, Mandy thought
blearily.  Neither of them had gotten more than 3 hours sleep
in the fifty plus hours since the attack that had resulted in
Bob's death - Cat had probably gotten considerably less than
that.

She sighed softly and forced her leaden brain to focus.  "Yes. 
I know what they got when they hit us."

"I thought we already knew all that," Cat retorted. 
"Everything Bob had done since the moment you pointed him at
that dual gene solution, which gives them everything," she
said wearily, only to catch the peculiar look on Mandy's face. 
"Didn't they?"

Mandy chuckled.  "You'd certainly think so to look at the file
directories.  Almost all of Bob's Project-coded files show
recent updates, and most of them are dated the day of the
attack."

Cat sagged back into her seat.  "So, why did you call me?"

"Because the updates are bogus.  Bob was evidently playing
games with the system."

"Boss, I am one tired trooper just now, okay?  My head is
running too slow for these games.  Spell it out for me, in
easy words, if you can manage it."

"Right.  Look, I am as surprised as anyone because Bob always
pretended he hated computers and refused to have anything more
to do with them than he absolutely had to, but I guess he's
picked up a few tricks in his years with me, and *this* one is
a dilly.  Okay, after I checked the files still in the main
core, I went back and pulled out our recent backups and tried
to see what had changed and basically, it was everything. 
Scared the hell out of me.  But then, I realized that the
listed files sizes of a few key files I looked at had not
changed, even though their dates had changed."

"Well, small changes don't always change the listed file size
all that much . . . not when you are dealing gigameg files,
Mandy.  Even I know that."

"True enough, but then I noticed that none of Bob's files had
changed size . . . not even the ones that weren't all that
large, so I started running bit-by-bit file comparisons using
the files listed in the main core and any available backups. 
Guess what?  None of Bob's have changed since my own
transition.  The sly old dog has been putting up copies of his
old, unaltered files into the main so the date in the
directory would change.  Obviously, he didn't trust our new
and improved security system after the original system
compromise."

Cat thought about that, and then looked at Mandy.  "But,
Mandy, he said he'd worked out a fix he wanted to test. 
Hell," she said pointing at two amber bottles on Mandy's desk,
"he was ready to test the fix.  I don't understand much of
what goes on here, but I do know there's no way he could have
done something like that without computer support."

Mandy sighed and pushed away from her desk.  "Of course he
needed computer support, and he had it.  That lash up he
insisted we put into his lab was as powerful as the main
system for the rest of the compound.  We justified that
expenditure for controlling the transitions.  It was
independent of the main system, so any load on that system
would not slow the monitoring and control functions for the
transition, but if the med system went down, we could use the
main system as backup."

"So you think he was doing his work on his lab computer, and
not updating the main system?"

"Only answer that fits the data, Cat.  Problem is we don't
know any of the details of what he discovered.  We just know
he thought he had discovered the answer to our problem.  Well,
at least that means the bad guys don't know his solution,
either.  They killed their chance at getting their answers
when the shot that killed Bob took out his computer system,
too."

"Wait-a-minute!  You said you used backups to find out what
Bob was doing.  Don't they back up the med system?"

Mandy considered that. "I am sure they do, but the "they" in
that case were Bob's folks because we included backup
capability in his system, too.  We figured anything he had was
just too important to miss backing up.  The question is, Cat,
is where the hell are the backups?"

"We've turned that place upside down, Boss, and we haven't
found a thing.  Looks like the opposition might have won after
all."

"Noooooo," Mandy replied speculatively.  "Bob knew that
backups are kept off site when possible and he knew why.  If
he made a conscious decision to keep his data secure from the
main system, he'd have kept the backups somewhere else, too."

"I'll get a team on it, Boss.  There can't be too many places
he'd consider safe enough for that kind of data."

"Okay," Mandy agreed.  "I just wish there was more we could do
at this point.  I am exhausted, pissed off and feeling
helpless, Cat, and I really, really hate it."

"Join the club, sister.  Why don't you get a few hours of down
time?  I will hit the rack myself as soon as I get Davies on
this backup thing."

"Dammit, Cat!" shouted a suddenly furious Mandy.  "It's been
almost three days since they hit us, and we still aren't any
closer to finding Morrie!  How the hell can I just go to bed? 
How the hell can *you* just go to bed?"

"Mandy?" cut in Cat in a dangerously quiet voice.  "She was
mine, too, okay?  And I am the one who assigned her to Project
Mandy, so I understand what you're feeling.  But the bottom
line is that you *will* go rest, as will I, because we won't
be any damned good to anyone, least of all Morag, if we are
too damned tired to think clearly when the time calls for it."

She started to respond, but caught the look in Cat's eyes and
came up short.  "Sorry, Cat.  That was uncalled for, and you
are right."

"S'okay.  C'mere, Mandy," Cat ordered.  

Mandy moved toward the bigger woman slowly, only to find
herself enveloped in a strong embrace.  Instinctively, Mandy
brought her arms up around Cat's waist and held on for dear
life as the tears she'd kept bottled up inside for more than
two days finally burst free.

~--------------~

"What I don't understand, Leader, is why we just don't destroy
the BioCybernetics compound with a bomb or something," Freuda
said.  "We know we can do what we set out to do, and if their
capability to undo our work is a hazard to us, a low order
nuclear weapon will solve that problem permanently.  Why do we
need to attempt this covert mission to infiltrate
BioCybernetics and kill Donovan and Sorenson?"

"Because it would call too much attention to them and their
work.  Sorenson is too smart not to have his critical data
mirrored at other, unknown sites.  The first politico who
could convince the public what we'd done to him will likely
activate whatever plan he and Jacobs have hatched, and all
their, or rather *our* secrets would become public.  And very
likely countered, too."

"It's still very risky," Freuda warned.

"The greater the risk, the greater the reward.  In this case,
the reward would be BioCybernetics - with all their secrets
and technologies intact.  Think of what we could do with all
of that, Freuda."

"So, you are determined to go through with this?"

"Of course.  Unless the required data isn't in the stolen data
core?"

"It's there.  West even updated the file when he discovered
his solution to the survivability problem.  The day he died,
in fact."

