Amazon: Regenesis
by Itinerant
edited by Amelia R.
Amazon – Part 7: CHARM SCHOOL Week 3
Biographer's Note: This is Nicole's story. It covers those events and people she finds notable in her life and chooses to share. If you have problems with it, take it up with her. I'm just a glorified stenographer.
Monday, January 22, 2001
Washington, D.C.
The orders were clear, even if the scope of the task itself was not.
Carson Sinclair had been directed to follow up on a company known to be used as a front by Artemis—Wing Ground Sensor Systems and their employees. She'd long before been identified as one of the company's Board of Directors, and was suspected of preparing it for use as a staging ground for the Amazons, if and when they reappeared. There wasn't any concrete evidence of relevant activity, but there was no reason not to watch, just in case. For some time they'd had an observer, and monitoring systems, watching the facility, as the American capital had one of their larger offices, given the concentration of political, military, and economic power in the country.
Sinclair had been dispatched from the central complex to the Washington, D.C. facility to follow up on that tenuous lead. He had been at the monitor desk almost exactly two months ago when the excrement hit the rotary impeller, and had led the analysis team that desperately reviewed the audio, video, and documentation trails in a search for the newly designated Amazon queen. Now, after each trail had petered out, he was the reigning expert on the situation. He'd prepared the information summaries for the chairman, and knew precisely what had and had not been done.
A little over two weeks ago, the D.C. facility staff had suffered a breakdown in their video playback equipment. It wasn't unheard of, but annoying nevertheless. The technician who'd normally review the feed from WGSS in real time had spent the day and weekend working on repairing the equipment. The record functions hadn't failed, but the stored data was inaccessible. The playback of the video feed had been delayed until the following Monday. Once the repairs had been accomplished, a flurry of activity commenced. The D.C. staff had spotted a new vehicle as it pulled into the parking lot. The observers began tracking a tall, young woman with red hair who had entered the facility. She was later observed to accompany WGSS' field team head, a David Stirling, as he left around the lunch hour.
They'd managed to trace the car's plates to a rental agency, but it had been turned in at Dulles on Sunday. Two men had reviewed the current video feed recordings, but the redhead hadn't reappeared.
Carson now had a picture, but would have to work at tracking her down. There had been too many flights in and out of Dulles to make a guess as to where she'd gone. The agents working as vending machine service personnel were called in for debriefings. They would also be given instructions to delicately inquire about 'that visitor a couple of weeks ago.'
He contacted headquarters and arranged for the computing staff to try to get the data they needed from the WGSS systems. It was a shame it had taken two weeks, but he was determined to make up for the loss of time.
Doubletree Suites
6:00PM PST
The room echoed with the loud 'clack' of the latching door as Nicole walked in. She'd picked up something to eat on the way that had been filling, but it had hardly registered what it had been or where she'd gotten it. It just wasn't as much fun eating alone, and without an external distraction her mind had begun working on the ramifications of the day's class content.
As she settled in for the evening, she considered for a time what she could do to fill the week that lay ahead. She dropped the stack of materials from class on the desk, stopped for a moment, and moved them to a spare corner of the dresser. She had ignored the computer up to now, but with far too much time on her hands it was an opportunity to check in with the mail from work. Perhaps she'd also be able to do some expense reports and save some time on the other end of this trip.
The paperwork was more than balanced by the end—at last! -- of her period. She sent up a 'thank you' for the warmth of the last few days that had made the physical discomfort easier.
The loneliness was still hard to take. Even this morning, she had awakened with a second pillow in her arms as her subconscious mind reacted to the absence of her new friend.
A good thing for the week was that with only four days of classes, she had some extra time to gear up for her first trip out of the country, in either incarnation, in years, and the class today had been reasonably relevant. She'd been so deep into computer systems and databases that she'd not looked into cultural differences, but the "International Protocol: 'Pre-meeting strategy' and 'Rank and status differences'" class had fascinated her with the insights into not only oriental cultures, but the startling differences between American and European cultures. With a start, she also realized that between the requirements of her job at WGSS and the need to cope with multiple cultures in setting up the Amazons, this week of class could be critical.
~I guess sometimes we can forget how far we've grown away from our roots. Or maybe how much grafting has gone on over the last two hundred years.~
Still, it was interesting studying the mix and match of attitudes worldwide. The Asian cultures, with their very hierarchical outlook, contrasted so strongly with her American upbringing. It would be interesting to see how that played into her recruiting. Her own background role as queen would be contrasting with her foreground role as an employee, and a trainee at that. Depending on the job or office the recruit held, it might be difficult to even make proper contact, much less convince them of the meaning of the tickle.
Latin Americans would likely offer similar problems, and then there were the castes in India. ~Oh my! This little course isn't going to be half enough to cover what I'll need to learn.~
As her mind processed the data, she'd worked to quickly set up the computer. She was glad that this hotel was one of the rare breed that had an internet connection; she'd expected to have to use dial-up. A couple of mouse clicks quickly pulled up the e-mail client and downloaded the messages that had accumulated during the last two weeks.
