"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

 

Chapter 2 - "Mystery Guest"

"You met a boy? Ooh, do tell," Carol urged their shapely commander.

Marilyn shrugged, her expression showing her recognition that her team not only deserved, but would insist on a real explanation.

"I have a brother, a younger brother," she began. "He graduated from West Point during our furlough, and a few weeks before we went on leave I realized the timing would overlap."

Marilyn leaned back in her chair, her eyes losing focus, or perhaps gaining focus on something only she could see. Her tone seemed almost nonchalant, at least at first.

 

I picked up the secure phone and dialed a complex number with too many digits for a conventional call. After a long pause during which I had to negotiate with computers by pronouncing seemingly-random strings of letters and numbers that the silly machines must have conjured up in the first place, I finally heard the voice I wanted on the far end.

 

	"I don’t suppose I could go as Major General Richard Merlin," Marilyn mused.

"Sam, Bobby is graduating next month."

"I know," Sam Gates replied, surprised neither by the abruptness of the statement nor the cryptic reference to a name not part of the team.

"I . . . well, I was going to say I need to be there, but I suppose it’s not quite that . . . inescapable. But I really want to be there. I guess that means I need to ask a favor."

"You know I’ll do what I can," Gates replied. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, in my dreams I get to show up as Major General Richard Merlin and congratulate him, but . . ."

"But even aside from the security issues, you know you can’t really return to your old identity, certainly not on a temporary basis. With your current, um, mannerisms, you wouldn’t be a particularly good role model for ‘a modern Major General’."

"That is the problem, all right."

"You wouldn’t have called me without a plan," Gates declared.

"Right," I confirmed. "I’ll have to go as Marilyn, of course, but I’d like you to get me an invitation to the graduation ceremony."

Gates voice held a note that would be humor in a more-expressive person, contradicting what might have seemed like a reproof. "Why, Marilyn, since when have you paid any attention to obstacles? I can think of half a dozen ways in which you could have managed this."

"Yes, but getting there is only part of it. I need to have some official orders to attend - faked, but official."

"Ah, and so you called me."

"Well, you are one path around this obstacle," I pointed out with a laugh.

"I assume you want to attend as a serving officer then, and not just as a, hmm, an unescorted woman?"

"Exactly. I need to wear a uniform so that I can be one of ‘us’, not one of ‘them’."

"Quite," Gates said, that wry note of humor back in his voice. "You understand your ‘orders’ won’t identify you as a Major General. There aren’t enough female general officers to support the idea that one nobody knows just happened to attend the West Point graduation."

I laughed again and said, "I sort of figured that. I’ll go as a Major, since that’s my permanent rank."

"Actually," Gates said, the note of humor in his voice now very obvious, "I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You really need to pay more attention to your official mail."

"What are you talking about?"

"You’re no longer a Major, Lieutenant Colonel Merlin."

"I’m, uh, oh! Oh, my. That IS news."

Gates chuckled at my surprise, but cautioned, "It’s not official, yet. You’ve been selected but it will be a few months before you are formally promoted. That will be useful, actually. I can have you jump the gun a little, for your uniform, and it will confuse anyone who looks into it too closely."

Then his voice got more somber, as he said, "You realize you won’t be able to let Bobby know who you really are. You won’t even be able to claim ring-knocker status, since there will be officers there from every West Point year group and any female graduate as pretty as you would certainly be remembered."

"I understand. But I still want to be there."

"Very well. I’ll work on it. Good-bye."

"Bye," I echoed, sitting back in her swivel chair. A promotion, and way ahead of normal year group, was pretty dramatic news. Still, my mind was reeling more with the idea of being there for my kid brother’s graduation.

A month later, I found myself in the VIP area at the West Point graduation. As I took my reserved seat, carefully straightening my uniform jacket and pulling down the hem of my barely-regulation skirt, I was thinking about the rewards and penalties of my current identity. I had accepted the unique character of my life, but in all honesty there were few times when I actually enjoyed it. In most cases, presenting the appearance of a woman was simply necessary to the security of our nation.

