"Maybe not," answered his wife Ella. "Cues only have feelings about an IHAD, never memories, terrible feelings they only want to recover from." She shivered slightly, remembering her own experience. "And most don't want to recall what are to them the fresh memories of a life they're usually glad is gone."

"True. But from what Corporal Geher has told us, this one is not like most Cues. I would prefer to have prepared a consistent response to give her upon awaking."

Sanchez turned to Betty with questioning eyes. Betty nodded.

"You are right, Sergeant. She will want to know her status. She has a talent at deducing a situation quickly. When she wakes up, she's going to know we know. What she doesn't know yet is how important it is."

"Don't tell her anything. Just lock her out of the system and keep her in the laundry," Thawell said.

"Ah, the refreshing military approach to secrecy," Dr. Barrett said acidly. "'Don't tell n.o.body nuthin!' I don't think it will work, Sergeant." He started ticking off his fingers. "In the five days since cognitive reconstruction had finished restoring her, she has: roused herself out of Healer's Sleep, nearly escaped, already shown positive signs of adjustment to her new body, with a glance accurately identified several of our technologies, and even in an induced state managed to frustrate our interviewers. No offense, Betty."

"None taken, Doctor, because you're right. No, I think we must tell her at least some of it, because she is going to find out. I also have a hunch that because of her curiosity and skills, she'll be looking to access the puterverse before long. When that happens, it is imperative that someone is with her." She indicated Susan, who was still silent, a part of the group but also removed. "Susie knows her the best. Let's stick to SOP. Counselors always have the decision of disclosure. Let's keep it that way."

"My thought exactly, Betty. We'll stay with normal protocols." A simple statement, but understood by all to be an iron-clad order. Sanchez glanced at Williams. "How much longer to complete the IHAD?"

Williams replied quickly, "Further questioning would be too risky. We could continue for another two days and still only whet our curiosity. I recommend we end the IHAD now. That would allow her to wake up sometime tomorrow morning, when Susie will be with her in their quarters."

"Thank you, Private. Betty?"

"End it now."

He looked over to Susan, at the end of the table. Even in the close company of eight people, he thought she looked strangely alone.

"Susan?"

She nodded her agreement with the others.

Lt. Sanchez nodded and everyone else rose. "Very well, then. The IHAD is over, and the Third awaits the final decision of the counselor. I trust Those Above Us will approve of our course of action. Doctor Barrett, please see to your patient. Dismissed."

The group broke up. Though the discussions would continue in private, nothing would be said outside the group unless Sanchez ordered otherwise.

Susie took Dr. Barrett to check on the girl, who lay like a crumpled doll on her bed. The treatment was very quick, but effective. He administered a mild drug that allowed her to drift from a conditioned, responsive stupor into a restoring, restful sleep. He monitored her for a few minutes, holding her small hands in his, until her breathing slowed and deepened. He tucked her hands under the cover and stood up.

"She should sleep until morning. But I've underestimated her recuperative powers before, so she may wake up sometime during the night. If she does, there's no need to call me unless she shards. You, by yourself, will be the best medicine she can have. If she wants, I'll look at her tomorrow afternoon. Good day." He left, and the waiting began.

Susie quietly asked for the time and was as quietly told it was well past midnight. She called for the lights to be shut off completely, then sat in the dark, in a blackness that can only be achieved inside a cave. She stared into the black at the unseen bed with her still sleeping charge, occasionally rubbing her bare legs and caressing her bare arms, as though rea.s.suring herself the total darkness had not stolen away her own body. She was tired, but not sleepy. Sighing, she leaned against the slightly warm, smooth rock wall and closed her eyes.

And waited.

The tension, building steadily for twenty minutes, was nearing breaking point. Susie brought a hand up and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Private Owasuna was staring at Susie, her tabinal lying on the floor, forgotten. Her face was pale with horrific realization and fear. Susie looked down the barrel of her gun to the point of light on the young girl's head.

"I'm sorry, Gretchen, whom did you say you worked for from 2406 to 2418?"

"I worked for PulseDynamo Tech Systems, in Sydney ."

"I see." Betty's voice was calm but forced, her breathing labored. Betty licked her dry lips. "And where did you work from 2406 to 2418?"

"I worked for General s.p.a.ce Outrigging, on Platform 213, Station Gamma."