One message was from Jeff in Personnel, acknowledging defeat in getting her back to DC from London. She quickly composed a reply thanking him for his efforts. She giggled a little as she added a part about trying to make the best of the situation. ~I think I know now why I need to be here. Kate and I have some work to do before I go to boot camp.~
A second message from the Colonel, time stamped January eighth, was more pertinent. He indicated he'd had a conversation with Dr. Wing about the situation and was satisfied at the moment. ~What does he mean by that?~ A puzzled frown creased her forehead. ~I need to make sure I talk to Michael about that.~
That message went into a folder by itself.
A few other messages covered meetings, business prospects, new contracts, and the company softball league sign-ups. ~Nothing of use there at the moment.~
She finally located the company manual on-line, and started reviewing the procedure for expense reports. As she paged through the manual, she absently worked at braiding and unbraiding her hair. The newly-learned hairstyle had proven itself in her mind, and was going to be a fixture whenever her hair was long enough to use it.
~It slices! It dices! It makes julienne fries! I'll have to pick up some elastic bands so I can give this one back to Kate. I wonder what's available?~ She considered her traveling wardrobe and what color options might be appropriate. She wasn't even aware of the changes signified by the train of thought.
It was nine o'clock before she finally came up for air, realizing that she had to get ready for bed. There wasn't time tonight, but tomorrow she wanted to talk to Michael; there was no way she wanted to be blindsided by something he'd said—again.
She quickly finished the last few weaves of her hair, secured the end with the loaned elastic band, flipped the braid over her shoulder, and headed into the bathroom.
Tuesday, January 23, 2001
Etiquette School
9:00AM PST
The cloudy day and cool morning temps left her shivering slightly as she settled in for the day. Today's class, "Communication styles, Global forms of address, Business and social introductions, and Business card giving and receiving protocol," had changed location as a leak in the roof had drizzled water over part of the previous day's room. The seating chart was changed as the new room was laid out classroom fashion, rather than conference room style. She found herself intensely focused on the information, as these next three days each had critical information she'd need. Quite aside from the international travel ahead for Wing, she needed an understanding of the different cultures and protocols so she'd be able to not blow recruiting opportunities.
Much of the new contract work the company was getting centered in the Arab world, and it would be hard enough for a woman to operate as a team member in that area. The last thing she needed to do was accidentally step on toes, making her job go from hard to impossible.
The only areas of the world she could just relax appeared to be the US, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. The array of former British colonies had settled into similar social forms, despite the varied immigration patterns—excepting of course Quebec. That area still followed the French cultural forms despite the two centuries of British rule. The poor unfortunates.
Everywhere else was far less egalitarian; there were formal protocols that had to be carefully observed. It made the Wing team structure more comprehensible, since it seemed easier to broaden the technical training to include both resource and archaeological investigations than it was to successfully cross-train in the multitude of cultures they worked in.
Doubletree Suites
5:30PM PST
A salad.
She'd set out to get a hamburger and came back to the room with a salad! The smells of the sandwiches had killed her appetite, while the prospect of a bowl of rabbit food set her salivary glands working overtime. Somehow she knew she'd never look at a steak with quite the same relish.
Sigh
~More changes as I adjust to my rewired brain and body. It's like having to adapt the operating system to new hardware on the fly.~
She nibbled slowly at the food as she considered just what needed to be covered in the near term. Conversations with Michael and Artemis could wait until Friday, since it was a day off. Perhaps she could wander off Thursday night, spend time at the cabin, and get some time riding with Elizabeth. At that point she could talk with Michael about his conversation with David, and pick their brains about how to convince recruits and how to help the newbies adjust to their new physical capabilities.
In the meantime, she had several concerns; the internal needs for the Amazon Nation, the external needs of the nation, and her own personal problems and questions.
The internal needs were almost overwhelming. For recruiting, even if someone local identified them, Nicole would have to travel to each location to meet and welcome the prospect. At the moment it wasn't a concern, but as their numbers grew it would become more of a problem. She could just let Artemis induct the more remote candidates without review, but—justified or not—she didn't trust the goddess not to undermine her position.
~I can just see Artemis using the chance to set up families and clans that I won't have access to for years and having them run by local, directly loyal matriarchs. 'Queen? What Queen?' I can trust Michael, but why put Artemis in a position where she'd be tempted. Ben Franklin had it right. 'We must all hang together, or we shall all hang separately.' They must work as a team if Nicole and the Amazons were to survive.~
And she wasn't sure it was permissible, or even a good idea, to use the goddess' ability to transport from place to place to work around the travel problem.
She grabbed a blank sheet of paper the school provided for note taking and started a checklist. ~Until I get something better....~
The Amazons would need communications of some sort, something secure from interception by the opposition and any government. Even using something like PGP, organizations like the NSA could crack any communications they were sufficiently interested in. A long enough key could keep lesser organizations from eavesdropping.
