A Navy SEAL, crippled by wounds, is given a chance to be whole again … but at what price? |
CHAPTER 6 The large plasma screen display on the wall of the briefing room showed Brandi, dressed in black tights and a sports bra, standing on the exercise mat. Surrounding her were six men, much taller than her five foot, eight inch frame. They were all experts in hand to hand combat, and they circled the young woman warily at the edges of the mat. Brandi appeared unconcerned, and she did not even adopt a defensive stance. Instead she merely studied her nails for a moment, and then tossed her head back, throwing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and smiling. She adopted a provocative stance and looked around at the six men. “I thought you boys wanted to play?” She purred sexily. Two of her sparring partners rushed in from either side, while two more came at her from the front and back. The remaining two kept their distance, ready to move in when the time was right. Brandi blocked kicks from the two to her sides but was caught squarely in the back by a kick from the man behind her. She was propelled forward towards the fourth, but she somehow managed to use that momentum to her advantage, launching herself upward into a flip that took her completely over him. Her own kick sent the man stumbling forward into his three partners and they all tumbled to the mat in a tangle of limbs. Not waiting for them to recover, she went on the offense against the two who had held back. Rushing forward, she dodged a flurry of kicks and swings, and then doubled over one man with a solid knee to the solar plexus. She rolled across his back, her legs wind milling into a double kick to the jaw that sent the other man down to the mat. The fight went on for another five minutes but the outcome was never really in doubt. In the end the six men lay on the mat, battered and bruised. Brandi was not unscarred when it was all over, her nose was bleeding and she had a purple welt swelling on her face as well as numerous bruises to her abdomen, arms and legs. As soon as she helped her sparring partners up, she immediately stripped off her clothing so the camera could record the various bruises and welts, showing no concern over exposing herself to the camera. The screen went dark and the lights in the briefing room came up as Susan rose from her seat. “Brandi’s injuries were completely healed in less than fifteen minutes,” Susan informed them. “They were pulling their punches,” a man in a dark suit named Reginald Mercer accused. “They just didn’t want to rough a girl up.” Susan glared at the man for a moment. He worked for some unnamed government agency and had been sent as a ‘liaison’ to their work, but Susan knew better. He was there to evaluate Brandi, who was rapidly being viewed as a potentially valuable tool. Mercer was there to see that nothing interfered with the development of this new weapon. And to top it all off, he was an asshole whom Susan had taken an instant dislike to. “I think you can see from the bruises and blood that they managed to rough her up quite effectively,” Susan replied acidly. “Besides, this was not the first time Brandi sparred with these men, and she had taught them not to go easy on her. In an earlier bout, she sent two of them to the infirmary for treating her like a girl.” “That sounds like the Brandon I know,” a distinguished looking older man in a naval uniform snorted. Rear Admiral Michael Hammerstein, known with some affection, and a good bit of fear, by those under him as ‘The Hammer’, was the Commander, Naval Special Warfare Command. He had known Brandon for years, since he was a young midshipman at the Naval Academy. He was a hard, brusque man, and one you always knew where you stood with. “If I hadn’t seen the transformation footage with my own eyes…” Admiral Hammerstein muttered. “What about the earlier incident?” Mercer asked. “Why was she so easily incapacitated by the taser?” “She is not invulnerable,” Susan said. “She feels pain just like anyone else. Also Brandi is able to detect very minute electromagnetic fields. It may be that this ability makes her more susceptible to the taser’s effect on the nervous system.” “What other capabilities has she demonstrated?” Mercer asked. “Other than the physical enhancements she has displayed.” “She can go for long periods of time, days, without sleep. She can also run for literally hours at a steady pace,” Susan told them. “However if she pushes herself hard she eventually has to enter a kind of meditative state to recover. She calls it ‘Zen Sleep’. Basically she becomes for all practical purposes comatose, and it is virtually impossible to awaken her until her body has recovered. In this state she is very vulnerable, and her body will only allow her to enter it if she’s in a safe environment. This is what she did after the incident with Mitchell, to heal her injuries.” ~And scare the hell out of me.~ Susan thought. “Mr. Mitchell hit her hard enough to break three ribs. She also had a mild concussion and severe bruising to her kidneys. After six hours of Zen sleep there was no trace she had ever been injured.” “In strength tests she has bested the world records in the bench press, squat and dead lift,” Susan continued. “That’s the men’s records, in the heaviest weight class. “Her senses; sight, smell, hearing and touch are far more acute than human norms. These heightened senses operate on a separate level from her regular senses, so that strong stimuli, loud noises, intense smells and such, do not overwhelm her. As I said she can detect electromagnetic fields. That is how she was able to detect the presence of the cameras and microphones in her room. She has also demonstrated the ability to disrupt those devices, and has done so several times, disrupting the equipment monitoring her room.” “Why would she do that?” Mercer asked. Admiral Hammerstein chuckled at the question. “Sometimes a girl wants her privacy,” was all Susan said before continuing. “Brandi’s body is designed to be extremely efficient, and to make use of whatever is available for nourishment. She can ingest and metabolize