"Very well, prepare the transition treatment.  I will be here,
in the flesh, in two hours."

"Everything will be ready, Leader."

Chapter 23: Estrangement

"MacPherson's transition is complete, Freuda," Florence said
as she entered the other woman's office.

The older woman looked up from the file she was studying and
gave Teri a hard look.  *She's changed so much in the past
years,* Teri thought to herself.  *Where is the smile that
used to greet me when ever I would come to see her at school,
and call her up on the televid?*

"And your point is, Florence?"

*She won't even call me by my given name anymore she is so
caught up in this feminist counter-insurgency movement of
hers.  It's like we're playing secret agents against the space
marauders instead of trying to make the world better and safer
than it is.*  "We need to consider what we are going to do
about her.  We can't leave her under the sedation
indefinitely.  Even with our modern techniques, eventually
she's going to suffer brain damage from the continuation of
this chemically induced coma."

"*She*??  You just said transition was complete, did you not?"
Freuda asked coldly.  

"Well, yes . . . "

"Then *he* is no longer a female.  I don't particularly care
if *he* suffers brain damage.  Even when he was female, he was
a threat to us.  When the Leader completes transition, she
will decide MacPherson's fate, but until that time, we will
keep her sedated so that she is not a danger to our cause.  Is
that understood, Florence?"

"But, Freddie . . . "

"Do NOT call me that!" Freuda snapped.  "Doctor of Psychiatry
Fredricka Van Damme is no longer among us.  Only Freuda of the
New Women's Order remains, and that is how you and everyone
else will address me, regardless of our relationship in our
former lives.  Is that understood, Florence?"  

Teri shuddered at the vehemence in her old mentor's voice, and
the strange light in her eyes, but nodded her assent.

"Very well, then.  Do you understand your orders with respect
to MacPherson?"

"Yes, Freuda, I understand them, and I will obey them."  *For
now, anyway,* she thought grimly.  *For now.*

"Excellent.  And how long do you estimate it will be for the
Leader's transition?"

"Another day or so, I would think," Teri answered carefully. 
"Physically, the Leader's old and new forms are much closer in
size than MacPherson's were, so the transition does not have
to be slowed to allow for the assimilation of the hyperactive
nutrients that allowed MacPherson to grow so much during the
transition to male.  Even though the Leader started two,
almost three days after MacPherson, she should finish a couple
of days sooner."

"Well, keep me informed.  That will be all, Florence."

"Yes, Freuda.

~--------------~

Cat left orders with her security team to wake her instantly
if the need arose.  She and Mandy went down hard for the first
time in nearly seventy two hours.  It was a measure of her own
exhaustion that Cat forgot that Morag's disappearance left
other holes unfilled as well.

~-------------~

"I can't get over it, Leader," a foolishly grinning Freuda all
but gushed.  "You . . . are . . . PERFECT!  Welcome to
womanhood, darling, where you've belonged all your life."

Teri looked on from her watchstation, feeling as if she were
somehow reliving her recent past.  The Leader certainly had
the look of Mandy, right down to the nutrient accelerated hair
growth. *Well, that is to be expected,* she thought,
*genetically, she *IS* Mandy, right down to the smallest amino
acid group.  Except . . .* and here Teri fought not to stare,
*she really doesn't LOOK quite right - like something isn't
just as it should be, but for the life of me, I can't figure
out what it might be.*

For a moment or two, she wondered if she should point out her
concern to the two women seated on the bed, but then decided
against it. *What could I say?  "Sorry, Leader, but I think
there is something wrong about you."  Right, Teri, and get
your head handed to you by Freuda.  And I am not all that sure
that would be a figurative head-handing, either.  Something is
seriously different about her, and that frightens me.*

Grimly, Teri shook her head to ward off those thoughts, and
tried to eavesdrop on the two women.

"I don't know, Freuda.  Do you really think it is necessary? 
The process has still only been successful three times.  Isn't
it enough that I can get us in there?"

"Leader," Freuda said earnestly, "If we are to take control of
Sorenson's company, we have to make things as smooth as
possible.  We've already hit them once, and we're going to hit
them again.  If only Sorenson survives, particularly an attack
that was enough to take out Donovan, it might be an issue for
some of the police types, and Donovan *has* to die.  She's too
bloody dangerous."

"But I still don't see the point in the rest of your idea."

"Look, it was Jacobs who was able to blunt our original thrust
by means of his legal maneuvering.  And we can't leave him
alive - he knows Sorenson too well and he'd figure out
something about you wasn't quite right - eventually.  We'd
have to kill him.  If he dies in yet a third attack, the
compound will be crawling with investigators who might just
figure out what is really going on in there.  But having an
"Adam Jacobs" on our side when you take over the company will
definitely smooth things, particularly with the police, and
will buy us time to consolidate your position at
BioCybernetics."

The Leader went quiet, and then nodded.  "You are sure this is
the correct strategy?  It is a great sacrifice to ask of a
real woman - being made over into a mere man."

"Only for a while.  Now that we have the process, in a year of
so, Jacobs can die of natural causes and it can all be undone. 
Heavens, it can be done better as your own case will attest."

"All right.  We'll do it.  We will move on BioCybernetics as
soon as the transition is complete."

"Leader?  I think you should move now, and have the new Jacobs
join you when my transition is finished."

"That makes no sense.  I will still have to deal with Jacobs,
then."

"You can be injured, or in shock - whatever, but the longer we
wait, the more time they have to recover their wits after our
last attack.  The very last thing they will expect is for us
to come back, again, this soon after the last time."

The woman lying on the bed became quiet and thoughtful. 
Finally, she looked up at Freuda.  "You've given this a great
deal of thought."

"It is my duty to you and to the Order, Leader."

"Very well, then.  Tell the attack team leader.  We will move
tonight."

"Excellent."  Freuda turned to Teri. "Florence, have another
nurse relieve you and meet me in the transition room.  You
have another subject to oversee through the process."

"Yes, Freuda," Teri answered as she buzzed for a relief nurse. 
"Who is going to be changed?" she asked.