She made a couple of notes on the paper before resuming her consideration of the situation. ~At some point, we'll need a place to train and equipment to use for training. What kind of training will I need to provide? I don't know, yet. How much space will the training take? I don't know that either. What kind of equipment? Don't know, as I don't know what training we'll have to do. Too many unknowns to solve the equations.~
Somehow she'd have to find money to fund it all, plus long-term international access to said funding. ~Swiss banks? Perhaps something of the sort will work if they set up some kind of Internet access, or we'll need couriers to get funds from the banks to the field. And vice-versa.~ She shook her head. ~Perhaps someone from the CIA or British Intelligence, or even someone trustworthy from the KGB, would know how to set up something like that.~
Her jaw set slightly as another train of though spun off from the funding issues. Not all the Amazons would be English speaking; what could she do with someone who gets the 'tickle' but speaks an entirely foreign language? More notes and questions went on the paper.
As she considered some of the names she'd come up with while considering the money question, it occurred that information was something she'd completely overlooked. Even in the short term, she'd need to develop information sources that could be tapped to find out what she could about this mysterious foe she faced. Not to mention someone trustworthy she could feed information to when she came across it.
~Criminal? Counter-intelligence? Do I try to dig into the FBI, CIA, or Interpol?~
She finally put down the pencil. There was a lot more thinking to do, but for the moment she also needed to keep up with the requirements of her current job. There was the need to fill out the expense reports, and that would probably take the next evening or two to get right. Not fun, but better than leaving it all until she got back and wanted to do something productive.
And then there was this whole sex change business. Nicole considered the options available for a few minutes as she worked on more of her lettuce leaves. She was sure that there wouldn't be a chance to investigate during her time in the Marines, at least not if she wanted to stay in the service. Just a few clues to chew on would help. ~Maybe there's something on Usenet, or DejaNews. Not a great choice, but what options do I really have? It isn't as if there will be a listing for the kind of counseling I'd like.~
Later this week, she'd try to find someplace that sold blank books with acid-free paper. Now was the time to start another tradition; she wanted a book to make notes to herself, but also another set of books as a journal to archive her memories and thoughts for future generations when she finished this job. With a sigh, she tossed the empty salad container and utensils into the trash before reaching for the computer bag. It was time to get the grunt work underway.
~I hope they don't quiz me on all this class stuff.~ She muttered to herself before she stopped with a grin on her face. ~Oh, yes I do! I love photographic memories!~
The spreadsheet finally popped up with the expense form laid out. After the review of the procedures last night, she had stopped by the front desk, closed out each of the previous two weeks, and had gotten a separate receipt printed for each. It made the week-by-week report submissions a little easier. She dug into her stack of receipts and began entering in the data.
The report for the first week took an hour to plug the numbers in, double check all the receipts to ensure she'd pulled all the correct slips out, and fire the spreadsheet off as an email attachment to Personnel.
Wednesday, January 24, 2001
10:00AM EST
WGSS Offices
Fairfax, VA
Amelia was reviewing the log summaries from the previous day. Internal traffic was well within the normal bounds, but the disk usage looked as if another expansion of the RAID server would be needed before the middle of the year.
She paged the display to the next set of graphs, where the contents brought a frown.
~What the ... Connection attempts have tripled since last week!~
She started fiddling with her earring as she looked at the list of IP addresses, and the locations of the systems. ~I don't recognize any of these systems. There shouldn't be anyone there that would need to connect here.~
Amelia finally turned from her monitor and called her system administrator. Someone was taking an unhealthy interest in her servers, and she wanted to first make sure they were secure, and then find out just who was at the other end.
Etiquette School
10:00AM PST
The weather was rotten! The cool temperatures were bad enough, but the blasted drizzle was turning her hair into wavy red strings. It took a couple of beats following that thought before she quietly groaned, drawing a glance from a classmate.
~Another brick knocked out of the wall. I understand the reaction, but still....~
She flipped her hair back to spread it out. With luck it would dry by midday.
Today was the second high-value day and covered "Effective gift giving", "Conversation, personal space and gestures", and "High- and low-context cultures." As she studied the material, the planning subroutine in the back of her brain started chewing. It had apparently carried over intact from her old life and was processing the information about high and low context cultures. The handouts looked like a heavily marked up rough draft with the questions and comments Nicole had inscribed. There was a lot of good info that really needed follow-up research.
It was going to take some time to get her head around the high-context cultures. The 'irrationality' of the business/artsy types was bad enough for an engineer/mathematician, but the idea of an entire country that operated on a feel-good basis sent a shudder down her spine.
The question was important; how should she approach a potential Amazon from each culture type? How much should she modify the 'proof' she tried to offer?
She shook her head and refocused on the class as best she could.
Doubletree Suites
6:00PM PST
The evening's e-mail check had produced a message from Jeff that included a marked up copy of the first expense report. She was impressed; he was really good at saying "No, you fool! The manual says do it this way!" without making you feel too bad.
She pulled up the blank form and started entering in the data from last week, being careful to follow the oh-so-clear directions from the manual.
~Envelopes. When I go to get the blank journal books, I should get some envelopes to hold the receipts for each week.~
The second week's entry took less time as she had the manual in her memory now, and the clarifications from the first form. It was only eight o'clock when she finished; early enough to try to accomplish something yet this evening, but too late to actually go do some shopping.
She grabbed the phone book and started looking for local bookstores, though she might wind up waiting for her return to L.A. There was a much better chance she'd find what she was looking for there; perhaps even the Tanners would know someone who sold such things.
