GI Jane: Better, Faster, Stronger part 1
The call woke Denis up at an inordinately early hour; he reached for his iPhone hoping to reach it before Ben’s sleep was also ruined. He pressed the green icon, coughed once and said, “This is Denis Boyd.”
‘Doctor Boyd, we have a subject. Your option has just been activated. A car will be by to pick you up in an hour.” The woman on the other end informed him. The words filled him with a bizarre mix of excitement and dread. He cast his eyes back to the bed, Ben was still sleeping. He would have to leave a note. But what could it say? ‘Sorry, love. I am not sure when I’ll be home; I have to go make America’s Greatest Hero.’ Even saying it was breaking like fifteen bazillion military laws and codes and would land him in real ‘fuck you in the ass’ jail.
He settled for
Something really big came up, I had to go.
Love you, Denis
p.s. feed Lily
The car was waiting at the door of the building when Denis hopped out of the elevator, a hastily thrown together bag of clothes, toiletries and entertainment dragging behind him. He stopped short when he saw the soldier step from the vehicle as he approached the revolving glass door. The young man waited for him to exit. Despite signing on for this project, Denis was still leery of the military. It paid to be he estimated when they, down to the lowliest auto mechanic, were trained to kill. He took a deep breath and pushed his way out of the door the case bouncing behind him.
“Dr. Boyd.” The man said, it was not a question, but he replied to it anyway.“Yes, I am.” running the fingers of his free hand through his thick hair.
“Let me get that for you sir.” and he reached for the bag.
“Oh, sure.”
The young man opened the rear door for him, and shut it firmly. Denis gave it a paranoid little wiggle before he settled in. Calm down Denis he told himself, they hired you. Get over this. When the soldier got in, Denis exhaled the breath he had been holding.
“Where are we going?” he asked. The blue eyes in the mirror told him that it was a question more comfortable unanswered.
“Where are we going?” he asked. The blue eyes in the mirror told him that it was a question more comfortable unanswered.
“You will find out when we get there sir.” The blue eyed reflection told him.
“Ok, Fine. Do you think we could stop by a Dunkin Donuts or something? I could use a cup of coffee.” Denis said relaxing back into the leather of the seat.
“Ok, Fine. Do you think we could stop by a Dunkin Donuts or something? I could use a cup of coffee.” Denis said relaxing back into the leather of the seat.
“Sure sir.” The soldier replied.
Denis decided to relieve the tension by imagining the soldier naked. It was juvenile, but it was also fun, not to mention proved a great psychological equalizer for the normally timid geneticist. Closing his eyes he dreamt up all sorts of possibilities that would definitely make Ben jealous.
* * * * *
“Thanks for coming so quickly Doctor.” The man told him as he opened the door.
“Not a problem, I am always up at 1:38 in the morning on a Tuesday.” Denis said stepping out of the car. The soldier was already headed to the trunk to fish out his bag, so he took a moment to gather in the wonders of the typical basement parking garage: low ceilings, painted signs labeled exit and compact cars only, rows of bland American automobiles.
“I am Andrew Cress.” The shorter man offered his hand which Denis shook. “I’ll be acting as coordinator on this mission. Let me bring you inside and then I’ll fill you in.” Cress took him to the elevator, sliding a card to activate the controls. Stepping inside, Denis noticed that his bag was not joining him. Seeing his concern the other man chuckled.
“Sorry, protocol. Your things will be sifted for,” he held his hands up and did the quotation mark gesture, “contraband items, after which they will be placed in your office. Why did you pack so much anyway?”
Denis took his meaning immediately, “I thought they might ship me out to some godforsaken place in the hinterlands of the country. I wanted to be prepared.”
The doors opened back up on a rather standard reception room, deliberately bland; no logo or symbol identifying what this place was.
Stepping out ahead of him Cress said chuckling, “I went in my jogging shorts.”
“So what are you?” Denis asked.
It was Cress’s turn to raise eyebrows, “I am a coordinator for the project; I make sure things happen.”
“Are you my…” he searched for the word, “my boss?”