"Me," Freuda responded, and then strode out of the room.

~--------------~

Chapter 24: Assault on the Lady's Castle

Five dark shadows closed on the small, makeshift outpost on
the edge of the BioCybernetics compound.  The smallest of the
group put a head over to the group's leader.

"You're sure that we will have the fifteen minutes we need?"
the Mandy-Leader whispered hoarsely.

"As sure as we can be, Leader," the team leader replied, just
as softly.  "They have beefed up their guard force, since they
haven't been able to get the physical security repaired yet. 
We have had them under surveillance since our attack team's
egress.  They check in at random intervals, sometimes at their
initiative, sometimes in response to a call from the command
watch.  Never more than forty five minutes between call-ins,
and only once less than ten minutes - we think that happened
at watch shift change.  In any case, ninety percent of the
reports are at intervals of 18 to 32 minutes."  The team
leader had gone over this with the Leader before they'd left
their own base, but she was used to dealing with nervous
amateurs.  Besides, the woman was simply too powerful.  Last
thing the team leader needed was to piss her Leader off.

The team leader turned her attention back to the small camp
that was her next objective.  Whoever had trained those boys
had done it right.  Nothing provided any illumination that
might guide their weapons, and they never stayed in one place
for any length of time.  Even her directional listening gear
wasn't picking up anything.  There was none of the grab-assing
that might have characterized most civilian security teams. 
These guys were pros.

But then, she thought with some pride, so was she, and she had
trained her operatives pretty damned well, too.  "Point!" she
whispered into her throat mike.  

"Point," the response came back immediately.

"Verify your count on enemy operatives at objective."

"Same as before, One," the former special forces sergeant
answered.  "It's a four man team working in pairs with a team
leader at the main post.  They've got the breech covered in a
classic crossfire kill zone."

"Send me the coordinates for the fire teams and be ready to
take out anyone we miss."

"Roger," the incongruously soft, feminine voice responded. 
Immediately, firing data flowed into the command set.

The team leader turned her night vision gear back on the
command post, wishing she dared use something like an active
sensor.  The team leader was hers, and she had to be certain
he'd just made his check in with his central watch office
before she took him down.  *Patience, Captain,* she warned
herself, instinctively using her former Army rank in the
mental admonishment.

Then, the shadowy figure in her screen went momentarily almost
to attention, and his hand went to the side of his head.  The
team leader spun the gain on her hearing gear to maximum and
was rewarded with a scratchy, "Gatepost four, all clear, out."

Without moving, she took a single breath, aimed and squeezed
off her silenced shot, then triggered the small handheld
device she'd laid next to her.  Her own target had not yet
even fallen to the ground when the two mortar-like tubes
belched out their thirty millimeter projectiles.

Two small bursts of light appeared a couple of meters above
the ground, each about twenty meters from the breech in the
fence.  "Point, report!"

"Point here, Cap'n," she said back, forgetting their new ranks
in the excitement of action.  "Gas deployed perfectly.  All
targets appear down."

*Good girl,* the team leader thought. *Never assume anything
until you know for sure.*  "Point, Two, reconnoiter the two
targets, and ensure all operatives are down."

The only response she got was a pair of "click-click's" over
the radio.  She herself moved out then, to make sure the
opposition leader was also down.  He was.  The drugged dart
had taken him just below the solar plexus.  "He'll be out for
at least twelve hours," she said when the heavily breathing
Leader caught up with her.

"Still . . . don't know . . . why . . . you insisted on . . .
non-lethal weapons," the Leader rasped out with some acerbity.

"Because this won't piss them off as much, and taking care of
their wounded might delay their pursuit if we have to make a
quick bug-out.  They're not likely going to have enough people
on site to do both, and whereas they'd leave the dead behind
to get their killers, they will stop to tend their fallen
comrades."

"One, this is point.  Right objective secured."

"One, this is Two, Left objective secured."

"Roger," she responded.  "Move out to the main objective. 
Shoot anything that moves at this point.  We need to be inside
that building in ten minutes or less and we can't afford a
fire fight."

She got clicks from each of her three troopers and turned to
the Leader.  "Well, Ma'am, now it's time for your part in this
little shindig."

"Let's go," the Leader responded grimly.  "It's past time."

~---------------~

Teri looked at the disgusting mass of primordial slime that
was slowly flowing away from the calcium-based bone structure. 
Only years of nursing kept her from adding to the soon-to-be
sewage by vomiting, but *never* had she seen anything so . . .
so disgusting.

She'd known this was possible.  She'd heard Dr. West
discussing it, but she'd never, not in her worst nightmares,
conceived of anything like this.  And it had happened so
*fast*!  Less than two hours ago, that . . . that pile of pre-
protoplasm had been a living woman, and now . . . whatever
*it* was, it wasn't alive.

*Why don't I feel anything?* Teri asked herself through the
numbing haze. *She used to be such an important, vital part of
my life, and now she's dead.*

Quietly, she let herself out of the chamber and set the
security lock. *Have to think.  What went wrong?  Maybe this
just a stage of the transition and she isn't really dead.* 
Teri shook her head.  *You're dreaming, Richards.  Morag
didn't go through anything like that.  She stayed human-formed
throughout her transition.*

"Oh my god," she breathed, speaking aloud for the first time. 
"Morag!  They'll kill her trying to figure out what didn't go
wrong in her case."  

A guard walked down the corridor.  "Dr. Florence," she said
respectfully, "will you be here tonight?"

"Yes, comrade," Teri responded quickly.  "I have to watch over
Deputy Leader Freuda's treatment and will likely be here until
she is through the more critical phases."

"Yes, Ma'am.  Well, have a good evening.  Call if you need
anything."

Teri sagged against the hall, grateful that the guard had not
heard her words.  *So, Teri, Morag will die. Did you think
they were really going to let her live?* she asked herself.

*But it would have been a clean death,* she argued, *not the
slow death of a lab animal being dissected alive.*

*Dead is dead, girl,* her other voice said harshly.

"But I don't WANT HER *DEAD*!" she said, barely realizing
she'd again spoken aloud.