~Then again, if I do start a journal, we start having the risk of someone stealing it or finding and reading it. I don't want a stranger having that kind of information.~
She checked the index for some kind of clue about where archival material could be purchased. She smiled grimly as she pondered the need to have it last as long as she would, perhaps hundreds of years. Anyone who was gung-ho on living forever obviously never really thought about what it meant when you were leaving behind everyone you loved.
Not that there was anyone that fell into that category for her at the moment. Kate was the closest, but at the moment even she wouldn't be the loss that Beth had been.
~Thinking of Kate, I wonder how the last few days have gone?~ She picked up her cell phone and punched the speed dial for her friend.
"Hi Kate! I thought I'd call and see how your week was going."
The delight was clear in her friend's voice as the two caught each other up on the events of the past few days. Nicole related her chocolate-laced Saturday and the trip to San Diego on Sunday.
"I'm going back there someday. There's a lot there I think will be fun to visit."
"Maybe you can take time when you get back?"
"We'll see. I have a feeling you and I will be out practicing all the new and wonderful skills I'll have learned in England."
A snicker came from the other end of the line. "Your tongue is planted so far into your cheek I can hardly understand what you're saying."
"Kate, I've also been thinking...."
"Uh-oh!"
"Hush, child!" Nicole giggled. "I'd like you to work at putting a list together for me. Books, movies, magazines, and anything else you can think of that I should know about if I had really grown up as a girl. Oh, and music! I could tell you more than you want to about Elvis, Buddy Holly, and a lot of others from the '50s. I'll want to learn about all the bands you listened to when you were growing up. And toys, too; make sure you list the toys you had as a girl."
"So you want all the secrets of my doll days? You'll have to learn the secret handshake." Kate started to chuckle, then broke into a loud laugh. Once she'd finished laughing, Kate started relating the tale of her last few days. She and Alex had spent time Friday night catching up on the time they'd missed during the week. She'd also had time for a long talk with her mother about what was going on with Nicole.
"Nicole, she's in 'Mom Mode'. She knows something's up, but not what. It's going to get harder to keep her from knowing something more than just friendship is going on, and you know my dad isn't exactly stupid either. And then there's Alex; if we stay together, he'll have to know. If I don't tell him, he'll find out anyway." She paused. "I can't lie to them—I just can't."
Nicole wrestled for a moment with her thoughts. ~She's right, for the long term. Anyone that's close to one of us will find out.~
"Kate, hold them off for a couple of weeks at least. I'll be back here, and we'll have time to really talk it over. I don't want to make a snap judgment when we can take the time to think."
"Okay, I'll be able to handle that. I just don't think I can stall indefinitely."
"I know, and I don't expect you to. And think hard about Alex; if you aren't one-hundred percent sure of where you two are going, we shouldn't bring him in. Have you even talked to him about the exercise and Aikido classes?"
"Yes, and he thinks it's a good enough idea that he wants to sign up, too. We checked, and part-time grad students are eligible for them for a small fee, so we signed up. Nicole ... we'll talk more about it when you get back."
"Okay, sis. Just think hard, because once he's in, he's at risk. Keep your eyes and ears open, and take care of yourself and your family."
Thursday, January 25, 2001
Etiquette School
9:00AM PST
The drizzle matched her mood today. Despite having left her hair in a braid that trailed down her back, avoiding the hassles of straggly hair, she was in a funk from the conversation with Kate last night. The nagging burden of responsibility was weighing heavily this morning. It had grown last evening as she was smacked in the face with the realization that for every woman brought into the nation, another family would also be put at risk. For a moment, last night in her dreams, she'd looked into the future at the rows of faces that would be lost if she made a mistake; young and old, women and men all relying on her ability to look ahead and make the right choices.
All of them were asking her for answers, and she found herself shouting at them. "I don't know!"
She'd awakened early in a sweat and hadn't wanted to even try to go back to sleep.
She was emotionally weary as she settled in to the last class of the week, but it had at least one item that would be very helpful. "What to do before the negotiations begin, Wardrobe strategies, and Traveling smart" were all old hat. At worst she needed to revise her packing to account for the myriad of new items being female required—makeup, brushes, and nail files as well as all the monthly visitor items she'd really rather forget. The class topic on "Body language—what to avoid" was one she really thought was crucial today.
It was almost funny how the whole set of classes over the last three weeks had so many topics that would be useful for both her overt and covert jobs. It might even help her cope with the strange new society of the Marines.
The work on difficult to eat foods probably wouldn't help with boot camp cooking, though.
The Cabin
6:00PM PST
She had called Michael after returning to her room following the last class of the day and had asked him if she could spend some time at the cabin since there wasn't a class Friday. He'd agreed, and added that it was good for her not to be alone too much either. She'd nodded in agreement and had relished the comfort of the hug he'd added.
The warmth and soft green of the surrounding forest seemed to refresh her spirit. Nicole grinned a little at the thought that her time here was now 'the good old days' of her new life. He suggested she go say 'Hi' to the horses and get them settled in for the night while he set up something for the evening meal.
