"I'd noticed that, too. I can handle him."

"Are you sure? I could rough him up a bit. You know, pick him out for 'training' exercises."

I laughed at the thought. She smiled at my perk up. "Thanks, Susie, but no. I've got to deal with him myself. He thinks I'm everyone's favorite toy, and if I hide behind you all the time, he might be right."

"You can't take on Jackson by yourself, he's three times your size. And you're not our toy, but you..."

"I said let me handle it, okay?" I snapped angrily and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, Susie. I'm just real, real tired. But I mean it. Let me handle him. He's not the enemy, or anything like that. He's just a bully. And you've got to stand up to bullies."

"All right. If you change your mind..."

"Thanks. Listen, I'm going to clean up. What's on my duty for today?"

"Nothing official. We're going to ease you into the routine. Later this afternoon, I'd like to take you to the armory, and have you pick out a sidearm. Then maybe some target practice and tactics orientation. Tonight we'll hit the gym."

"Fine, as long as we're not hitting each other."

"Not likely. If I have my way, I'll never face you again except in very controlled conditions. I'd also like to get you in a workout with Company A. Company B is on skirmish tomorrow afternoon, so they'll be in briefing."

"How about the Research room? I still haven't seen that yet." She seemed a little uneasy, and I could guess why. "Never mind. But when the time comes that you can trust me completely, I'd like a look."

"It's not that, Abigail. We do trust you. It's just that we're in the final stages of research on another Cue, and the place is pretty busy and very restricted. I don't even go in there too much now. Probably in a week or two." That made me feel better.

Later, though, standing in the shower, letting the hot water pour over my head and aching shoulders, my feelings were a little more mixed. A new Cue? I wondered what she would be like. Or he. Would I get to meet her? Did I want to? I suppose I was feeling a little jealous. I did have a privileged position as a Cue, even though it did come with a price. Would that be diminished or lost with the new Cue? That was pretty petty, I had to admit to myself. Of course I'd help her or him out. I'd be in the best position to sympathize certainly. I just wish I could have had a little more time as-and here I conceded Jackson a point-everyone's new toy.

I finished cleaning up, brushing my teeth this time, and went to bed. I'd now been in the showers so many times I could have gotten another hour of sleep by just moving my bed into the bathroom. Tired? I could have slept on the tiles. I dropped my clothes into a heap in the laundry chute, then dropped myself into a heap in bed. I squirmed around for a while, finding the very best position to relax my body. My shoulders and back hurt so much that I reached over to Susie's bed and swiped her pillow to lay on. It helped. Turning down the lights to late evening, I fell off into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, I felt much, much better. The computer told me it was almost three p.m. and that Susie was not in the compound. I dressed into another work uniform, which was pants, blouse and jacket. I didn't bother with the sheath this time. It had helped immensely keeping me cool in the laundry, but it felt like I had a layer of oil on, it was so slippery. I stomped into my heavier boots-I had been issued two pairs of shoes and one pair of boots-and headed for the armory. Susie had mentioned I would be issued a sidearm today, and I was very keen on selecting my own.

The armory was in the hanger, cut into the far wall away from the gym area. There was an older man working at a table when I walked up. He was working on a heavy rifle of some sort and didn't hear my approach. When I cleared my throat politely, he looked up. Recognizing me, he cracked a wide smile.

"Why, h.e.l.lo there. Abigail, isn't it?" He set down the rifle and picked up a rag.

I nodded. "h.e.l.lo. Yes. Abigail Wyeth. Sus-uh, Corporal Lendler said I would be issued a sidearm today, and I was hoping to have a chance to pick one."

"Well now, that sounds reasonable." He tapped a couple times on his terminal. He looked up at me and winked. "I don't need the thing, but I've gotta keep them thinking I know what I'm doing." I smiled. "Here we go. Yep. Got you on the issue list right here. But I can't release any weapon without the Corporal's thumbprint IS VERIFIED. THE DOCKING CONTROLS ARE NOW YOURS, PILOT. PLEASE NOTE THAT NAVIGATIONAL BUOYS GAMMA 23 AND EPSILON 24 ARE CURRENTLY DAMAGED AND INOPERATIVE. THERE HAS ALSO BEEN A SOLAR FLARE WARNING ISSUED FROM 0500 UNTIL 2030 TOMORROW NIGHT. I HAVE DETECTED A SMALL FLUCTUATION IN PORT THRUSTER SIX. COMPENSATION BURST FROM PORT THRUSTER FIVE HAS CORRECTED THE PROBLEM. DOCKING WILL COMMENCE IN TWO POINT ONE MINUTES. STATION GAMMA HAS CLEARED PLATFORM 189 AND WISHES TO INFORM YOU.