Brought up short by the force of her own feelings, Teri stared
at the door to the room where the sleeping man who had been
Morag MacPherson lay. *I don't want her dead,* she repeated in
her mind.  *Why?*

And the answer was suddenly there, painfully clear and
irrefutable.  *Because I don't want to live in a world where
she isn't. Because I am in love with her.*

Taking a deep breath, she slipped into her office to plan and
get what she needed.  Whatever she did, it would have to be
done quickly - before the Leader came back and found the
rotting pile of amino acids and carbohydrates that had once
been Freuda Fredricka Van Damme.


Chapter 25: Confrontation: Mandy ‚ Mandy

The insertion team made it to the High Security Lab building
without being challenged and without having to take down any
other unfriendly.

"According to Florence, the main door opens only after a
retinal scan proves the person outside is authorized access. 
There is a security checkpoint just inside the door with at
most two guards.  Are you ready, team leader?"

"As we planned it, Ma'am.  Let's get it done.  Two, Point,
take your positions."

The Mandy-Leader moved up to the door and activated the
retinal scanner.  Two seconds later, the pneumatically
controlled door slid open.

Before the door was fully open, the woman called "Point" dove
to the floor, blocking the door open with her body while she
searched the interior for a target.  Above her, the woman
called "Two" spun into the opening and fired her silenced
dart-gun at one guard just as Point found the other with her
own shot.  Number One followed Two into the room while the
still prone Point covered them.

"Clear," the team leader reported, whereupon the Leader
herself stepped inside.  "One more checkpoint, Ma'am, and then
the last door which is both finger print and retinal scan
code-locked."

"Proceed with the plan, team leader," she ordered.

The team moved off, leaving the Leader to bring up the rear. 
*Dorcus is an excellent tactician,* she thought as she
considered the team leader. *Too bad she will to die tonight. 
Donovan is simply too good at what she does, and it wouldn't
be believable if she didn't take a few of her attackers to
hell with her.*

~------------~

Teri took a deep breath as she pressed the hypo-sprayer to
Morag's bared arm.  This was the final step - there was no
turning back from here.  She'd be absolutely alone -
untrusted, hated and hunted to the death by both sides in this
secret war.  Yet, if she didn't do it, Morag would die.

That decided it.  She pressed the activator and the device
hissed.  Seconds later, oddly familiar eyes in a completely
unfamiliar face fluttered open and shut, then snapped open.  

Teri pressed her hand to Morag's mouth.  "Hush," she
whispered.  "I've managed to get the guards out of the
immediate area, but a male voice will be too unusual not to be
investigated."  Morag's eyes went even wider, and Teri nodded
her understanding.  "Yes, it worked - on you, at least.  You
are fully male."

"Why are you doing this?" Morag managed to get out.

"Because it didn't work on someone else.  She died, and they
would likely use you as a lab rat trying to figure out why.  I
. . . I can't let them do that to you.  Now, enough talk.  I
need you to get into this body bag.  I am going to wheel you
out of here on that gurney to an air car I've got waiting."

"Why should I trust you?  You betrayed us.  You most likely
will just throw that body bag and me into a disposal unit."

"Because if you don't trust me, Morag MacPherson, you will die
anyway, and likely quite painfully and brutally.  At least
with me, you have a semblance of a chance.  And you might have
a chance to help Mandy."

"Mandy?" Morag snarled, his hand snapping up to grab Teri's
chin.

"The Leader has turned himself into a duplicate of Mandy.  She
and an attack team have left for the compound to kill Mandy
and Donovan so that the Leader can take over BioCybernetics."

Morag stared at the woman for a long time, and then began
stepping into the body bag.  A dizzy weakness whirled about
him and he reeled drunkenly.  Teri caught him and helped him
onto the rolling stretcher.  "You're going to be weak, just
like Mandy was.  And your body is now taller and differently
distributed so your balance will be off.  Be careful when you
move."  She reached into her pocket and handed a blaster to
Morag, grip first.  "If you don't hear me call you by name
first, shoot whoever starts to undo that zipper.  Both our
lives may depend on it.  Now, act dead."

It wasn't all that hard to do, Morag thought as the zipper
closed over his head.  She hadn't felt this weak since she'd
stupidly caught the flu because she'd always hated hypo's. 
*And just what, Morag MacPherson, are ye gonna tae do even if
ya manage tae get back ta the company?*

Chapter 26: Cavalry Charge

The last checkpoint fell as easily as the first.  "We have to
move quickly.  We've been lucky so far, but we're overdue for
one of those guard posts to have missed a check in."

The Leader nodded and moved to the final door to Mandy's
secured apartment.  She put her thumb against the touch plate
and looked directly into the retinal scanner.  

Once again the door opened and the attack team went into
action, only to find no one guarding the reception area of
Mandy's apartment.  The team leader made a quick inspection
and hand signaled the others to follow.

The Leader suddenly grinned.  "MacPherson was supposed to be
on watch in here," she whispered.  "Donovan obviously forgot
she needed a replacement when we took her little Scotswoman
plaything."

"We need to finish this quickly, Leader," Number One said. 
"We've got to get Sorenson out of here before any response
team counter attacks."

"Do it!" 

Moving quickly, the team leader and Point moved to Mandy's
room while Number Two and her partner moved to Cat's.  At a
hand signal from the team leader, both pairs burst into the
respective rooms.

Cat's combat trained senses almost saved her.  She was rolling
to one side just as the first stun burst hit her bed.  She
came up shooting, her own weapon on kill, but she wasn't quick
enough to get both attackers.  Number Two's shot took her down
just as Cat was lining up her second shot.

The group gathered in the main lounge.  "Two, what happened?"
Number One demanded.

"She got Ivanova - dead," the tall woman growled as she
dragged the unconscious Cat unceremoniously out of the
bedroom.  "Hell, she almost got me."

A still sleep-muddled Mandy was shocked awake by the sight of
Cat so still.  Grimly, she consciously began trying to shake
off sleep doldrums when she glimpsed the Leader, and saw
herself.  "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

A smug smile lit the Leader's face.  "Why, I am you, Sorenson,
or at least, I will be as soon as we have finished dealing
with you.  And then, all this will be mine as it should have
been weeks ago."