Sometimes though, it was truly rewarding to be able to act as a woman. Specifically, to be unashamed of the tears that rolled down my face as my baby brother, now grown tall and strong, graduated with honor from my own alma mater. It would have been hard to prove we were siblings even before Richard Merlin had become Marilyn Richards, Lieutenant Colonel Marilyn Richards, no less. Where as Richard, or Rick, I had always been slight of build - what little build there was - Bobby had definitely taken after our father and grown to a commanding height.

"Dear Lord, they could use him for a recruiting poster," I mused to myself.

"Pardon me?" said the man, a brigadier general, sitting next to me.

"Oh, excuse me, General. I must have spoken out loud inadvertently."

"Quite all right, um, Colonel," he said, grinning. "I think I may have caught what you said, though. May I ask just which one of our fine young officers caught your eye?"

"Oh, uh, well, they are all fine additions to the ‘Long Gray Line’," I said, trying to dodge the question.

"Indeed," he said, eyes twinkling. "It would no doubt do their egos a great deal of harm - through inflating them even further, of course - to have such a beautiful woman tell them so."

"Thank you, General. I’m sure their sergeants will be quick to knock that out of them."

"Indeed," he agreed, then in accordance with his combat training he pursued an advantage that had presented itself. "I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Dan Braddock, TRADOC, DCS Doctrine."

"I’m, um, Marilyn Richards, currently on special assignment."

"Oh? Doing what?"

"I’m sorry, General, but I’m not supposed to say," I replied, glancing around as though my problem were more with discussing it in that location than with the question itself. Or at least that’s what I tried to imply.

The brigadier general’s brows furrowed sharply, a chance meeting with a pretty woman now transformed into an issue of turf. "Look, Colonel, I’m in charge of training doctrine for anyone who wears the uniform. You can tell me. In fact, since Secretary Symondson has directed us to get feedback from operational units at every opportunity, I can even make that an order."

"With respect, General, that would not be a good idea. If you do, this will escalate into something neither of us will enjoy. Can’t we just focus on the graduation ceremonies?"

"Hmmph. You understand that I can pursue this through official channels," he threatened.

"Yes, sir, I do. Just as you understand that in a case of conflict of orders, I am bound by those from my own chain of command until they are countermanded."

"Indeed," he said abruptly. "We’ll just see about that. Who is your commanding officer?"

"I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not at liberty to say."

"What?!"

His surprised comment was loud enough to cause heads to turn throughout the VIP area. The furrow between Braddock’s brows was now a sharply-defined chasm, but recognition that he was drawing undesirable attention to himself from his own superiors forced the once-friendly general officer into silence, a black look promising that this young Lieutenant Colonel, no matter how pretty, was not to be allowed to avoid him in so cavalier a fashion.

*Oh, hell,* I thought. *So much for a quiet, anonymous visit to the Point.*

I turned pointedly back to the graduation speaker, making it clear that I would volunteer no further information. General Braddock’s glare was in no way diminished by my obvious move to distance myself from him.

*And so much for being able to relax and enjoy Bobby’s special moment,* I sighed to myself.

The ceremony proceeded to a close. When the hats went into the air, tears once again came to my eyes as I remembered that same moment from my own graduation. *Never did find that hat,* I remembered wryly.

Then I quickly remembered my new problem and took advantage of the predictable pandemonium to escape into the crowd. General Braddock looked as though he was going to try to pursue me, but even a general officer has less sway with a thousand young men than a pretty woman and the path that formed for me closed abruptly.

With that demonstration that I was risking security with my very presence, I knew I should have left immediately. But fate intervened in the form of a distraught older woman whom I literally stumbled over in the crowd. My mother.

"Can I help you?" I asked, unable to leave her in distress.