Susie felt her stomach knot. Station Gamma was lost during the Canadian terrorist incident in 2295, nearly a century before Gretchen's birth. She stretched her arm to its full length. She was judge, jury ... The trigger seemed to be set in stone. Betty looked with sick eyes at Susie, then turned back to the girl, lying on the bed. She reached out a gentle hand and stroked the silky blond hair. She caressed the thin cheek. When she spoke again, her voice was choked.

"I see. And where did you work from 2406 to 2418?"

"I didn't. I stayed at home, in Des Moines , taking care of our four children."

Betty pulled her hand away, and it fell limp to her side. She closed her eyes.

"I see. And where did you work from 2406 to 2418?"

"I worked at Highland Mining, near Glasgow , Scot-"

The beam, less than one millimeter in diameter, gave off little light and no heat. As it traversed its target, the one-second burst continued on and cut a ten centimeter path to a depth of fifteen centimeters into the solid rock wall before terminating.

Ryoko was on her hands and knees, sobbing and being violently ill. Betty held her head in her hands, suddenly appearing much older than her fifty years. Slowly, Susie lowered her gun and shut it off in mid-recharge. She holstered it and stumbled out of her quarters and into the primary hanger. She didn't even notice the bright desert light striking her eyes as it poured in from the shielded cavern opening. Just as she stepped clear of the door, a faint, sickly sweet odor touched her nostrils, and she very nearly vomited from the loathsome stench.

Alan Lockwood stood up from the wall he had been leaning against. He had been Susie's partner during the research on Gretchen. Though she had taken over entirely upon reintegration, he was still very much involved.

"So, how's the IHAD go..." He grabbed her as she staggered against him. She stared up at him, unseeing, silently crying, then lowered her head against his chest and held it there for a long, long time.

Susie was a dog now.

Susie sat up suddenly. She had drifted off to sleep, slumping down to her pillow. She looked around, but it was still pitch dark. She heard sharp, broken breathing coming from the girl's bed. She was awake and crying silently.

Susie silently rose and went to her bed. She sat down at the edge, and reached out a hand, touching the girl's hand. It was jerked away. Determined, Susie groped around and found it again. Taking the trembling hand, she held it firmly. A moment pa.s.sed, then another. Suddenly, the girl lunged against her, clinging to her and wailing. Susie stroked the soft straight hair and wrapped an arm around her. Slowly, she worked herself under the covers and lay next to the still weeping girl, who wrapped herself even tighter around her. Susie felt the girl's tears soaking into her top as she wept with inconsolable sorrow. She hugged the child, and held her close.

And waited.

Chapter Seven.

It was still pitch black when I opened my eyes. I was pressed up against Susan, my head resting on her breast. She had fallen asleep. I lay quiet, not wanting to waken her. She was warm, and I could hear her steady heartbeat. I closed my eyes again and listened, letting the rhythmic thudding coax me into relaxation. I struggled to understand what had happened.

I remember that I was standing, nervously waiting for the inducer to be set off. It must have taken effect instantaneously, for the next memory I had was waking up in the darkness, feeling utterly abandoned and worthless. Susie must have been waiting for me, for she had been at my side even as I cried myself awake.

If the state I was in could be called awake. It was the agonizing realm of not quite aware nightmare. That time when you still feel the terror, but have none of the memory. That was how I felt when I came to. I had first become aware of how difficult my breathing was. Then I felt a tingling in my muscles, and a jerking that was just beyond my control. It was far, far worse than Healer's Sleep, which provided warmth and comfort, if a vague sense of frustration. But this was a smothering weight of the bitter memories of still felt sensations, a lingering coldness that was very real. Even now, some time after the episode, I can feel it in the recesses of my wounded psyche.

Despite being warned, I had no way of knowing about or being prepared for the overwhelming sense of fear and exposure that seized me. Being able to look back on it, now that it had pa.s.sed, I could understand why. No doubt the intrusion into my mind, my being, was near absolute. I couldn't tell what time it was, but I supposed it was the middle of the night. Susie had told me it would last only two or three hours. We had even made plans for the evening. But they probably found more than they thought, and had taken at least twelve hours to ... to...

Without warning, a sense of numbing, terrifying dread overwhelmed me. I again felt stripped and vulnerable, exposed and humiliated. I filled my lungs with a deep, quavering breath, but still couldn't breathe. My chest hurt, and I felt my body tightening with spasms. My helplessness and complete lack of control terrified me. I choked off a sob. To survive the debilitating attack, I knew I needed an anchor. My head, though my neck muscles were taut, was still against Susie's chest. This woman, my friend, would be my anchor. I tried to shut out the demons tearing at me and concentrated on Susie's rea.s.suring heartbeat, forcing myself to breathe.