"You've been behind this insanity?" Mandy roared as she
strained to free herself from the grip of the two women who'd
dragged her from her bed.

"Insanity?  Hardly, Sorenson.  Pure genius.  I've been
watching you for almost thirty years, seeing you get credit
for ideas that should have been attributed to me.  Well, now,
I am taking back what should have been mine."

"Thirty years?  Watching me?  I don't understand.  Who the
hell are you?"

The slightly mad smile grew wider.  "Oh, I think I will let
you go to your death wondering about that.  A worthy revenge,
I think.  Number One.  Have your troops strip her of those
clothes for me before they escort her to the air sled.  We
will dispose of her at base.  You remain behind and help me
figure out how to dispose of the great Captain Donovan."

"Yes, Ma'am," she responded, moving over to cover Cat while
her Number Two took Mandy's arm to lead her back to her
bedroom.  "Leader?"

"Yes, Number One?"

"We need to get a move on.  We don't know what kind of nasty
surprises this one," she said gesturing at the fallen Cat with
the barrel of her weapon, "has planned for us, and we don't
need to help her troops by staying in one place."

"Good point," The Leader agreed, and then a very nasty smile
lit her face.  "Wake her up and make her tell us," she
ordered.

That order stunned the team leader and she hesitated.  "Ma'am,
that may not be a very good idea.  That woman is dangerous,
and right now, she's out of the game.  Besides, how do we know
she will tell us anything?"

"Number Two!" the Leader called.  "Bring that bitch back in
here."  At the acknowledgment, the Mandy-Leader smiled at
Number One.  "She'll talk to spare her boss pain.  Administer
the antidote, Number One, and we'll cut off a finger to show
the Great Cat Donovan that we are serious before we ask her
any hard questions."

Uncertainly, the Team Leader put away her dart gun and took
out a blaster before she administered the hyposprayer.  The
effect was almost immediate.  Instantly alert, Cat started to
jump to her feet only to be brought up short by the muzzle of
Number One's blaster.  "Easy, Donovan.  You don't want to die
any sooner than you have to."

~----------------~

"Dammit!" Morag fumed.  "I can't even call for help because
they won't believe I am who I say I am."  She'd . . . no, it
was *he* now. . . he'd been barely able to make it into the
air sled once Teri had gotten her . . . him out of that
medical lab.

"You could just call them and tell them where the attack is,"
Teri pointed out.

Morag considered that.  "They might not believe me and think
the call was a hoax or a diversion.  In either case, they
might not send enough troops to the scene to make a
difference.  No, we have to go there ourselves."

Teri looked at him aghast.  "But you're in no condition to do
anything and I'm not trained for that kind of action."

"I know that, Teri, but think.  If an unauthorized aircraft
violates security, they'll have to send a response team."

"Oh, all right.  Here, take the controls for a minute," Teri
ordered as she rummaged in a bag and pulled out a hypo-
sprayer.  "This contains adrenalized glucose and some other
"uppers".  It will only last for about fifteen or twenty
minutes at the most.  I'll give it to you just as we cross the
security boundaries.  It won't do anything about your balance
problems, but it will take care of the weakness.  At least
until it wears off."

"And then?" Morag couldn't help asking.

"You'll probably pass out and sleep for a day or two."

Morag sighed.  "Sounds like a plan.  Just do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Don't warn me before you hit me with it.  I . . . ahh . . .
well, I don't deal well with shots."

The loud hiss of the hypo was his answer.  "Let's get it done,
Morag."

"Shit, that hurt," he cursed.

~-------------~

They found the open security doors, and the downed guards. 
Furious, Morag swore fluently at the lack of response from
central watch.  "They must be inside the main apartment.  Come
on."

Morag started to put his thumb on the touch plate, but Teri
grabbed his arm and pulled it back.  "Your retinal scan won't
pass muster.  It will just alert them that they've got
company."

"You're right," Morag hissed.  "Okay, come over here."  She
led the way to the main security desk.  "See that button," she
said pointing to a red one, "and that green one there?"  Teri
nodded.  "When I tell you to "go", push the red one and then
immediately push the green one.  That will call away a
security alert and open the door."

"Remember that your fine motor skills are confused, too,
Morag," Teri warned.  "You may not be quite the marksman you
were as a woman."

"Got no choice," he responded as he took position to one side
of the door.  "Do it, Teri."

~----------~

Cat was watching, waiting for her chance.  The woman called
Number One was good, she thought, too damned good, but Mandy
was the wild card.  Cat knew from personal experience that it
was all too easy to see the cute young female and forget the
mature, hardline masculine mind that inhabited that sexy
little body.  *Maybe Mandy will distract her long enough for
me to make a move on her.*

Suddenly, the main door whooshed open and a tall, gangly
scarecrow of a man dove into the room, a hand blaster at the
ready.  Instinct took over and Cat was already moving when the
man fired.  She felt the heat of the blast crackle above her
as she hit the deck and heard the sizzle of blaster-beam on
human flesh followed by the muffled sound of a body hitting
the floor.

Mandy's door whooshed open and the other two hostiles came out
firing.  Their shooting disrupted Cat's savior's aim and his
next shot went wide.  Cat snatched up Number One's weapon and
took down the one on the right, but the other had the man dead
to rights and was shooting when a petite, blond haired woman
streaked into the room between the man and the attacker.

The new woman took the dart intended for the man while Cat got
the final invader.

*I'll worry about her once I get Mandy to safety,* Cat thought
moving toward the bed room.  She entered, weapon at the ready,
and stopped.

There were two Mandy's inside . . . both of them nearly nude. 
*Oh, shit!  The fake one must have run in there during the
fire-fight and stripped, too!  Cripes!  Which one is MY
Mandy?*

"Cat, help me!" one of them called.  "She's not me."

"No, help me!" the other said.  "I'm the real Mandy!"

Grimly, Cat looked at the two beautiful, nearly naked bodies. 
She tried to find the smallest difference that would tell her
who was who . . . or at least, who was hers, but there was
nothing definitive.  Nothing she could be sure enough of that
she'd take the other one down.