It was weird, she thought as she walked down to the stable. For so many years Tom had been the strong one with emotions under control and able to deal with whatever came. Now, with all the disruption, it was like being a small child again. It was as if she was going through the teen years, trying to figure out who she was and how to deal with the world all over again. Even with the background of having one lifetime behind her, it was still hard. At least she didn't have to deal with high school again.
Elizabeth and Hecuba were grazing quietly in the pasture area, ignoring the figure that was approaching. A minimal breeze kicked up and wafted against Nicole's back toward the two mares; Elizabeth's head came up as she visibly sniffed the air. Moments later she was trotting toward the fence, where horse and rider spent a few minutes getting reacquainted.
The horses each cooperated with the cleanup and bedding down—other than Elizabeth grabbing her shirt as she got ready to leave. It took more attention and a little bribery to finally extricate herself from the barn.
It was a delightful evening. Michael, bless his heart, had managed a delicious stir-fry meal. It was entirely comfortable sitting there, sharing the time, and talking quietly about the last three weeks.
Artemis, on the other hand, was notable by her absence. Michael mentioned that she'd decided to spend some time prowling, seeing what useful information might be gathered, and also giving Nicole a relaxing evening.
Friday, January 26, 2001
The Cabin
6:00AM
The wheelbarrow was empty and back in the barn. The horses, including the four-legged pest that was hers, were in the pasture, and she was back at the cabin porch watching the sun begin to backlight the clouds.
Hecuba had reacted with an 'Oh! You again?' this morning when Nicole had arrived to take care of the morning chores. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had developed an interest in playing with her long-absent mistress and indulged in some nudging and gentle nipping as the redhead tried to get the horse out of the barn. She couldn't get angry; the poor beast was trying to make up for the weeks of neglect. The two indulged in a short game of tag that seemed to satisfy the filly for the moment.
~I don't want to think of what she'll be like when I'm away for months instead of weeks.~
Breakfast was another quiet meal, with the two discussing the plans for the day. Nicole mentioned she had thought about starting to keep a journal, possibly even going back and including her time as Tom. Michael nodded as she mentioned her concern about leaving them lying around where anyone could find and read them, and agreed to permit the storage of the volumes here until other arrangements could be made.
"I know you have some other things on your mind. You want to cover them now, or wait until after lunch?"
One exasperated look at him later—no hiding anything from him, darn it! -- the two agreed that she'd rather postpone the questions she had until later. She also mentioned that there was at least one item that she'd like to have Artemis around to discuss.
Once the agenda was settled, she walked down to the pasture again. It was a lovely morning to go out, saddle up, and take a long, leisurely ride through the woods. The weather, as always, was delightfully warm without being too hot or overly humid. Every so often she dismounted and led the way through terrain that was too rough for safe riding, or when she just needed to take a break and stretch her legs. Elizabeth followed mostly without complaint, though there was a time or two when she thumped her rider with a nose.
12:00 Noon
The light meal was over; Artemis had arrived just after the cleanup was complete, and the three were parked on chairs on the cabin's porch. Nicole sat, looking out over the clearing toward the pasture where the horses quietly nibbled on the emerald grass. Beyond the clearing stood the woodland that embraced the mountain where the cabin stood. And, as always, the faint, sweet smell of the honeysuckle that grew so freely permeated the air. It was tempting to just relax and revel in the soft comfort, but Michael kept her focused on the task at hand.
"Are you ready to tackle your questions?"
Nicole nodded at Michael's question and started in. "I guess I'll start with the easy one. Am I still married?"
Michael quirked an eyebrow at her. "To Beth?"
She nodded.
"Tom is dead and buried. Legally, Nicole has never been married."
"I'm not talking about legally; I'm talking about what's right. I married Beth ''til death do us part' and I just... want to make sure that I know where I stand."
"And you miss her."
She sniffled from the tears that brimmed without overflowing. "I do. An awful lot. It helped to have Kate around, but it's still hard waking up alone. I guess I'm half-hoping that there's an excuse to have her back in my life. It's just hard, Michael, when things get so quiet and there's nothing to distract from the memories and the silence."
He nodded at her. "I understand, but as far as your marriage vows are concerned, you are free in the sight of God and man. Tom is dead; you and Beth are both free to move on. Think about it; it really wouldn't be fair to either of you to have it any other way, would it?"
She started to nod, then stopped and began to shake her head. Stopping a second time she looked at him. "How the heck do I answer that?" He looked at her, and she returned a sad smile of resignation.
"Okay," he said as he recovered, "what else do you want to cover?"
"Before I get back to Virginia, what did you say to David Sterling? He indicated he was content with the conversation you had with him. The last time around, he was very upset and demanded answers. I really don't want, or need, that man mad at me."
The transition to Doctor Wing was almost visible, and Nicole had to suppress a giggle at him. He gave her a dignified snort as he began. "I cannot lie to him, or anyone else, as you know. What I told him was that you were brought in as the first of a new team I was setting up that would be targeted toward a new opportunity I thought was opening up in the not-too-distant future. I apologized to him for the lack of warning, but explained that you were unique in your ability to lead the new team, and I had to ensure you were brought in and your training begun as soon as possible."
