*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/461638
Rated: GC · Book · Action/Adventure · #1167223
A Navy SEAL, crippled by wounds, is given a chance to be whole again … but at what price?
#461638 added October 14, 2006 at 10:41pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5

”How did the Forerunners get here?” Brandi asked as she applied a liberal coating of ketchup to the huge hamburger on the tray table before her.

Brandi preferred to eat in her room, usually in bed as she was today. Though she endured whatever tests or exercises they asked of her, almost always observed by numerous scientists, she felt uncomfortable around people in a less controlled environment like the cafeteria. She complained to Susan that they looked at her like she was a lab rat, or worse a freak. It was the main reason Susan desperately wanted to get her out of the lab, if only for a few hours each week, so she could be exposed to people who would see her only as a beautiful young woman.

“We’re not sure,” Susan said as she watched Brandi begin to devour the hamburger, her second. The girl had an appetite like a horse. “So far no evidence has been found of any kind of landing site. There is mention in one of the historical files we have translated of ‘passing through the gateway to the new world’, but we’re not sure if that is literal or poetic.”

“So they might have come through some kind of portal, like on Stargate?”

“It’s a possibility,” Susan said. “Are you finished or do you want a third?”

“No, two will hold me for a while,” Brandi said after a moment’s consideration. “I guess I should get dressed for play time.”

Brandi threw back the covers and hopped out of the bed, totally naked. She showed no modesty at all standing nude in front of a room full of people, cameras rolling, yet she resisted every suggestion that she wear feminine clothes. On the rare occasions she did wander the corridors, she wore a pair of black BDUs and an over sized t-shirt. The only female clothing she would wear was her undergarments, and that was more a concession to comfort than a desire to wear them.

She slipped on a pair of panties and a sports bra, the only type of bra she would wear, and then slid on a pair of black tights. Again, the tights were a concession to practicality; she would be sparring today instead of her usual solo workout.

“Brandi can I ask you a question?” Susan asked as she watched the young woman.

“Because I’m afraid,” Brandi answered as she tied up her sneakers. She had a habit of answering questions before they were asked. It was not that she could read minds, but rather she read people. Her enhanced senses gave her a flood of information about a person, and her mind was capable of processing it all astonishingly fast. She had sensed Susan’s discomfort over the question she wanted to ask, and linked it to her getting dressed.

“I can’t bring myself to dress like a girl because I’m afraid I’ll like it. I’m not ready for that yet.”

“All right sweetheart, I don’t want to rush you,” Susan said. “We have plenty of time for you to adjust.”

That was bitterly true, Susan knew. In the three weeks since Brandon had been transformed into Brandi, Susan had requested repeatedly that she be allowed to take the girl out into the world. She knew the clinical environment of the lab was stifling Brandi’s emotional development. But every time she had been told no; it was too great a risk.

She knew Brandi was excited about today’s agenda. Generally, Brandi cooperated with whatever tests or exercises she was asked to endure, but she did so without enthusiasm. Today she was downright giddy.

“It’s nice to see you happy,” Susan said. She was becoming very attached to this young woman.

Brandi finished tying her other shoe and paused to regard Susan before speaking.

“I don’t know if happy is the right word,” She said slowly. “But I am, like, excited. I do want to see how I do against real opponents.”

“I see.”

“Susan I know you’re worried about me,” Brandi said, her voice growing quiet. “The last thing I want to do is stress you out. It’s very hard; I mean I still think of myself as a man, even though I don’t feel that way. Hell I even talk like a teenager. Sometimes I’m afraid I really am turning into a bimbo.”

“What’s the square root of two hundred forty six?”

“Fifteen point six eight four three eight seven one four one three…,” Brandi rattled off the digits without hesitation.

“Enough!” Susan laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. I think your mind is functioning just fine.”

“Yeah but if a stranger had asked me that I would have said, ‘Um, numbers have roots…and they’re square?’” Brandi giggled.

They left Brandi’s room and walked a short distance away to a much larger room which had been set up for physical testing and training. There was a variety of exercise equipment and the floor at the center of the room was padded. A larger window on the high wall marked the location of the observation room.