virtually anything. She also eats like a horse, and her body is capable of using everything she consumes and wasting nothing.” “Are you saying she doesn’t produce waste?” Admiral Hammerstein asked. “Under normal conditions she uses a bathroom just like anyone else,” Susan said with a smile. “She does not have to do it as frequently and all the waste she processes is completely sterile. Under field conditions however her body will metabolize everything she takes in. “Perhaps the most interesting of her recently discovered traits is the fact that she doesn’t leave behind trace evidence. Hair, tissue, blood, waste products … even fingerprints, all break down and dissipate in a very short time after leaving her body. It’s made the collection and study of blood and tissue samples from her nearly impossible.” “The perfect covert operative,” Mercer remarked. “Entering and leaving without a trace.” “We know Brandi has been adapting at a remarkable rate physically over the past three months, Doctor Covington,” Admiral Hammerstein injected, “but how is she doing mentally and emotionally?” “Well, let me tell you something I observed yesterday by way of an answer,” Susan replied. “Brandi was in her room, which of course you know we monitor constantly. She was walking back and forth across the floor, and it took me several minutes to understand what she was trying to do. “She was trying to walk without swaying her hips … without looking … sexy. She kept at it for an hour, if not actually trying to walk like a man than at least trying not to walk like, as she says, ‘a tease’. She couldn’t do it; her body just is not structured that way. She finally collapsed on the floor crying.” “She certainly didn’t seem to be concerned about looking like a tease before the sparring match,” Mercer observed. “And she definitely wasn’t modest about showing off her tits afterwards.” Susan half thought Admiral Hammerstein was going to back hand Mercer, the way his head snapped around at the comment. Instead he just glared icily, making the spook cringe visibly. “That was a completely different situation,” Susan explained. “It’s the warrior genes. The same reason she won’t allow them to cut her any slack in training. To her, training and combat are the same thing. The only difference is how far you take it. And in combat, you fight to win, using every tool and weapon at your disposal. By the same token, she knew that cataloging the extent of her injuries after the match was a necessary part of determining how quickly she heals. “Emotionally she is in turmoil. She still thinks of herself as a forty-year-old man, but she is trapped in the body of a seventeen year old girl, with raging hormones, loose emotions and a monthly period.” “So you’re saying she is unstable,” Mercer concluded. “No I’m saying she’s a teenager,” Susan retorted. “Will she speak to us?” Admiral Hammerstein asked. “Yes she will,” Susan confirmed. “She’s waiting in her room right now. She was a bit apprehensive about seeing you, Admiral. She has a great deal of respect for you, and she’s worried about your reaction.” The Hammer merely nodded at Susan’s words. Susan rose from her seat and stepped out of the briefing room to get Brandi. “Mr. Mercer, I don’t like you,” the Hammer said after Susan was gone. “Brandon Anderson was one of the finest Naval Officers I have ever known. I strongly suggest you treat Brandi with the respect she has earned and deserves. If you ever hope to have her cooperation, you had best tread easily.” “With all due respect, Admiral, if she is such an upstanding officer, won’t she do as ordered?” Mercer countered. “Brandon Anderson is dead,” Hammerstein shot back, his voice a low growl. “He died due to complications from wounds received in combat, it says so right here on the citation I have. Brandi is a young woman who never served in the military and is in my opinion under no obligation to us in any way.” “I’ll make a note of your opinion in my report, Admiral.” The exchange was halted before it escalated as the briefing room door opened and Susan entered, followed closely by Brandi. She was dressed in what had become her standard attire, black BDU pants, large white t-shirt and combat boots. Despite her efforts, the outfit did little to disguise her curves. Admiral Hammerstein immediately rose to his feet. Mercer was slower to rise and seemed annoyed at the display of courtesy. “Brandi, this is Reginald Mercer and I believe you know Admiral Hammerstein,” Susan said as an introduction. She had already told Brandi who Mercer was, withholding her personal opinion of the man. “It’s good to see you Admiral,” Brandi said softly. “It is my pleasure to meet you Brandi,” Hammerstein replied in an uncharacteristically warm tone. “Well let’s get on with this shall we?” Mercer said once everyone was seated. “As I am sure Doctor Covington has informed you, I am here to evaluate the viability of this project and how it can be best utilized by our military and intelligence communities.” “This project has a name,” Susan interrupted. “I’m aware of the girl’s name, Doctor Covington,” Mercer said testily. As Mercer droned on about what was expected of her, Brandi took a metal nail file from her pocket and began filing her nails. She had to use a metal file since her nails were far harder and stronger than normal, and a plain emery board had little impact on them. Susan nearly laughed out loud. It was like pulling teeth to get Brandi to even attempt to attend to normal feminine grooming practices. The only reason she would do it now was to piss the government man off. Mercer continued to talk, but was becoming visibly agitated by her apparent lack of attention. “Is she even paying attention to me?” Mercer finally demanded. Brandi blew noisily on her nails before speaking. “Duh, like I’m not deaf,” she said, “You want me to be, like, a spy and wiggle my cute little butt and, you know, get whatever kind of info you happen to be looking for, and maybe take out the odd bad guy.” Susan groaned inwardly. It was even worse, she was in full ‘dumb blonde’ mode. In the months since her transformation, Brandi’s personality had