"Hey, kid!"

"Yes?" I started as he broke off his conversation abruptly. "You were saying about Corporal Lendler's thumbprint?"

He shook his head. "Teenagers. You gotta be hundreds of years old, but," and he shook his head again. "Gotta be the hormones. Teenagers."

While I stood there trying to figure out this odd comment, he went over to a weapons locker and pulled out a sampling of side arms. He motioned me to step inside, so I joined him. He held them out like a proud father showing off his beloved triplets.

"Just 'cause I can't issue you one doesn't mean you can't try 'em out. One of these should do the trick. Let's start with this one." He set two of them down and offered me the remaining one.

I hefted it in my hand. It was heavy, but considerably lighter than the one I'd swiped during my aborted escape. It was small caliber, projectile based and seemed to have a limited magazine. The balance was decent, but sluggish.

"Is there someplace I can try this?"

"Sure. Right here. Hey, Agnes!"

"Whadaya want, bean pole?" The computer's voice took on a shrill woman's tone. "Gonna shoot off some guns again?"

"Yep. Shut 'er off and open 'er up."

"Yeah, yeah," the computer grumbled. I could almost picture her shuffling off slowly to get whatever it was he'd asked for. But it was only imagination. Very quickly the sound from the hanger was cut off, and a long, fairly wide opening appeared in the rear wall of the armory. It looked to be a tunnel, but was clearly a target range.

I walked over to the range and hefted the gun. He followed me.

"Here's the safety, load indicator and sonic sighting. When the indicator lights, you've acquired target lock."

"No laser sighting?"

"Nope. Sound sights are lighter and they don't give off that telltale beam which can also be locked onto for return fire. Also, the range of a weapon this small is short, so the sonics are accurate enough. Aim it like this..."

He stepped up close to me and put his right hand on my shoulder, extending his left arm out along mine. His face was alongside mine, a little higher. It made me vaguely uneasy. I shrugged him off a little bit, and he backed up, his ears burning.

"Sorry! Didn't mean anything. I just wanted..."

"Please. It's all right. I should apologize. I'm still uncomfortable with..." I let my voice trail off.

He laughed. "Me, too! I've heard all about it. Everyone has. I suppose we're all kinda walking on eggsh.e.l.ls first time we see you. It's gotta be pretty hard ... you know..." He gave me a fatherly smile, and it felt very good inside me. "Let's try again, okay?"

"Okay. I've got the training, by the way, but thanks for the a.s.sist. Have you any targets?"

"Wouldn't be much of a range if I didn't, would it? Agnes! Give our young guest something to shoot."

Dutifully, a standard bulls eye appeared about one third of the way down the range, perhaps twenty meters. I lifted the gun and shot, not bothering to aim. The gun kicked hard in my hand and a tone went off. The target, a floating hologram, indicated with a gold ring where the bullet had gone. On a target one meter in diameter, I was about half way in. I cursed quietly. But not quietly enough, because my new friend's eyes got wide. Blushing from my lack of control with both mouth and gun, I lifted the gun again and fired. Closer but not good. The third shot drifted out further, and by the time I fired the ninth and last round, I was missing the target completely and the gun was getting too heavy to lift.

"I can't believe how heavy this thing is already!"

"Sorry. I picked out the lightest slug gun we have. I don't think it'll work for you. Your hands and arms don't have the strength. You'll be stronger in a couple years, but it's not going to change much."

"I'm beginning to get that idea that more and more. I'm big on flexibility but short on everything else. I don't think this is the one. Anything lighter?" I handed the gun back. "I just realized, I haven't asked your name."

"No problem." He reloaded the gun with a flick of his wrist and handed me a second gun. "I'm Darrin Woodside. Just call me Dusty. Don't have a rank. At least, I don't use it. When you're the only one that can fix everything, rank doesn't mean a whole bunch."

"All right, Dusty. Let's try number two. Energy based, isn't it?"