"Oh, um, thank you," she replied, her eyes dropping from a frantic scan of the crowd to look at the young woman in front of her. For a moment, her eyes widened in an expression of . . . confusion, followed quickly by a small, subconscious shake of her head as though rejecting an idea too silly for further contemplation.

"I’m looking for my son," she explained. Like that was news or something.

"One of the cadets?" I prompted.

"Yes, he’s, um, some sort of officer," Mrs. Merlin said.

"They’re pretty much all officers, now," I said, trying to show both appreciation for her distress and confidence that we could overcome it.

"Oh, I guess that’s true, isn’t it?" Mrs. Merlin said sheepishly.

"Was he perhaps a cadet brigade officer, perhaps a company commander or something?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, that’s it. Only, um, is there a battalion commander person? When my other son graduated, he was the company commander. Bobby was quite proud that he had done better."

"Indeed, and well he should be," I said, smiling outwardly even as I winced inwardly. *Probably a good thing I’m not officially here,* I mused. *I’d never hear the end of Bobby ranking higher in the corps of cadets than I did. Bet his class standing wasn’t as good, though."

I took my mother’s arm, relishing the personal contact in a way that brought fresh tears to my eyes that I now had to hide. Urging her gently through the crowd, I scanned for the tall form of my brother. From the reviewing stand I hadn’t been able to discern Bobby’s cadet rank, or perhaps I had just been focused on other things.

Two women, one gorgeous (if I do say so myself), one with the unmistakable look of a proud but worried mother, worked a double magic on the gentleman officers and we moved unimpeded through the throng until we finally spotted Bobby. He was searching for us, or at least for his mother, and looking for his classmates for one last good-bye at the same time. As a result he wasn’t doing a very good job of either pursuit, ending up looking the other way as we approached.

Mustering up the most commanding voice I could, I barked, "Is that how you greet your mother, Mister? By showing her your backside?"

Bobby whirled and hit a hard brace by reflex too deeply set for conscious thought, saluting almost before he absorbed my rank. Despite looking over my shoulder rather than directly at me, he realized he didn’t know any pretty female colonels and confusion showed on his face alongside the relief of finding at least one of his objectives.

"Oh, Bobby, I’m so glad to have found you," Mrs. Merlin said.

"Ah, yes, um, Mother. Me, too." His eyes asked a lot of questions but he held his position.

"At ease," I commanded, returning his salute even as I tried to ease the tension with one of my very best smiles. "Apparently your mother needed a little help, ah, recognizing you. In your uniform and all. It was my privilege to provide some assistance."

"Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am," the youngest Merlin said, hitting a parade rest posture nearly as rigid is his attention had been.

"Lighten up, soldier," I commanded again. "And you might be allowed to provide a cup of punch to two desperately thirsty ladies."

"Yes, ma’am," he said, snapping off another salute that I barely had time to acknowledge before he was off for our refreshments.

"Oh, there he goes again," sighed Mother.

"He’ll be right back," I assured her, then forced a light, amused tone into my voice in place of the deeper emotions I felt. "He looks to be a fine young officer."

"Yes, he does, doesn’t he?" replied the woman I was going to have to think of as Mrs. Merlin; pride and a bit of wonder in her tone triggering what I knew would show as a new glisten in my eyes.

I had to follow up on an earlier opening. "Did I hear you say that you had another son who graduated from West Point?"

"Yes," she nodded, and I was shamelessly pleased to hear a matching note of pride in my mother’s voice. "He has done very well, I think. I really don’t know what he’s doing right now, but I’m sure whatever it is is being done well."

"I’m sure, um, he’d be gratified to hear that," I said softly.

"I do so wish he could have been here. He and Bobby were always so close. It seems that he is ‘missing in action’, or might as well be. Other than an occasional letter, I haven’t heard from him in a very long time."

"Ah, well, sometimes things just don’t work out like we expect," I murmured, trying not to let my emotions loose. "I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about or the Army would have notified you."