She grinned. "That was a delightfully accurate and misleading explanation. Is he ever going to be told the whole truth? When we start training, he'll almost certainly realize something unusual is going on. He'll try to push me to my limits, and he's surely observant enough to notice just how abnormal they are."
"He can't know for a while. The whole company will realize something is up after you've been there for a while and haven't visibly aged. That gives us quite some time to prepare, though."
"I'll trust to your lead on that situation, but I'm also wondering how to deal with a lot of the other issues that will come up. For example, how do I deal with non-English speaking Amazons? How did they handle that back in the day, Artemis?"
The goddess shrugged. "Local women already knew the language we used. For travelers, by the time someone got to where the tribes lived, they knew enough of the local languages to get by. Travel was slow enough then to make it all work, since there were trade languages that made it possible to communicate while learning the local tongues. Even when the Amazons were being formed, there were languages common enough to allow travelers to get by."
"So that really doesn't help my situation. English is as close to a trade language as there is in the modern world, but even so I can't rely on everyone I meet knowing it. So what do I do?"
Michael gave her a wry smile. His hand disappeared for a moment behind the bench, and reappeared with a package wrapped in plain brown paper. He handed the package to the confused and slightly amused redhead.
"Michael! I'll have you know I'm not that kind of girl!" Her eyebrows rose, her eyes widened, and she placed a hand over her heart.
"Smart aleck! Just unwrap it, okay?"
As an amused Artemis looked on, Nicole carefully picked open the tape holding the paper. The package opened to reveal an Arabic language course from a familiar company. "Arabic? German, French, Russian, even Chinese I could see, but Arabic?" She looked at her guide with utter confusion at the meaning of the choice.
"Have you known me to be arbitrary in what I do? Trust me, child. I cannot give you any explanations on the choice right now."
She tapped the package on her open palm, before looking back at her mentors. "Okay, so I need to learn Arabic. That just highlights another problem. The courses I've taken this week have touched only briefly on a number of worldwide cultures. Given this language course, I'm assuming I'll have some Arabic-speaking sisters in the near future. There's still a lot I don't know about that, or any other non-Western culture. How do I get around my parochial, American upbringing?" She shook her head. "I need to know so much more about the world now, and I'm feeling the depth of my ignorance."
"You will have the extra training you'll need by the time you need it. One of the benefits of being in the US military is that they have culture specific training before deploying units into an area. That will help your situation greatly."
The young woman nodded as she gave him a half-smile. "That's the best deal I can get, isn't it."
"I'm afraid so. The journey's part of the lesson; you need the struggle so that you're strong enough when the later battles come, daughter. You know you won't face anything you haven't had a chance to prepare for."
"I know, but it doesn't mean I'll like the ride." She sat quietly for a moment as the information sank in with all its implications.
She grabbed the loose fall of her hair, gathered it into a loose bundle, and flipped it back over the back of the chair before she finally continued. "Artemis, do you have any suggestions for introducing our new recruits to handling their new strength?"
"Eggs."
Nicole's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "Eggs?"
Michael's eyes sparkled with amusement as he picked up on Artemis' intent. The black-haired goddess continued with a smile.
"Make sure you have a couple of dozen eggs. They can be hard-boiled if you want to sweep instead of mop. Before you call me, have them squeeze a couple to get a feel for how much they have to work at just barely crushing them.
"After they've been empowered, let them find out how much it takes to crush the egg. It will give them a rough idea of how much strength they have, and also give them practice in fine control. If you want a demonstration of raw power, have them take a whack at breaking a wooden board before and after. Both are low-tech and having the raw materials on hand won't attract attention like a long metal rod would."
Then an almost-malicious glee was clear on Nicole's face. "So all our future recruits will have egg-stra strength? They'll be shell-shocked at what they can do after they join? I'll have to hope none of them chicken out!"
Michael shot a 'you had to set her off' look at Artemis, who shrugged in resignation and winced as the puns got rapidly worse. He was silently pleased, as it was the first flicker of Nicole's old humor since that catastrophic December morning.
The two suffered in silence, until the redheaded punster wound down, settling into an occasional quiet giggle. Nicole finally restored control over her laughter and suggested that, in the parts of the world she expected to operate in at first, an empty aluminum soda can might do as well as an egg. The point was to provide feedback to the new recruit on how to control their new strength.
"Actually," the redhead continued after some further thought, "an empty tin can would work as well. It's too strong for most women to crush single-handed, but should be easy once they're empowered."
She pondered for a moment more. "I still can't think of a better way of showing a potential that I'm not insane than the rebar bending. I suppose I could play 'Waco Kid' and show off my speed, but...." She shrugged in frustration. "At least for basic training we can rely on the normal martial arts classes for most recruits. That will at least allow them to protect themselves and learn to control their new abilities. I'll want to spend time thinking about that, though, and I still need your input if you have better ideas."
Neither of her companions on the porch had any new ideas to contribute to the situation at this point, unfortunately.
Once the youngster settled down, the conversation turned to less serious matters. The topic shift quickly revealed the underlying tension, as Nicole's reluctance to open up her private thoughts to Artemis left several lines of conversation hanging awkwardly in the air.