Cress chuckled, “No, I work with you. My job is to make sure the things that need to happen, do. You will meet our ‘boss’ when we get back. He really doesn’t like being roused in the middle of the night. I imagine he is just getting his morning brief.”
“OK, just wanted to feel things out.” Denis added.
“It’s alright Dr. Boyd, you just wanted to know who had your balls in a vice.” Cress smiled.
They shared a brief laugh as Cress guided him through the cubicles and corridors in the dead as night office. Cress stopped before an office labeled: A. Crutz, and inserted his card into the lock. A much sturdier thunk! than should have been made from a door lock greeted the action. Pulling the door open, Cress revealed another elevator.
“This is the real elevator isn’t it?” Denis asked.
“Yep, gotta keep things super secret and locked up tight. Trust me hundreds of people and nearly as many governments would love to get their hands on what we are about to do.” Cress said suddenly serious. “Once we are in the facility I’ll bring you up to speed.”
The elevator ride up was uneventful, well, other than the iris scan he had to submit to. People talked about retina scans, but iris was better and easier since the subject didn’t have to stand still. Denis was impatient when the door opened up. Unlike the deserted “office” downstairs, the lobby, foyer or what have you was filled with people running this way and that. Some tapping out commands on tablets with a stylus, others in pairs or groups moving carts down the hall, and everywhere armed soldiers standing at the ready.
“Home Sweet Home.” Cress intoned, putting his hand behind Denis’s elbow pulling him along. “Let me show you around.” And he did, walking him through labs, and in and out of chemical mixing rooms, showing him the most impressive DNA sequencing hardware he had ever seen, and the final bit an infusion chamber built to his specifications. Within it a person could have their entire genetic code reworked from the ground up. With it, he could play at being God. Denis would just settle for curing cancer.
“You like it?” Cress asked. “We, of course, extrapolated from your original designs. Don’t ask who did the work. It can do the job in a third the time and with more control.”
Denis’s brain literally flew with the implications, “We are seriously going through with it?” he said walking up to the tube and running his hands across it in awe.
“Dr. Boyd, like the lady said when she called you, we have a subject. Project: GI Jane has a green light.”
* * * * *
Denis and Cress sat in his office overlooking the infusion chamber; Denis was clicking through a computer file while Cress gave him the highlights.
“She’s a genetic freak--graduated as a cadet leader from the Citadel, attended West Point and graduated with honors, completed Special Forces training at the top of her class. Normally, women have a hard time doing some of the physical tasks they ‘challenge’ recruits with. Our candidate had no problems surpassing those challenges, she is a latent, and literally anything the boys could do she could do better. Her genetic assay points to prime receptivity for the treatment.”
Denis clicked again.
“She spoke French, German, and Russian at home; her father was a college professor, a linguist. She plays the flute, piano, and by all accounts the harmonica, incredibly well. In addition to liking NASCAR and Kenny Chesney, she is rated on all NATO firearms and carries advanced and master certifications in close quarters combat. She’s a shit-kicker.
Another click.
“She has no close contacts outside the military. Her drive to excel has left her relatively isolated. Her father passed away last year after a fight with pancreatic cancer. She responded by throwing herself into her work, requesting the harshest assignments, the nastiest pulls. Psychological evaluation given 2 months ago however shows a stable healing process. She’s resilient.
Another click.
Denis looked at the woman’s face on the screen. Hello GI Jane, he thought. He turned around to face Cress, “Where is she, I want to meet her?”
“Walter Reed,” Cress said, “She had a nasty run in with an IED on her way out of Baghdad.”
Denis looked down at the computer image of the woman, “She’s hurt?”
“Badly,” Cress agreed, “that is why she is a good subject. Dr. Boyd, she needs this. She will want this. Your work can not only cure her wounds but make her better, stronger, faster. Doctor, you can make her a legend.”
* * * * *
The drive to Walter Reed was short, but the wait had been impossible. Denis had wanted to leave the instant he knew who she was and where she was; Cress told him that inducting his subject in the dark of night was probably not the most auspicious beginning. When the car slowed to a crawl at the entrance he leapt out. Behind him Cress shook his head in amusement. Denis waited impatiently.