Slowly at first, then with growing relief, I felt the attack recede. Even as the thought came, I felt the surge of dread begin to shoot through me. I thought about the Susie's steady heartbeat. I imagined my heart beating at the same rate as hers, allowing it to become slow and steady. The second wave faded.

Peacefulness laid a tenuous and gossamer thin cloak over me. It settled on my skin, then soaked deeper. I kept my focus, and it penetrated further. But I was badly shaken. This wasn't a remnant or flashback. I had gone from being my own person to being a ... a thing, all in the s.p.a.ce of two heartbeats. It left me frightened and unsure. Unsure...

Panic gripped me. Tears began streaming without letup. I pressed my lips tight to stop their trembling. My arm, wrapped around Susie's waist, tightened. No! Please! NO! Thud-ud. Thud-ud. Slow. Steady. Rea.s.suring. Non-threatening. I consciously loosened my grip on her, but still clung. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. Breathe in. Thud-ud. Breathe out. Thud-ud. Soothing regularity. Peaceful rhythm. Thud-ud. Listen carefully ... I opened my mouth with a silent scream as it rushed at me again, a huge beast that meant to destroy my body, my mind, me.

My throat tightened and closed as the horror of my shame savaged me. I whimpered, then moaned, shuddering the length of my body. With horror, I realized I couldn't hear her heart! I sobbed, and my tears began wetting her top, still damp from earlier. Her heart! Where was her heartbeat? Thinking of nothing else, I again tightened my grip and pushed my head harder against her chest. Desperation and intense hopelessness engulfed me.

She brought her arms around me, holding me tight. My body was heaving with wracking sobs. I felt dirty. Used. Cast aside, like PLEASE HIT ME AGAIN. IT'S MY FAULT I'M NOT BLEEDING ENOUGH. UHHH! THANK YOU! I'M ASHAMED TO ASK ANYTHING, BUT HIT ME AGAIN, PLEASE! I ONLY WANT TO DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY. YES, I LOVE BEING BEATEN. UHHHH! I'M SORRY I FELL DOWN. YES, YOU SHOULD HIT ME BECAUSE I FELL DOWN. IT'S YOUR RIGHT. I WANT YOU TO UHHH! HIT ME. I-I-I CAN'T BREATHE RIGHT. UHHH! NO, I'D NEVER COMPLAIN. I'M UHH!!! HAPPY, BECAUSE ... BECAUSE YOU UHH! ARE.

so much garbage. I had been laid open and exposed for all to destroy and mock, and I had allowed it. Had I enjoyed it? Shame struck deep into the very core of my being. If I couldn't stop it, then maybe I deserved...

NO! I pounded on Susan with all my feeble strength, fighting off my despair and sense of worthlessness. IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! I did not do this to myself! I did not allow it! It was forced on me! I had no choice! IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! Still, I clung to Susie, unaware of any attentions she may be giving me. Then I did become aware, slowly, that she was holding me to her, tightly, as though trying to share my pain. Her care made me feel worthwhile. I felt the stirrings of control, shreds of respect returning to me.

But how did I know she really cared for me? Doubt gripped my mind, strangled my will. Insecurity and guilt raked my mind. You little fool! You completely helpless, worthless, fool. A rancid, meaningless piece of...

"NO!" I shrieked. "IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! NO! No!..." I clenched my teeth and fought my terror back. My face was still buried in Susie's chest. I fought off my doubts and turned my ear to her breast again. I forced myself to stop sobbing and listened again for her heartbeat.

Horror ... self-hatred ... "No," I whispered. Listen! I held Susie with all my strength. "No." Then I heard it. Thud-ud. Steady. Thud-ud. Doubt ... shame ... humiliation. "No." Thud-ud. Thud-ud.

I felt Susie's hugs again, and heard her whispering quietly in my ear. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. I let her share her strength with me. Why was she sharing? Doubt ignited suspicion. Mistrust exploded inside me, shooting panic like shrapnel through my being. I began to pull away, then stopped myself and with great effort went back into her embrace, placing my ear against her left breast once again. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. She stroked my hair, still whispering. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. I reached up a shaky hand and placed it on her cheek. It was wet with tears. Mesmerized by the thudding of her strong heart, I ran my fingers over to her hair, letting the thick, curly strands trickle and flow through my fingers. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. I lowered my hand and let it rest on her chest. I sighed and felt the smallest tingle. It was an emotion, no a feeling. No, it was a sense of being. I felt secure. Safe. Protected. My mind slowly came back to be my own. I was becoming me again. My horror and self-loathing had faded. Thud-ud. Thudud. I told myself it was time to heal, and I believed it. Thud-ud. Thud-ud. Tears welled up, and I began to cry again. But this time it was not the uncontrollable crying of hopelessness, nor the painful wail of desolate anguish. It was the cleansing weeping of acceptance and restoration.