"Oh hell, Donovan," the one on the left growled, and suddenly
spun on left foot with her right leg fully extended.  The
deceptively graceful movement ended with her instep snapping
hard into the other Mandy's solar plexus.

The kicked woman went down hard, gasping for breath.  Cat
smiled as she recognized the last move she'd taught *her*
Mandy before . . . well, before Morag had been lost.

"My Mandy, I assume?" Cat asked, a small smile on her lips.

"Yes, and I think if you weigh me and her, you'll find that
she is what I was in those first few days.  She practically
fainted while she was stripping.  I'd have had her sooner if
she hadn't kept one of those dart guns pointed at me, but she
pitched it when you ran in to try and confuse the issue.  If
you check her arm, you'll find the hypo-tracks of whatever it
was she was shooting into herself to overcome the post-
transition weakness."

Just then, the security response team burst in.  They quickly
secured the two still living attackers who were sleeping off
the drugged darts Cat had shot into them.

Morag was starting to feel the drug Teri had pumped into him
wear off, but he forced himself to stay awake.  "Cat," he
called, "Teri . . . help her . . . please . . . she. . . saved
. . . me," he got out.

"Who the hell ARE you?" Cat demanded striding into the room
followed by Mandy.

Morag lifted his head, trying to answer, but saw a third
figure creep out of the bedroom and raise a weapon at Cat's
back.  With his last strength, he raised his blaster, and
fired.

Stun-bursts from several weapons only finished the job of
knocking Morag out.

~-------------------~

Chapter 27: Revelations and Closure

Morag came to slowly.  He looked around, taking in his
surroundings.  Where ever he was, the place seemed somehow
familiar.  "So, you're awake, are you?"  

He looked in the direction of the voice and saw Mandy standing
in the doorway.  "So it seems, Ms. Mandy."

A warm laugh washed over him.  "Ah, but I'd recognize that
brogue anywhere.  God, but I'm glad to see you, Morrie, even
if you are more Morgan than Morag now."

"They thought they'd gotten the whole process and decided to
test it on me.  Guess I am luckier than whoever it is they
tried to change after me."

"So Teri told us.  Evidently the woman who provided the
psychiatric data that justified my own transition tried to
become Adam and died during the transition."

"Teri's all right?  She saved me, ye know."

"We know.  Except for when the team leader revived Cat, the
attackers were only using non-lethal weapons, mostly to keep
the attack from being a capital crime."

"I know she will have to pay for what she did . . . "

"No one except us knows anything, Morag," Mandy said quietly,
"and Cat and I have decided not to say anything to the cops. 
She saved your life, at great risk to herself, and then would
have sacrificed herself to save you again."

"I . . . ah . . . I care for her, Ms. Mandy," Morag said with
a bit of a blush.

"Of course you do, Morag.  I knew that weeks ago.  She's sweet
on you, too."

"She was sweet on Morag, not Morgan or whoever I am now, Ms.
Mandy.  I don't suppose there's much chance I can go back to
being me, is there?"

"We don't know how, Morrie.  When they attacked Bob's Lab,
they inadvertently destroyed all his records.  We don't know
what he discovered.  All we have left are two bottles with my
and Cat's name.  We suspect there was a third - one with your
name on it, perhaps?"

"Yes, there was.  That's how I got to be this big, hulkin'
brute."

"Well, you're a damned fine looking big hulking brute, Morrie. 
As to those bottles, well, I guess that means the stuff in
those bottles will work, then, if they worked on you."

Morag thought back to the day Bob had died.  "Umm . . . maybe,
Ms. Mandy, but there's somethin' ya need tae know . . ."

~------------~

Cat found Mandy sitting in her old, or rather Matt's old
office.  A cold knot grew in Cat's gut as she watched the
woman she loved sitting behind the big antique desk.  Although
Mandy wasn't a small woman, she looked so . . . so tiny behind
the huge oak furniture piece, and out of place in a way that
had never applied to Matt.  At least, she looked out of place
to Cat.

*Get a grip, Donovan, and remember that it is HER life and HER
choice.*

"Been a long time since I last saw you in here," Cat said
aloud, as much to get Mandy's attention as anything else.

Mandy looked up from report she'd been studying and smiled. 
"Yes it has, or at least, it seems like a long time.  A great
deal has happened in these few weeks.  Look," Mandy said with
that gamine grin that made Cat's heart skip a beat, "I had to
raise the chair several inches.  I feel like a kid who needs
an old-fashioned phonebook under her butt in order to be able
to sit at the grown-ups table for dinner."

"How does it feel?  Being out of solitary confinement?"

"It was never that bad, and you know it.  Truth to tell, Cat,
I miss it and this office feels wrong.  I still like the work,
but . . . " Mandy shrugged.  "So, what about the honcho?  Did
Teri identify who she was before she turned herself into my
twin?"

Cat shook her head.  "Nope.  Teri claims she never knew the
identity of the number one.  She thinks only the psychiatrist
actually knew for sure.  All Teri does knows is that she was
personally shocked as hell to find out that the top bitch in a
supposedly all-female, anti-male-equality, good-ole-girls
movement was at least physically a male."

"What??"  Mandy almost shrieked.

"Yup.  Evidently he wanted to be a woman, but more than that,
he wanted to be a beautiful one, too.  Too bad for him but he
just wasn't a good 'babe' candidate even after surgery.  Too
many bones requiring too much sculpting, I guess.  From what
little Teri heard about him, he was some type of science guru
who funneled a helluva lot of Federation research dollars into
that facility where they took Morag.  When Bob said he'd found
the answer, Teri told them, and they decided to replace you
with him after he became that clone of you."

Cat paused for a moment, a look of frustration crossing her
strongly beautiful features.  "More than that, we just don't
know.  Hell, we won't likely ever know, now.  That's one of
the reasons I came looking for you.  Your evil twin died early
this morning from MacPherson's last blaster shot.  She took
the full power of that narrow-beam blast square in the face. 
Damaged her brain as well as her face.  The docs couldn't save
her."