Inside Denis again waited impatiently as Cress showed his ID to the beefy man at reception, making sure that GI Jane-to-be hadn’t been moved or something in the intervening hours. Waving Denis over, the man offered him a blue plastic clip on ID, “Sorry about that, the hospital is lousy with computer records. We knew she was here, just not where. Staff Sargeant Charles there,” he said stabbing a thumb back to the front desk “says she is on the fourth floor section D, room 465. Hope you ate your Wheaties Dr. Boyd this is going to be a jog."
The trip through the hospital filled Denis with sorrow and outright anger. Dozens of fine men and women filled the halls, every one of them bearing the wounds of war. Destroyed limbs, horrible burns, and the bleak gasping of respirators all threatened to give him lasting nightmares. The everyday citizen shielded himself from the ultimate human cost of conflict. Denis clung to the thought that his work, could, no would make a difference; the broken could be made whole.
At last they made it to room 465, Denis opened the door. Inside the smell of disinfectant and plastic hung thick in the air, and the humming and occasional beeping of medical machinery assured that the people inside were still alive. It was not a private room, or even a semi-private, six large beds filled the space, on each was a patient. “Number four.” Cress supplied. Nodding, Denis made his way in, seeking the future. He found it at bed four.
She was still, quiet, her head was wrapped and her left eye covered in gauze. He could see a tell tale stain as betadine and blood seeped out. Her face was bruised and swollen. One arm was heavily wrapped and braced. He reached down and took up her chart; he flipped through to see the extent of her injuries. “Likely paralyzed?” he turned to ask Cress.
“Shrapnel from the explosion pierced the sacral spinal cord, the damage isn’t anything we shouldn’t be able to handle, hypothetically.” The man responded whispering in his ear.
“Hmmm.” Denis thought as he looked down.
“Are you guys going to talk to me or just murmur and leave all mysterious?” her voice was stronger than he expected and it startled him. She had turned up to face them and checked them over with her bruised and swollen remaining eye. “Well?” she added impatiently.
Cress dramatically and uselessly pulled the curtain around them.
“Captain Phoebe Boles?” Denis asked unnecessarily. She nodded. “I am here to offer you an assignment.”
She arched an eyebrow, “Did you notice where I am? Not exactly up for an ‘assignment’ at the moment. Partial paralysis remember?” her voice was pained, looking at her Denis could see that she didn’t know. He felt like shit.
“We are aware of your condition, Captain Boles.” Cress replied. Denis sighed with relief; he was worried he would have to carry the whole conversation. “That is indeed why we are here. You can still serve your country Captain. She wants you too.”
“Let me guess, you guys have some magic legs you need a guinea pig to try out?” Pheobe replied a bit too sarcastically.
“Something like that.” Cress agreed. “I am going to have the nurse move you into a private room so we can talk.”
“Good, wake me when I get there.” She said and closed her eye.
Denis looked at Cress as they walked away, “She seems alert and…”
“So full of dope she isn’t feeling a thing Dr. Boyd.” Cress interrupted.
Cress went ahead to clear the move, meanwhile Denis thought through the various treatment regimes he would need to repair the damaged tissue. He was sure the infusion techniques he created would do the job, he smiled, the project had a subject and his life’s work had a green light.
Cress summoned him with a flick of his fingers, and he jogged over. “This way.” Denis followed after him. “Only empty room on the floor. Just vacated by a retired 2 star getting a bypass, we should be OK.”
* * * * *
To Denis it was another interminable wait until Captain Boles was wheeled into the room. Cress shooed the nurse and orderlies out as soon as her machinery and monitors could be reset. The captain was still dozing, insulated from the pain in her pharmacological shroud.
“Captain Boles.” Denis said placing his hand on hers.
The woman roused slower this time. “Oh, it’s you.” Her voice was tired.
“Captain Boles, what do you know about Soldier Boy?” Cress asked her.
She snorted, “Everyone knows about Soldier Boy, greatest American hero--saved the world a bunch of times, faded away. Supposedly.” She added at the last.
“That is all correct.” Cress stated.
“America is in need of a new hero, Captain Boles.” He paused to let it sink in.
“Me? You think I am some sort of hero?”