I neither knew nor cared how long I wept. But gradually my tears slowed then stopped. I would be a long time recovering from these sensations of humility and vulnerability, but now I knew I would recover.

"How are you, little one?" Susan whispered.

I lay against her and remained silent. She waited several minutes, then softly repeated the question, kissing me gently on the forehead. I turned my face up to her and stared into the darkness. I stretched up my hand and ran my fingers over her face, as though I was blind and wanted to know her. I explored her features, her soft skin, her full lips, her strong cheeks. She seemed so much older and in control than me. In that moment, she seemed much more my mother than my friend. I pulled my hand back to my mouth and sucked a finger. It was a very childish thing to do, but I was feeling very much the child. I listened to her heart and soaked up the warmth of our bodies huddled together under the blanket.

Very quietly, and showing no impatience whatsoever, Susie repeated a third time, "It helps to talk. I know. How are you feeling?" I still waited awhile longer before I finally stopped sucking my fingers and answered her question.

"I-I don't ... I'm not sure. I think I'm going to be okay. I hope I never have to ... have to..." I started sobbing. Doubt and fear and shame turned over inside me...

"Shhhh. Shhhh. Settle down. Here, hold me tight. Quiet." She rubbed my shoulders to soothe the building tenseness. "You won't have to ever again. Once is too often as it is. I promise you, it will never happen again."

I said nothing, but lowered my head and listened to her heart, never wanting to leave her side.

"Susan?"

"Hmm?"

"I ... I want you to promise me it won't happen again. Please?"

"I promise it will never happen again."

"No. That's not enough. Promise me it won't happen again."

Somehow, she knew what I meant. Lying there, cradling me in the total darkness, she knew exactly what I wanted. What I needed. Whispering so quietly that only a young girl wrapped tightly in her arms could hear her, she said: "You will never be put through that horror again. You will never again suffer that humiliation. I make you my promise," she paused and my heart pounded. "Abigail."

Abigail.

My name was Abigail. John Wyeth was gone, swept away by my ordeal, my new fragile emotions, my new body, my new reality. He stood on the other side of an abyss from which I would never, could never, cross back. I could look back on him, see him at a distance, even remember being him. But I wasn't him. Not anymore. And with a curiously comforting knowledge, I accepted that I didn't want to be him. John Wyeth was gone forever, and Abigail Wyeth had started her life. And I was Abigail Wyeth.

I whispered my name, hearing it from my own lips. At its sound, I found myself relaxing in her arms, even as I felt a thudding excitement in my chest at the sound of my new name. No, in my breast. My soft, lovely, feminine breast. For if there was ever any physical proof needed to verify the absolute certainty of who I was, that evidence was before me now, at that moment. I lay in the arms of a beautiful woman clad in only the bare essentials, as I no doubt was, and the stirrings I felt for her were of warmth, safety, sisterly familiarity, and the fervent wish she would be my best friend forever.

"Abigail," I said again, in a low voice. I smiled at how easily the name rested on my ears. My smile slowly grew and spread to my heart. I felt a sense of completion.

I nodded, feeling sleepy. I had been put through the wringer, both by my new friends and by myself. A flutter of ... no. I was tired, very tired. I wriggled down to my pillow, so Susie could lie down beside me or return to her bed. I was quietly happy when she snuggled down next to me and brought an arm over me.

"Good night, Abigail. Pleasant dreams." She laid her head down, and I could feel her breath on the nape of my neck. Several minutes pa.s.sed, and her breathing slowed and steadied, and she was asleep, her arm still around me, protecting me.

"Abigail," I said, not quite stifling a yawn. "Yes. My name is Abigail."

It was morning when I woke up. Somehow the lighting in the room mimicked sunlight so perfectly that I was convinced it was morning, though it could have been the middle of the day, or even night, for any actual evidence. Regardless, whatever sleep I had gotten since falling asleep, I felt awake and lively.