"Yep. This one's pretty slick. It fires plasma, so its gotta kick, and she pulls a might high and right. But she's also got a two second recharge cycle, a slightly oversized power pack, and does more damage than you'd think. Give it a try."

This gun was far lighter, though nearly as bulky. I activated the sonic sight and snapped on the charge cycle. A small tone gave me cycle complete and a second tone told me I had target acquisition. Aiming a little low and left, I squeezed the trigger.

The gun bucked hard and the hologram disappeared. In its place was a gold ring nearly a meter and a half in diameter. Not too big on subtlety, I concluded. This was what we called a percentage gun. Pull the trigger enough times and the percentages were always on your side. Aiming in anything other than a vague direction was a waste of time. I shut off the charging cycle and handed it back to him.

"Uh ... no, thanks. I prefer to have the option of identifying who I've shot. Maybe even ask the dead body questions. It's kinda nice to select targets with a little more, um, discrimination."

"Ah! We have an artist! A lady after my own heart! Then this is the one for you!" He handed over the third and final gun. Just its feel told me he'd saved the best for last. Like the blunderbuss, this was energy based, with similar control. As with the other two, it had a sonic sight. Best of all, its weight was perfect, and the balance very centered. A quick gun. I smiled and nodded. He grinned in agreement.

"I knew you'd like it. It has nowhere near the power of the other two, but if you prefer accuracy, she's the one. It's pure energy, so no kick. The range is pretty good, and the sonic sight is an improved model, with greater range and faster target acquisition. To top it all off, the recharge is only about four seconds. Give it a try."

"Target." I snapped on the sonic sighter and started the charge cycle. The standard hologram bulls eye appeared and I fired. The gun made no sound, nor had any kick as a hazy, thin beam shot from the gun. It was a single burst, but it went true, missing the center by less than ten centimeters. Four seconds later, there was a hole two centimeters closer in. After a minute, a dozen gold rings overlapped each other and the bulls eye. I shut the gun off and pa.s.sed it back.

"This is the one, Dusty. Can you hold it for me until Corporal Lendler can put her John Hanc.o.c.k down?" At his stare, I giggled. "Okay, an ancient phrase. Hold it until Susan releases it."

His face cleared up. "I can do you one better. Come over here." He led me to a small recess in the wall. Less than a half-meter cubed, it was coated on the inside with what looked to be featureless white plastic. It looked like a microwave, sans door, carved into the rock. Even the controls looked like it should have said bake, broil, and warm. He placed my gun into it and turned on the machine. It illuminated, but didn't seem to do anything else. After a few moments, the light went out and he retrieved the gun.

"Now, stick your hand in there." Being left-handed, I put that one in. He activated the machine and the light came on. My hand tingled a bit. After a few moments, a large rod lifted from the floor of the recess.

"Grab onto the rod. Use all your strength and try to squeeze it into two in the middle." I did so. It was soft and pliable, but stiffened as I squeezed. I put all my strength into it, and finally had to give up, having made it less than halfway through. When I released the rod, it snapped back to its cylindrical form and sank back into the bottom.

"Good, now move your hand around for a few seconds. No particular way, but try to do all three axes. Turn it over a couple times, too." I did so and, after a few seconds, the light went out and the tingle faded.

"And now we do both." He handed me the gun and, taking my hand, put it back in. He activated the machine and had me move my hand and gun around for about thirty seconds. The light shut off a final time.

"Great! Stop by and pick her up tomorrow and I'll have it customized for your grip and strength."

"Thanks a lot, Dusty!"

He waved a hand. "No thanks needed. I enjoy using my skills for a change. Mostly, I get gorillas who only want power, power, power. There's only about five or six who prefer quality to quant.i.ty. So it's my pleasure, Abigail. By the way, if you want to have Lendler stop by later, she can 'put her John Hanc.o.c.k' down then and not need to be here tomorrow."

Thanking him once more, I left in a very good mood, though I was a little ashamed of the way I had shrugged him off when he touched me. He was sweet.

Agnes opened the door for me, and I stepped into the hanger. It had been pretty active about twenty minutes ago, but I hadn't paid much mind. After finding out that Susie was still not in the compound, I wandered around, spending the time to figure out this little piece of my new world.