"Lord only knows how either of them managed moving at all at
that point.  That Leader  must have shaken off that gut shot I
gave her quicker than I thought she could.  The drug she took
to blunt the post-transition weakness must have been really
strong stuff."

"So the doctors tell me," Cat agreed.  "She had me dead to
rights, too.  No way even an amateur could have missed at that
range."

Mandy gave a shudder at the thought of being alone and female
in a world without Cat Donovan.  "I'm just glad Morrie was
still alert enough to shoot that bitch before she got a shot
off at you, Cat."  

"Well, she didn't get me, and now she's dead.  Hard to believe
it's all over.  I just wish we knew who she used to be before
they turned her into your twin.  I'd really like to know that
there aren't any more like him, or rather, any more like her
back home."  Cat pulled out a computer-generated sketch.  This
is the Leader, pre-transformation.  At least, as close as our
police artists could come from Teri's descriptions." 

Mandy glanced down at the proffered sheet and blanched the
instant she looked at the picture.  "Oh my god," she whispered
in shock, "so that's what she meant about thirty years . . . "

After a long, silent moment when Mandy said nothing more, Cat
asked, "Are you all right?"

"What? . . . Huh?  Oh.  Oh, yeah."  Mandy nodded slowly, her
color returning.  "It's just that . . . well, I *know* this
person.  He was . . . "

~----------~

*Cooped up in bed _AGAIN_!* Mandy growled to herself.  *Just
because those damned sensors Bob glued to my hide went berzerk
when I looked at that damned picture.  Well, I'm giving this
crap about one more hour and then I am out of here!*

She was trying to think of some suitably nasty revenge to
wreak on Cat for turning Teri loose on her again when the door
started to open.  "Okay, Richards, get your skinny blonde butt
in here!" she growled.  "You and I have got to come to a
meeting of the minds about just who the hell runs this blasted
company."

"Umm," an only somewhat familiar deep voice said from behind
the door. "I am not Richards, Mandy."  

"Morrie!" Mandy almost cheered, her mood instantly improving. 

Morgan MacPherson came in and sat down beside Mandy on the
edge of her bed.  "Hi, fellow prisoner. How are you doing? 
They tell me you had a bit of a spell."

Mandy's disgusted look made the new man laugh.  "I am not ill
or sick - my vital signs just spiked a bit, and with just
cause, too.  It was a shock, okay?  It is not every day a
person finds out that their thesis advisor has been trying to
kill him . . . her."

"So, that's the truth of it, is it?  That Leader was your
doctoral advisor?"

"Yep.  Teri positively identified him from photos sent here by
MIT Security.  Now that I know, a lot of what happened makes a
good deal more sense.  He knew, better than anyone else, where
my work was going.  Hell, Bob and I brought him in on THE
Project several times as a consultant.  We tried, evidently
unsuccessfully, to compartmentalize what we were really doing
to protect the overall goals, but he could have figured it
out.  He knew me and he knew Bob from way back."

"And he had agents inside," Morgan added.  "Knowing what he
knew, adding bits from a couple of other compartments would
have given away the overall concept easily enough."

"Just so," Mandy agreed.

"So, what are you going to do about Teri?" Morgan asked,
trying to sound nonchalant. 

"If she doesn't get off my ass soon," Mandy snarled, "I am
going to kill her."

"Pardon me?" Morgan asked with a choked laugh.  "Off your
ass?"

"Damned Donovan sicced her on me again.  She is nursing me to
make sure that my little episode wasn't a side effect from the
transition."

Now Morgan did laugh.  "I see.  So, back to my question.  You
really aren't going to turn her in?"

"Good heavens, NO, Morrie!" Mandy spluttered.  "Good grief,
gir . . . I mean, boy.  Like I told you the other day, she
saved your life twice and then brought you back here in time
to save Cat's and my life when she could have gone to ground
and hidden out.  I've talked to her and believe she was going
to change sides anyway.  Did you know they wanted her to
seduce me?  And refused?  Her honor wouldn't let her,
particularly after she started falling for you.  She's my
friend, and she saved me and two of my best friends in the
world.  She's clear with me, Morgan."

"I . . . I don't know what to do about her," Morgan said
quietly.

Mandy snorted.  "I'd say courting her would be a good start,
fella."

"But, I'm not a fella, Mandy."

"Oh, come on, Morgan.  Look, unless we can reproduce Bob's new
process, we can't take the chance of turning you back, so you
are a fella . . . just like I am a gal.  Oh, I know you're a
girl in your head, but you're all man on the outside, and you
love a very pretty girl who just happens to return those
feelings in spades.  So, go out and get fitted for some fancy
duds - at company expense since this . . . transition was in
the line of duty - and start wooing the girl."

"But she fell in love with Morag."

"She fell in love with *you*, and I can tell you that it was
only her worry about how you'd react to girl-girl love that
held her back.  She was being noble.  Now, she's just afraid
that you knowing the truth about her involvement in that group
of feminist counter-revolutionaries, would mean you couldn't
love her."

"Now that's just plain silly!" Morgan retorted.

Mandy was about to answer when the door again opened, this
time admitting Teri.  Seeing her chance, Mandy popped up out
of bed.  She grabbed a stunned Teri and all but tossed her
into Morgan's lap before hurrying to the door.  "You don't
have to convince me, fella.  Convince HER!"

"MorGANNN?!?!?!  What are you doingggg . . . hmmmppphhhh??? .
. . mmmmmmmmmMMMooorrgannnnn . . . "

Mandy laughed quietly as she slipped from the room and locked
the door behind her, leaving her two friends the privacy such
first times deserve.

~-----------~

Much to her annoyance, Cat found Mandy sitting in the secure
apartment's sitting room.  Cat Donovan being Cat Donovan, she
immediately went on the attack.  "Just what the hell do you
think you are doing out of your bed?  And where the hell is
Teri?  I *told* her to tie you to that damned bed if that's
what it took to keep you there."

A sly smile lit Mandy's face.  "I don't think there is room
for her to tie me up there, although it does sound interesting
- with you there with me, that is.  Anyway, I am out of my bed
because Teri is in it . . . with Morgan."