“Not yet, but when Dr. Boyd and his staff get through with you, you will be.” He concluded with a smile.
“No shit?” she asked.
“No shit.” Cress confirmed.
Looking down at herself, feeling the little aches that boded poorly for when the painkillers wore off. She tried to bend her knee, or even wiggle her toes. Nothing. “Sign me up; I always wanted to know how I would look in spandex.”
Cress smiled, “We use Ballistex.”
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Interesting...
I'll follow along and see where this goes...
Obsolete, I say OBSOLETE, boy....
Oh, Soldier Boy's gonna love this. A new military superhero--younger, stronger, faster, and female to boot!
I look forward to seeing how this plays out....
So easy to figure out...
She'll hit on Stone, she'll have an unrequited love affair with Nemesis and end up sleeping with Jag.
Alternately, replace any or all of the above with Celeste, Heatwave and Ophilia
How about none of the above
How about none of the above for Heatwave.
--
Imagination is the seed of intelligence. Nourish it and watch it grow.
Sorry, but...
Heatwave has some say in whether or not GI Jane sleeps with her, but hitting on her? Having an unrequited love for her? Nothing she can do about those....
That's what I get for
That's what I get for replying so late after a busy day. I thought he was talking about Celeste, Heatwave, and Ophillia hitting on Stone, having an unrequited love for Nemesis, and sleeping with Jag.
--
Imagination is the seed of intelligence. Nourish it and watch it grow.
Wait I get it now
All female characters will (in the fullness of time) - Hit on stone, have an unrequited love affair with Nemesis and sleep with Jag.
All male characters will - Hit on Heatwave, have an unrequited love affair with Phi and sleep with Celeste.
(Some characters might follow both paths.)
I think those two statements are mutually contradictory but it is a soap opera no?
Oh yeah, this is going to
Oh yeah, this is going to end well. Can you say major super-patriot superhero battle in the Cathedral, followed by hot monkey sex in the mess hall?
Great piece. I just can't
Great piece.
I just can't wait for Soldier Boy to find out they replaced him with a dame.
I can't wait for Soldier Boy
I can't wait for Soldier Boy to find out his replacement is an officer.
can't wait
I can't wait for the Phi sleeping with Nemesis...when and how does that happen?
Kidding!
On a more serious note. Hawk, thanks for your enthusiasm for the game. I really appreciate your support and comments as a lurker, and hope that you've enjoyed messing around in our play ground a bit. I know that I've made it hard at times, but I'm excited about the introduction of GI Jane and the effect it will have on the legendary Soldier Boy.
If other campaigns start in this gaming world, it will just be another rich element to play with.
I really enjoy working with
I really enjoy working with everyone here. I am learning a lot as a writer, such as I am a horrible JP contributor. I think more time will get me to mellow out a bit. You and RLS have been very patient when I stumble during the work. I think that the mythology of TQ is awesome, the little i get to know of it, and being involved (tangentally) is a great experience.
that made absolutely no sense did it?
I forgot to say...I think it
I forgot to say...I think it was a brilliant decision to not tell the story from Phoebe Boles point of view.
Always Learning
We're always learning from our peers on what works and what doesn't work. We each have our own styles and learn which styles we enjoy reading, and sometimes adapt to include certain aspects into our own style. Ya know.
That isn't just here, there are a lot of gaming communities that are just bursting with talent. The more you play and write the more you will grow. The creativity comes naturally for you, and that's huge, that's something you can't force. So, knowing that you have the creativity within you, is a good thing.
The technical aspects of writing, finding that collaborative chemistry, and figuring out your style will come with time. Many of us still struggle with that. Grammar and spelling are not my friends. :) ...and I struggle mightily with writing collaboratively if I don't have a partner that I can really trust or a character or NPC that hasn't found their voice. We all have our little writing issues.
Just have fun! That's the bottom line. :)
Excellent story! All the
Excellent story! All the elements I love to hate about government conspiracy and secret military projects! =D
Well written and I love the chosen perspective. Great job.
Very nice, indeed.
Very nice, indeed.
Why isn't the word 'phonetic' spelled the way it sounds?