The front end of the cavern on my side back to where the ramp led up to Dr. Barrett's office was filled with a dozen armored vehicles. I climbed into one to take a look at the controls, but it yelled at me, so I just did an outside visual inspection. They were all hover vehicles, and looked built for quick strikes, with speed acting as armor.

I studied them as well as I could, learning as much as possible without touching them. Satisfied I understood their general workings and limitations, I cast my curiosity around somewhere else.

A group of soldiers were playing what looked like basketball over near the rec/gym area. I wandered over and was glad to see it was a coed game. I wasn't sure I could handle an all male crowd yet. I sat down on the floor and watched them.

It was basketball. Or it was what basketball had turned into. The basket hovered about three meters above the floor, but would on occasion shift on its axis and remain in that position for several minutes. And the ball seemed to take exaggerated bounces on occasion. They kept on playing, enjoying the time and camaraderie. Several waved at me, and I waved back. Finally, after about ten minutes, they took a breather, and three of the women came over to me. I recognized one as the tenor in the Birthday Suit trio. I didn't know the others.

"Hiya, Abby!" said the singer. She shoved out a sweaty hand. "We haven't met formally, yet. I'm Kate Garvey. This is Lena Hacker and Rachel Breslin." She jabbed a thumb at the men, who were keeping a respectful distance, and raised her voice. "I'd introduce these dogs to you, but you seem like a lady." They all laughed. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Though you didn't seem too much a lady yesterday morning."

"You didn't, either, Kate." I said, also in a low voice. "But you're a great tenor." We chuckled.

"We missed you this morning. I was hoping for a couple new tunes."

"Sorry, but I've got laundry."

"Laundry!" Lena spoke for the first time. She shuddered. " Jackson 's a jerk."

"That does seem to be the general opinion," I agreed. "Maybe I can get over on an off duty day. I miss the shower crowd. Even though I joined in only once, I felt, I don't know, comfortable." They nodded, understanding.

"I was there, too," said Rachel, "but you probably didn't see me. It wasn't till later that morning that we realized you were the first, um..." she tried to find the right way.

"No, I wasn't, Rachel. Doctor Barrett said the same thing. Let's just forget it, all right? As far as I see it, the Birthday Suit Trio still has a very exclusive audience."

Kate breathed a sigh. "Fine by me. I never thought it would be this hard. Hey, we're about to start up again. Why don't you join us? Do you know the game?"

I shrugged. "Sure. It's called basketball. It was all the rage in my day. I even played forward in my college days." They laughed, and I looked at them, confused. Lena saw my look.

"Abby, don't you realize how silly that sounds? I'm sure you did, but coming from the mouth of a, forgive me, runt like you, college sports is something to imagine."

"I know. I'm getting a lot of that. Still, don't underestimate me." I paused. "Though I'm probably not so hot at basketball anymore."

"Believe me, we're trying not to underestimate you," said Kate. "Especially after the way you worked over Lendler yesterday. C'mon, give it a try. We'll put you at guard. Only it's called targetball. Out of curiosity, why did they call it basketball?"

So I gave them history of the game as I remembered it. They seemed fascinated, partially from the history, partially because it was a teenager giving it. The guys took the court, playing as a team now. They were three to our four. I finished stretching and Lena threw me the ball.

It hit the floor once, then changed direction on the bounce. I adjusted quickly and caught it, but pretty awkwardly. It looked to be the same size, but was immense in my hands. It was also weighted to one side. The ball had a faint marking on it that traced out an oblong weight attached to the inside of the ball.

Having the ball, one of the men advanced on me. I deeked him to the right, then dribbled to my left. The ball hit the floor once and veered off. I had to lunge to keep hold of it, which meant I had to pa.s.s it off. This was going to take time.

More time than I had, as it turned out. After half an hour, I was exhausted and had a st.i.tch in my side. I had managed to score all of one basket on at least a dozen shots. I had learned a new game and had made several new friends, again all from Company A. I very much enjoyed myself, even though they were obviously holding back. Still, I was glad to see Susie standing on the sideline, cheering. I turned and waved just as Lena tossed me the ball. It hit me in the stomach and bounced to Forrest, the one with dark, curly hair and cute brown eyes. I shook my head, startled at the thought. I walked over to the sideline toward Susie. The game continued without me.

"You don't have to stop on my account, Abigail."