That stopped Cat short for a moment, before her own smile
bloomed.  "How did you manage that one, minx?"

"Oh, opportunity, explosive sexual chemistry and a fairly
gentle judo toss.  No fool, our Morgan.  I gave him the
opportunity with the judo throw.  He took care of the rest."

"Good for him."  Cat thought of how she'd like the same
opportunity, but refrained from laying that guilt on Mandy. 
"I brought these for you," she said holding up two small
bottles.  "Since we know that Bob's process worked on Morag, I
figure it must be safe for you to use the one with your name
on it to go back to being a guy."

"I'd wondered where those were," Mandy said, looking at the
bottles Cat had set down on the small table.  Briefly, she
thought about Dr. Thompson's question, and wondered again how
she'd answer it when she next saw the psychiatrist.  "But it's
not that sure a thing, that.  I mean, just because it worked
for Morag, or rather for Morgan, that it doesn't necessarily
mean it would be safe for me, or even you."

"What do you mean?  It worked, didn't it?"

Mandy quietly repeated what Morgan had told her the day before
about the difference between Morag's genotype and Cat's and
Mandy's.

"So, Morag only had one bad gene set to correct, while you and
I have both sets bad . . . at least they're bad gene sets if
you're a female whose goal in life is to be changed into a
male," Cat said as she slowly settled into one of the chairs.

"Right.  And since we don't even know how Bob did the culture
tests, we can't repeat the experiments with those samples to
prove whether it is safe or unsafe.  I am sure there are other
researchers we can find who can figure out how to do them, and
who might ultimately reproduce his work, but right now, we
just don't know."

Cat looked over at the two bottles.  *She wants to be a man
again so badly.*  Cat stood and walked over to pick up one of
the two amber vessels. *Well, I can help her with that.  It's
the least I can do for the woman that I love.*

"I'll test the stuff.  Teri knows how to handle the
transition.  If I make it through, then you can try it."

Mandy's face went blank for a moment, but only for a moment. 
Then the incredible speed and quickness she'd developed had
her out of her seat and in Cat's face.  With one smooth, fluid
movement, Mandy snatched the bottle from Cat's hand before the
larger woman quite knew what she was about.  Without pausing,
Mandy spun, and hurled the bottle against the wall, shattering
it into small bits and shards.

"Mandy!  What the hell are you doing?"

"Stopping you from doing something we'll both regret, you
damned blockheaded woman!"

"But . . . but, I was only . . . I mean, I thought you wanted
. . . "

"I want YOU!"  Mandy cut Cat off as she turned to advance on
the other woman, fire in her normally cool eyes.  "For
whatever reason this happened, one thing has been true from
the get-go.  I *LOVE* you.  Hell, I'd love you even if you
became a man and I stayed a woman, but I need *you* and I need
you *alive*!"

"But . . . but . . . you want to be a man, and . . . and . . .
I want you to have and be what you want."

*She's cute when she dithers,* Mandy thought fondly.  "Look,
Cat, I want to have you and I want to be what you want.  Do
you think you could ever want Matthew Sorenson?  Even a
particularly improved Matthew?"

"Well . . . sure.  You'd be that Matthew and . . . "

"And you'd *try*.  Dammit, suppose you always had to force
yourself to remember the Mandy inside the Matt when we loved? 
You think I wouldn't know it if you tried to do that?"  Mandy
recalled Cat's own words from the time she'd eavesdropped on
her and Morag in Cat's office.  No WAY was she going to let
Cat have to deal with demons.  "And I would absolutely *hate*
it!  Well, *that* just *isn't* going to happen.  I have got
some news for you, Catherine Brenda Donovan, I love you, and I
want to make the woman I love happy.  If that means being
Mandy for you, well, that is a pretty small price to pay for
being the person Cat Donovan loves."

Cat couldn't believe this.  She couldn't *LET* herself believe
this.  "But . . . "

Mandy cut her off, and then gently flipped the flustered Cat
to the floor and straddled her.  Taking her face in her hands,
Mandy touched her nose to Cat's. "Now look, Cat.  The body is
Mandy, but right at this particular moment, the head is all
Matt.  Don't you think I am man enough to satisfy the woman I
love in all the ways she needs to be satisfied?"

"But . . . but."

"Cat, let me answer that question.  Yes, I am *definitely* man
enough to be the woman that *my* woman - the woman *I* love -
wants and needs me to be!!"

A burble of almost hysterical laughter shook Cat's frame. 
"Man enough to be a woman?  Is *that* supposed to make sense?"

"Sure it does," Mandy said smugly.  "I love you, you love me. 
I want you, and you want Mandy.  I am Mandy.  I will *always*
be Mandy for you . . . and for me."

"I've always been the care-giver in my relationships, Mandy -
sort of the husband, you know?  I'll probably treat you like
the "little woman" more than you might expect.  You think your
manliness can handle letting me take care of you like that?  I
mean, you're a really independent person, and I know you're
the tops in your profession, and it wouldn't mean I think you
can't take care of yourself . . . "

*Guess there's no doubt how I'll answer Jan's question at our
next session now,* Mandy thought, happier than she could ever
remember being in her life.  Gently, Mandy reached up and put
a single finger to Cat's lips.  "Hush, Cat.  The man I was has
felt much the same way about you, except I never had the
courage to say so to you.  I love you and want to be loved by
you.  Like I said, I am man enough to be the woman you need,
sweet Cat," Mandy repeated, her solemnity making the words a
vow.  "Just as long as you really do love and want me."

"WANT AND LOVE YOU?  ARE YOU CRAZY??"

Suddenly, Mandy found herself wrapped in a passionate embrace
and being kissed senseless.  Instinct took over and Mandy was
soon giving as good as she was getting - which was incredible
- beyond anything she had ever experienced in her or Matt's
lifetime.

A very long time later, Mandy roused from the passion-drugged
haze that had settled in her brain.  "Ummm . . . Cat?"

"Hmmmmmm . . . ?" Cat grunted

"Not that it matters, but which bottle of serum did I smash?"
Mandy asked with a touch of a giggle that was quickly cut off
by another ravaging kiss.