At one point, as they touched on the topic of new recruits, Artemis diffidently suggested that she'd be willing to save Nicole the need for travel and induct the new Amazons. "That will permit the nation to grow more quickly early on while you're in the Marines."
The thought she'd devoted to that topic earlier now proved its value, as Nicole was both unsurprised and prepared with a ready reply. She turned a sincere and innocent look at the goddess as she replied.
"I truly appreciate the offer, Artemis, but I think at this point I really need to meet the recruits myself. I need to take their measure, if you will, and let them take mine. The first recruits will be the foundation for everything we do in the future, and it's crucial that that foundation be as perfect as we can make it, even if it takes longer. I must know them well, because they will be working closely with me. I also need to grow into my job, so slow growth isn't a bad thing early on." Nicole paused briefly, chewing lightly on her bottom lip as she struggled with the other option she'd considered. "The only other way I can think of would be if you would provide transportation yourself to the new recruits; I'm hesitant to do that, as I don't want to be using your abilities as a crutch where some thought, or patience, will allow me to do things myself." She allowed herself a small smile. "You're my guide, not my mini-van. If it's critical, would you be willing?"
As she returned the smile, Artemis was fully aware of the unspoken reasoning behind the refusal, but the overt reasoning was utterly correct. The argument on her part was, for the moment, put aside. "If the situation is critical enough, I would," the goddess replied.
It wasn't long after that exchange that Nicole suggested she return to her motel to pack for her trip. Michael shook his head, perturbed by the continued tension between the two women, and volunteered to provide transport. It was early evening when the redhead found herself alone again in her motel room, but she just drew the drapes against the world and tried to find something distracting on the TV.
Somehow she had no appetite for dinner; Michael wasn't the only one disturbed by the tension.
Saturday, January 27, 2001
Doubletree Suites
6:30AM PST
The trunk lid thumped as Nicole shoved it down on the suitcases. She had yet to check out, but this way she could just boogie on out toward LAX. ~Ick.~
As the damp air of the dark morning swirled around her, she was grateful for the warmth of the jacket and jeans. She wore a thinner blouse under her coat; it would have provided little shelter on this cool, nearly cold morning. A pair of flat-heeled shoes completed her ensemble; it wasn't at all dressy, but was practical for the long trip ahead. She wore minimal makeup, since the traveling would permit little time to keep it looking as it should.
As she walked around to the driver's door, she pushed aside the weariness she felt from lack of sleep. She had awakened several times last night, her mind wrestling with her conflict with Artemis. Her thoughts leapt from the original incident at the cabin, to wondering how she herself might have done something different, to questioning yet again what she might do now to help the situation. She'd have all day to ponder that topic; now there were other, more immediate, concerns.
The idea of breakfast wasn't exciting, but her body burned a lot more calories than before, and she had to have something just to provide fuel for the day. The alternative was the overpriced airport food, and given the free breakfast here it made no sense. Fortunately the breakfast buffet provided a variety of choices, both the standard fare of eggs, sausages, pancakes, and the like, as well as the fruits she'd come to appreciate. She chose with care, now. Despite the promise of immunity to aging, she was aware, however vaguely, of the stresses she'd face in the years to come. Now was the time to set her habits to strengthen this new body for what lay ahead. She chose, both content and quantity, enough food to nourish herself through the day and night of travel ahead, but no more than necessary. She had a second chance and was determined to do a better job of taking care of herself, this time.
Once again she found herself headed north on the all too familiar interstate, as the darkness turned to a shadowless, gray-shrouded morning. The mountains to the east were truncated by the low-hanging clouds, and stood blurred by distance, haze, and the greening vegetation. The trip was only an hour or so to LAX. It would take only minutes to drop off the car; check-in would take a bit longer. Security would, no doubt, proceed with its usual speed and efficiency. With three and a half hours, there was plenty of time after eating, even if the traffic decided to go screwy, or someone did a slow-motion highway chase in a white Blazer.
Los Angeles International Airport
Gate 51B
9:15AM
The computer case sat beside her in an empty seat as Nicole settled in for the bout with boredom that lay between now and the earliest boarding time she expected. Perhaps quarter past ten, if all went well and according to schedule. She was grateful for the bookstore at the airport; she was nearly half-done with the book she'd purchased Saturday, and knew it wouldn't last through the painfully long flights that lay ahead. Even before her change, she had been a fast reader; now her voracity was even greater. She thought for a moment. ~Perhaps it would be well to spend some time browsing, and watch what some of the other women my physical age are buying. More changes; more to learn—always more I don't know.~
She closed her book, stowing it in the computer case that was quickly swung to her shoulder, and strode to the nearest bookstore.
Covington, Kentucky
Cincinnati / Northern Kentucky International Airport
6:30PM EST
She hissed in irritation at the situation. The plane from LA had been forced to wait at the gate as the ground crew tried to find the proper seat cushion! Now she was forced to almost run to the other end of Concourse B. The airline representative had promised that she would make her flight, but she was determined to get there as soon as possible.