Five men stood on the edge of the exercise mat. Four were dressed in shorts and tight t-shirts that clung to their muscular bodies. They were all six feet or taller, and all wore stony expressions on their faces.

“Oooh, new toys,” Brandi purred sexily, slipping seamlessly into her role. “They are all that and then some. But like, who’s the tin soldier?”

The fifth man, dressed in the grey BDUs of the security force, stepped forward.

“Brandi this is Evan Mitchell, head of the security detail,” Susan said.

“Hmm,” was all Brandi said. It was evident that she did not like Mitchell on sight.

“I’m here to make sure you don’t get out of control,” Mitchell said flatly.

Brandi giggled at that, “Honey think whatever makes you feel good.”

“I’ll be upstairs in the observation room,” Susan told Brandi and then slipped out through a side door.

Brandi stepped to the center of the mat and stretched a bit, making a show of it in front of her sparring partners. When she finished, she adopted a sexy pose with her hip cocked and smiled at them suggestively.

“There’s only one rule here boys; fight hard,” she said sweetly. “Treat me like a girl and I will hurt you.”

The four men glanced at each other and then at Mitchell, who simply nodded his head.

They rushed her as a group but Brandi dodged all their attacks. She took a defensive posture and let them initiate for a time, using the opportunity to judge their strengths and weaknesses. Once she was satisfied, she went offensive, taking one to the ground with a hard kick to the stomach and another with a driving punch to the gut followed up with a palm driven up under his chin.

The third grabbed her from behind as the fourth man came in, punching her hard in the abdomen twice. Brandi let out a cry of pain and then tears began streaming down her face as she started crying. The man backed away, confused, and Brandi rewarded him with a kick to the groin…she pulled it so it did not do serious damage…followed by a second kick to the face as he doubled over.

The remaining man held her still from behind, his arms looped under hers with his hands behind her head.

“Afraid to squeeze tighter honey?” Brandi asked as she pretended to struggle to break free.

“I wouldn’t wanna make you cry anymore,” the man leered. “I couldn’t bear to hurt a pretty thing like you.”

“To bad I don’t feel the same way,” Brandi said as she snapped her head back, flattening his nose. To give him credit he maintained his grip but it did not matter as Brandi reached up, grabbed his hands and twisted, snapping both his wrists.

“I warned you not to treat me like a girl!” she hissed as he fell to the mat, crying out in pain.

Brandi looked up at the observation window, her face angry as she said, “Next time get me some guys with fucking balls! If you’re gonna just waste my ti…”

Her words were cut short as she felt two pricks in her back. Then the muscles of her body tensed as fifty thousand volts of electricity surged through her from the taser gun in Evan Mitchell’s hands.

Brandi crumpled to her knees, tried to rise but seemed unable to get her legs under her. She managed to reach around and pull the darts out, but still seemed shaky and uncoordinated as she regained her feet. She turned shakily towards Mitchell, just in time to receive a blow across the side of the head from the collapsible baton he held in the other hand. He followed the blow up with two more, across the stomach and then to the back and Brandi pitched forward onto the mat with a cry of pain. She struggled to rise but Mitchell brought the baton down across her back again.

“That’s enough Mitchell, you bastard!” Susan screamed as she flew through the door into the room.

“She injured one of my men!” Mitchell protested.

“That doesn’t justify beating the hell out of her!” Susan screamed back, her face livid.

“Hey she’s supposed to be the super soldier,” Mitchell shrugged. “She needs to learn to watch her back.”

Medical teams entered the training room to treat Brandi and the man with the broken wrists. It turned out she had also broken the jaw of the man she had kicked in the groin. As they tried to load Brandi on a gurney she shook their hands off and then limped out of the training room. By the time Susan caught up with her, Brandi was in bed in her room in a deep sleep. When Susan tried to wake her, she did not respond. Near panic, Susan called the medical team and they rushed Brandi to the infirmary.


© Copyright 2006 Scott Ramsey (UN: scottramsey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Scott Ramsey has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/461638