grown to mirror her appearance, to fit the perception people would have of her. As Susan had said, she was for all intents and purposes a teenage girl. She could be petulant, flighty and downright silly at times, especially when she was stressed or dealing with a situation she did not like. Her behavior told Susan two things; she was very uncomfortable in the presence of Admiral Hammerstein, and she really did not like Mercer. “See, now I was thinking something, like, more fun, ya know?” Brandi continued. “Maybe a training mission to the local mall … I could, like, infiltrate all the really cool shops and max out Susan’s credit card buying a new wardrobe. I could really use some new clothes.” Susan lost her control for a moment and laughed out loud. She could also be a real smart ass. Brandi had resisted every effort she had made to get her to dress like a girl. “I think you had best start taking this seriously if you ever want to see the outside again,” Mercer said menacingly. “You are a potentially valuable asset, and possibly a tremendous liability. It would not be wise for you to make us think you were going to be uncooperative, or worse, a threat.” Brandi’s violet eyes locked onto Mercer, and there was no longer any hint of mirth in them. “I think I’ll just avoid the Christmas rush and start not liking you now,” she said sweetly, her eyes wide and innocent. “You know, they say when a guy acts like a prick he’s compensating for something.” “You may not like was has happened to you missy, but this is bigger than you now!” Mercer exploded. “Your cooperation is expected, and that comes straight from The Man.” “Oooh, The Man,” Brandi giggled, her eyes affecting a look of wide eyed awe. “Like, couldn’t anyone come up with a better name than that? I tell you what, why don’t you tell The Man to come down here himself. Then I can tell him in person to kiss my cute, round ass.” “I think we will have this conversation another time,” Mercer said, gathering up his papers and storming towards the door. “Perhaps when you feel like being more accommodating.” “Yeah that’ll happen about the time you actually develop a personality!” Brandi called after him as he slammed the door to the briefing room. “Sheesh I thought he’d never leave!” She giggled, and then noticed the disapproving looks of Susan and the Admiral. “Sorry,” she squeaked. “Brandi, I know this hasn’t been easy on you,” Admiral Hammerstein sighed. “And God knows you deserve to be left to find your own way. But there are powerful people who want to use you, and right now they are running the show.” “I know that sir,” Brandi said softly, and then her voice grew harsher. “They are the same people that sent my platoon into the desert, with inadequate support and woefully inadequate intelligence. They made me what I am today, but if they think I will just roll over and be a good soldier, they have another thing coming. Those days are over.” “I can’t say I blame you for feeling that way,” Admiral Hammerstein told her. “You know that Doctor Covington has been pushing them to let you out of here, let you find a way to adapt to your transformation in the real world. If it were up to me …” “I know Admiral,” Brandi said. “At any rate, I won’t stop trying,” Hammerstein said with vigor. “Now, my main reason for pulling some strings to get out here today, besides wanting to see for myself how you are doing, was to give you something. I took the liberty of having this retrieved from your apartment in Gainesville before your effects were packed up.” Susan watched apprehensively as the Admiral stood up and placed his briefcase on the table. He had told her what he intended to do, and she was not certain how Brandi would react. The Admiral opened the brief case and took out a small wooden case, which he slid across the table to Brandi. She looked at it for a long time before she opened the lid. Inside were Brandon’s commendations, among them the Bronze Star, the Silver Star and the Navy Cross. “These aren’t really mine anymore,” she said quietly. “Nonsense!” Admiral Hammerstein retorted. “You are who you are inside, no matter what you look like or who you have become on the outside. You earned those medals…but I am afraid they are not complete.” The Admiral took another, smaller case from his briefcase, along with a framed piece of parchment. With measured stride he moved around the table until he stood beside Brandi’s chair, and then he presented the case to her. With trembling hands she opened the box to reveal a blue ribbon from which was suspended a large, bronze five-pointed star. “The President of the United States, in the name of the Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Lieutenant Commander Brandon Anderson,” the Admiral read from the citation. “Lieutenant Commander Brandon Anderson distinguished himself by acts of gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action with an armed enemy northwest of Baghdad, Iraq, on twenty-seven March, 2003. On that day…” Brandi sat in stunned silence as the Admiral read the remainder of the citation. She had known that she … that Brandon had been recommended for the medal - had even known that the award was likely. But she had not given it a single thought since her transformation. She felt the tears running down her face as the Admiral finished. “Dammit, now you made me cry!” She sniffed as Susan handed her a tissue. “It would be my honor if you would allow me to place the medal on you Brandi,” The Admiral said softly. Brandi stood up, coming to attention and not caring how it made her breasts jut forward. Susan stood behind her and lifted her hair free of the ribbon after the Admiral had placed the medal over her head. Then he stepped back, came to attention himself and snapped a smart salute. Brandi returned the salute with equal precision, holding it until the Admiral lowered his hand. Then she squealed and leapt forward, wrapping her arms about the Admiral’s neck and planting a big, wet kiss on his cheek. The Admiral looked to Susan, who nodded her head, before wrapping his own arms about Brandi, actually lifting her off the floor in a huge bear hug. |