The flight itself had been reasonably pleasant. A woman, in her late thirties or early forties it seemed, was in the aisle seat beside Nicole for that leg. They'd struck up a casual conversation as they waited on the ground and found they were both headed to England. Lisa, her fellow traveler, was a graphic artist who lived in the Los Angeles area and was going to review some renderings by their British office for a European customer. She would spend a couple of days working almost non-stop with the local staff to make any adjustments before returning home. It was expensive, but the company had found the color rendering too difficult to synchronize between the remote systems.
Nicole muttered scathing comments about maintenance personnel as she crossed the food court, echoing Lisa's running commentary. A couple of minutes later found them at the desired gate. The plane had begun boarding, but the gate attendant assured her that her luggage would indeed be aboard before the aircraft left. She relaxed a bit, reassured that her old experience with the airline still held true; they were still as careful as ever to ensure passengers were properly taken care of.
She lined up with her seatmate from the last flight just behind her. Within fifteen minutes they were both settled in their seats; Nicole was in the aisle seat this time. She stowed her computer case and purse beneath the seat before her, and then stood for a moment to pull pillows and blankets from the overhead storage for herself and Lisa. It would be nearly eight hours in the air, and even this business-class seat wouldn't permit her to get as much rest as she'd like with all the time changes. The blanket would help some, as even with the air vent closed, there would still be some draft from the movement of the attendants and the main air vents overhead.
~Perhaps it would be wise to have some wine with dinner. That should help me relax enough to get a little sleep.~
At last the aircraft was pushed back, and Nicole turned her attention to the safety lecture as the big jet started on its long journey.
Sunday, January 28, 2001
Gatwick Airport
London
7:55AM
Stewards had come through the cabin, gently awakening the dozing passengers and handing out warm towels about two hours before arrival. While it wasn't a shower, the warm, damp cloth still helped clear some of the grit from her eyes. The towels were followed by a simple meal. Nicole had managed, much to her surprise, to get about six hours of sleep. The advantages of youth were much appreciated, as she felt far more awake now than Tom had on occasion after a much shorter trip. On the other hand, she found it necessary for the restroom visit to include time to repair her makeup from the predations of the night and the wet towel.
She'd never flown into Gatwick, and walked a bit more slowly to take in the layout. The signage was adequate to direct her movements at this point. It took the better part of half an hour to locate and reclaim her luggage, then almost as long to clear passport control. Fortunately, there weren't quite so many people traveling to Great Britain on an early Sunday morning, so the lines weren't quite as bad as they might have been otherwise.
She'd followed Lisa, who'd been through this facility before, to the rental car desk, or car hire as they called it locally. The two finally parted ways as they each headed for their vehicles and Nicole was making her cautious way to Somerley following the printout from the rental desk.
The trip wasn't as bad as she'd feared; other than driving on the 'wrong' side of the road, the liberal use of the roundabouts made her feel as if she was driving in the northeastern US again.
~I still remember all those trips around Carrier Circle.~ She thought, as memories of her college days were brought back by the drive.
Somerley
12:00 Noon GMT
The trip from the airport had taken nearly two hours with traffic, missed turns, and her determination to stay a little below the speed limit. The last was intended to give her more time to react to unfamiliar situations. Finally, however, she had pulled into the parking lot, or car park as the signage said, of the massive facility. She turned off the engine, grateful for the chance to be done with things that rolled or flew for a while.
Signs directed her to the entrance, where the staff checked her in and directed her to her room for the week. The long corridors echoed with the footfalls of her guide as she was led past the artwork and antiques that graced the elegant architecture of the ancient mansion. They stopped by a door, which was swiftly unlocked and opened; the guide led her in and pointed out the features and facilities of her temporary residence.
The room she'd been assigned was sumptuous. Her utilitarian luggage seemed utterly out of place—as if a poor, bedraggled cousin had come to visit. Her selection of clothing took only a few minutes to unpack and hang. Toiletries consumed only a couple of additional minutes.
The drapes and linens were rich, nearly glowing in their golden tones. The carpet, a rich red color, was deep and soft as a mattress.
~I could easily be spoiled by all this, at least for a while.~ She smiled to herself, knowing her taste for the ornate facility would soon wear out. However much the outside had changed, there were still some fundamentals that remained. She was still a woman with simple tastes.
~I'll still enjoy the brief luxury, though.~
She completed her unpacking, and made her way to the dining room. The information packet provided to her included a guide to the facility; after a meal, a bath, and a change of clothing, she planned on making an unguided tour to take in the artwork, both paintings and furniture, which filled the building. It would be a chance to walk around, stretch her legs, and enjoy the richness of the history of this place.
She would, of course, spend some time reviewing the course outline for the week. She called the description to mind as she walked along the corridor.
"This week looks at all aspects of the physical image and the importance of the first impression. In small groups, students study and practise their skills at developing a good skin care routine and make-up techniques while practical colour analysis shows every student the colours to suit them best. Posture and body language sessions use music and emphasis is placed on the unspoken signals of body language. Voice presentation allows the student to make a strong impact using the spoken work, exploring how to sound commanding, confident and professional.
Lectures give vital information on basic rules, trends and ideas with all of the classes drawing on participation from the students. The desired result of this combined learning approach is improved presentation and greater confidence."
~All of it sounds useful, and the body language portion most of all. I need to be able to act like a proper lady, not a tom-boy.~
(continued)
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