Any further comment that her mother might have made was interrupted by the return of the newly-made officer and gentleman.

"Here you are, ma’am," the young Lieutenant Merlin said, returning with two cups of punch. He was torn for a moment between offering the first one to his mother or to the officer who had ordered him to get it, deciding at the last second to speak to the officer while offering a cup to his mother. It was a good compromise, and one which triggered a smile of appreciation on my artificially full lips.

"So, Mister, do you suppose you could find the manners to introduce us?" I teased.

"Oh, yes ma’am. No excuse, ma’am," he blurted out. "This lady is my mother, Mrs. Janice Merlin. I am Cadet Major Robert Merlin . . . "

His voice trailed off as he realized he didn’t know anything about the pretty woman before him but the last name on her badge and her rank. Actually the decorations on my trim uniform told some surprisingly impressive things as well, though he didn’t recognize the majority of the ribbons.

In any event, I filled in for him by smiling at his mother and saying, "And I’m Marilyn Richards."

Mrs. Merlin smiled and nodded, words lost in a cover of sudden laughter from another nearby grouping. I took a sip of my punch and tried to decide what to do next. Should I just make my excuses and leave? Certainly that would be the right thing to do from a security perspective. Yet, this was my own mother and God only knew how long it would be before they could speak again - certainly not while I was presenting the appearance of a woman.

My mother took that decision away from me with an observation that made an immediate departure both more necessary and less possible.

"You look so . . . familiar to me, somehow," she said, studying my face much too closely for comfort. "I have this absolutely compelling feeling that we have met before."

"Oh, um, well I would think I’d remember if we had," I said, not quite lying.

"Bobby," Mrs. Merlin asked, "does Miss Richards look familiar to you?"

"Ah, well, now that you mention it . . . ," he said, stalling. He was not going to give up a possible opening with a pretty girl - even an ‘older woman’ - without taking full advantage of it.

"I knew it," Mrs. Merlin said. "We simply must talk and find out where we have met before."

As much as I might have loved the chance to spend some time with my unwillingly-estranged family, that particular topic was inescapably off limits and I finally admitted to myself that I was going to have to get away from them. Once again though, the choice was taken from me as Mother made an invitation I couldn’t refuse without drawing even more attention and curiosity to myself.

"Marilyn, if you’re not already committed for this evening, we’re going to a dinner party and would love to have you as our guest."

"I couldn’t intrude," I replied.

"We had hoped that my other son could attend, though all he had said was that he would try. In any event, Bobby’s friend is expecting three of us and you’d be more than welcome. Right, Bobby?"

"Of course," he said quickly, though the frown on his face said that fraternizing with an officer so much higher than his own rank made him uncomfortable. Or perhaps I’m flattering myself that the problem was my rank and not my age.

"Ah, what kind of party is this?" I asked, stalling.

Bobby answered, "One of my classmates, Cadet Bronson, is getting married tomorrow in the post chapel. This is his rehearsal dinner."

"Then I *really* couldn’t intrude," I said firmly.

"Nonsense," Mother said even more firmly. "I’ve known Angela Bronson since before you were born. I’m sure she’d love to have you." She paused for a second, then her tone changed to entreaty, "And I would really like to get to know you a little better. I truly believe we’ve met before."

That was even more reason to decline, but . . . but my own mother. Could you have turned her down? I suppose my decision must have shown on my face.

"Then you’ll come?" Bobby asked, pressing for a commitment in true military style.

"Very well," I said, then thought to myself, *I’ll just have to keep the discussion on other topics.*

Then I smiled in a way that Bobby found most . . . intriguing when another thought came to me. *In the only decent outfit, other than this uniform, that I have with me I don’t expect there’s much chance anyone will associate me with my alternate identity as a male officer.*

 

(continued in next part)

 

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SMITE 2 - Pheromone Pharmacopia © 2001 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.