"You're right, Susie," I gasped out. "I have to stop on my account." We watched them play, the intensity picking up considerably. A good crowd. I wondered how someone like Jackson could survive in an outfit like this. As we walked back to our quarters, I voiced the thought aloud. Susie became quiet.

"I'm afraid our ranks are always a little thin. Sometimes we get as good as we give. We keep the best up front, and tolerate soldiers like Jackson because by freeing up a first rate dog, he becomes as valuable as one.

"You'll see some in the front ranks now, too. But they're different. There was a time when we were all idealists. Everyone fought for the Cues. Now most of us do. The others fight because they have a hatred for NATech, a personal vendetta, or just like to fight."

How many things should I tell you? I could go on and on about even the smallest details, it was all so exciting to me. Looking back over my account, I see that I have been going over the smallest details. I have to beg your forgiveness, but if you've gotten this far, I suppose there had to be some value in it. There was so much for me to do, learn and experience. So much history, so much technology, so many relationships to build, and yes, a life to rebuild.

And all of it was intensified from my new point of view. As the days, then weeks, pa.s.sed by, I became more and more aware of how much my s.e.xuality affected my whole viewpoint of the world. My physique had started out and would forever stay female. I had in me all the normal chemicals, emotions, and needs that made me a young woman. "Sugar and spice, and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of." I'd never paid much attention to the little poem, and when I did, it was with little curiosity and maybe even mild contempt. The differences between the genders was not so great as sugar and spice and snips, snails and puppy dog tails, I thought.

But it is. Everything that happened seemed to affect me more inside than anything that had happened when I had been male. I could get all weepy over a hug now, glow at a pleasant smile, sulk at the smallest insult or slight, or flare in anger over any injustice. And I took successes and failures much more personally. I wasn't an emotionless robot as a man. Of course I had feelings and emotions as a male. But they were more facets of me, portions that could be accessed. As a girl, these emotions and feelings were spread throughout me, affecting everything I thought, said and did.

Some of it could no doubt be attributed to my young age and maturing body. But even that only underscored the differences. The process of turning into a woman was so much more personal, yet so much more ... public than going through p.u.b.erty as a boy. I could see now why this age could be more difficult ... no, more intense, for girls than boys. A lowering of the voice and thickening of the muscles was nowhere near as personal as the enlarging of the b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips. A boy becoming a man showed overall changes that accented his becoming a complete adult, better able to compete and survive in the world. But a girl's outward changes accented the most intimate portions of her body, and showed her becoming a complete woman. I don't suppose I can explain to half of you, and don't need to for the other half. But I wanted to share as best I could what I was going through. Why? Because it was important to me, now that I was a young woman. I was still me, but me had a new definition. And perhaps for the better, though I would never have given up being John Wyeth.

My training continued. Raul Sanchez helped me with my military advancement. I remained stuck at private second cla.s.s, because of my age, but didn't really mind. He treated me as a person, and one whom he very much liked. Had I been about eight years older-but, no, there was no point and possible harm in that kind of speculation. He was my commanding officer and friend.

He took great pleasure in discussing tactics with me, though I found it to be only mildly interesting. I had been very active during my first military service, and had pride in what I had done for my country, but it was also a part of my life I was glad to emerge from. Sanchez seemed to understand, and after a while kept the conversations limited in length. But I learned a great deal from him.

I continued to make friends with most everyone, but especially with the ladies of Company A. After having said I was glad to emerge from my military service, I also realized that I had missed the camaraderie that came with soldiers who depended on each other for their lives. Although I had not seen any action, I knew they had gone through much to rescue my from my riping, and genuinely appreciated what reciprocation I could offer. I very much looked forward to the times when Company A came back from battle and I could listen to their tales and trade bawdy songs with them in the showers.

Sergeant Thawell provided most of my field training. He scoffed at the idea at first, calling it a waste of time. He kept referring to me as an it, and clearly thought of me as some sort of freak. I think he took me as an affront to his manhood, and thought me weak because I was now female, though there were over a dozen women in Company A whom he treated as equals. We were getting nowhere fast. So one afternoon in the mountains, during combat drill, I took him aside and explained things to him. Wanting to emphasis my points, I broke his arm and three ribs before he started taking me seriously. When he did, I had no chance. He put up a good argument, b.l.o.o.d.ying my nose and breaking my wrist, but he eventually came around to my point of view, and we got along fine after that.