Susie was still beside me, but had shifted in the night and no longer had her arm around me. That made it very easy to slip out of bed. I expected the floor to be cold, but it was nicely warm to my bare feet. I stood up and stretched. I didn't know if I would have any flashbacks like last...

The horror and shame came up. I shook my head and bent over. But I refused to surrender to it. It seemed less powerful, more fragile. A moment longer, and the feeling pa.s.sed. There were going to be aftereffects, then.

I was shaken, but not badly. And I wasn't going to let it disrupt my day right from the beginning. I tried to think of something else. Looking around, I noticed Susie's bathrobe lying on the floor. A shower. Yes. That would clear my head and keep me busy. It would also let Susie sleep in a little longer.

I slipped on her robe and was pleased that it fit fairly well, as bathrobes go. I wondered if my clothes had been brought in yet and decided to search. Right now, my earthly possessions were the clothes I had worn yesterday and the pajamas I had on now. I opened the first set of drawers on the wall opposite the foot of my bed and was rewarded on the first try. Several sets and changes lay neatly folded, waiting for me to select from. I chose a nice outfit that included a skirt that went nearly to the knee, proper underwear and a kind of, I don't know, aerobic suit thingy that would cover my torso and arms. I guess I'd have to learn the names of these things, and quick, too. I mentally crossed three-piece vested suit off my vocabulary and added aerobic suit thingy. I looked around for towels, then remembered the showers already had some. Gathering up my clothes, I left.

Or tried to leave. The door wouldn't open and I all but slammed into it. I was in a rush because I didn't need to use just the showers. Yet instead of fading away, the door stood resolutely in place. I reached out and touched it; it remained solid. Panic filled me as I realized I was their prisoner. They had no intention of ever letting me...

No! Knock it off, Abigail! You've a brain, so use it. I turned on the gray matter. Since I couldn't turn off my wild emotions I turned them down. Of course the door wasn't set to automatic; people like privacy. I remembered Susie knocking on Corporal Geher's door just yesterday, so this was probably in the same state. I looked around for a control panel and located it near the door "jamb", for lack of a better word, but less than a meter above the floor. That would make it an override in case of difficulty, which in turn meant the door was voice and/or proximity activated. Easy enough.

"Open, please," I said as quietly as I could. Too quietly, for the door stayed put. I tried again, a little louder, and this time I saw a shimmer ripple through it. It remained opaque, but an investigating hand pa.s.sed through with no resistance. I followed my hand into the hall.

The corridor was brightly lit with several people moving along it. Suddenly self-conscious, I ducked my head a little bit, staring at the floor. Holding my clothes tight to my chest, and hugging the right wall, I went along the short distance to the ladies room. I received several looks, but they were always accompanied with a smile. By the time I had pa.s.sed the third such person, I was smiling shyly back at them. Still, the bathroom door was a welcomed goal.

I pa.s.sed inside. Billows of steam rolled toward me as the momentary breach in the doorway tugged at it. I started turning very red, and not from the heat, which felt glorious. I had gone from frying pan into the fire. I have no idea why I so shortsightedly thought it, but I had a.s.sumed the facilities would be empty. Stupid a.s.sumption, knowing this was the only such facility in the entire complex. There were no fewer than ten women attending to their morning ablutions, laughing and talking animatedly amongst themselves. Three of them, in the showers, were engaged in a loud song. Doors had come just a bit too far technologically. There had been no warning nor even the hint of sound until I had pa.s.sed through.

And now it was too late. Even as I wondered if I could sneak out and come back at a quieter time, eyes started turning toward me. Eyes that looked on me and knew me for who I was and, much more embarra.s.sing, what I had been. My heart started pounding, and I felt fear rousing itself. It began to ... no. I forced it down. I took a quick step back, stumbled over my feet, and fell on my backside. My face burning, I s.n.a.t.c.hed up my clothes from where they'd fallen and stood up. I mumbled some apology and turned to go.

Someone took a firm yet friendly hold of my arm.

"Hi! My name's Sarah Grominski. I'm a private in enforcement Company A."

I turned back and looked at the woman. Only she wasn't much more than a girl. A big girl. A very big girl. She couldn't have been over twenty, but she was well muscled, though not too bulky, and had a strong upper body, which was pretty obvious as she only had a towel wrapped loosely around her waist. Her face was strong and friendly, the features putting the stamp of authenticity on her ethnic surname. If ever I expected to see a cigar sticking out of a young lady's mouth, this would have been the one. But she was comely, too. To her I probably looked like a hothouse flower.