I'd twisted the nose of Red China's mighty Dragon. The question now was I going to get away with it?

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Chapter Two

I'd twisted the nose of Red China's mighty Dragon. The question now was I going to get away with it? If I'd known of the Major's eyes upon me as I left I would've been a lot more apprehensive, but there was really nothing I could do. I'd put all of my marbles into one bag, win or lose. Imitating Grandmother Hui, I was apparently a better actor then I'd ever credited myself. What can I say? It worked and I did have plenty of motivation.

As the days and then weeks passed, I begged for food or forged as best I could. I put the special policeman from my mind. Most days I didn't go hungry, with people willing to share a little with an old woman. I'd even been gifted with a cane at one point which helped me thump along on my long journey.

I did have currency, but I used it very thrifty. Sure I might be calling some attention to myself, but at the same time I was defying expectations. An American stoop to begging?

It didn't take long for one day to pretty much seem like another. What did change was I began to heal not only from my rotten landing, but from losing my family, friends and home. It was still a gaping wound, but it was starting to scab over. The simple, hard life of having to walk hundreds of miles while pretending to be a senior citizen of the opposite gender in a culture largely alien to mine, gave me lots of time to think.

My anger slowly withdrew like the tide. Really I had no ill feelings about the Chinese. Hell, I was a quarter Chinese although I knew that disappointed my Grandparents. On the other hand that never stopped them from loving me and my sister Kelly.

The very fact I could think about them at all without trembling in anger or breaking down in tears spoke volumes. The saying that Time heals all had it right after all. The season passed and I was miles closer to the sea and freedom.

The way home was a complex mess requiring me to go every which way before I got to Hong Kong, but finally after so long, there it was in the distance. My time was running out. Although I'd taken as good care of my mask and gloves that I could, I could tell they were on their last legs. I'd taken to covering my masked face as much as I could, but that tactic wouldn't work for much longer.

Begging had netted me a few coins, enough for the ferry to the island. Soon I told myself. This would all be over. Modern medicine could replace my tongue and teeth, and I could dare let myself be me again.

Were the lengths I'd gone to worth it? That answer would have to be yes. The pity and dismissal when they saw my tongue and toothless mouth let me slide though more checkpoints and close calls than I could count. At the worst, I was let go with only a cursory inspection of my fake ID card.

Once on board the ferry, the smell of the sea breeze was refreshing even if I couldn't feel it upon my face. The end was near was all I could think of.

I was left alone, a ragged old woman, which suited me just fine.

Then my blood froze. There on the dock, waiting for the ferry, was the same Major who'd stopped me that very first time. What were the odds that this was an coincidence? Hunching my shoulders, I had no choice, but to play the hand I had. If a close search took place I was doomed. My mask concealed only my face. My body and gender depended on my clothing and no one looking closer.

There was the hustle of everyone preparing to off load, but I took my time. There was a plan for me to dodge Immigration, but the Major was going to complicate things.

I never had the chance. As soon as I neared the ramp, a pair of Special Police appeared on either side of me. The Major walked up and touched my masked face. The not nice smile said it all.

As they dragged me away, I got one last look at Hong Kong and just how close I'd come. Then it was lost as I forced into the green military SUV.

I won't say much about what happened next. They threw a hood over my face and cuffed me as well. I know at one point I was on a plane and changed vehicles a time or two, but when the hood was removed was when it really got unpleasant.

I was stripped of mask, clothes and dignity. Like a scene out of 'First Blood” I was cruelly hosed down and then had a very rough physical medical examination. Through it all, that Major was there watching.

It was almost an relief when I was tossed into a cell. Food was provided even if it wasn't very good, but I'd learned a lesson on my long walk. When you're really hungry anything tastes good.

The hard pad even felt good after sleeping wherever I could for so long. However the next morning wasn't nice at all. The guards roughly dragged me out and strapped me to a gurney. A nurse shaved my head of the hair that'd grown during my walk. When I felt markers being used on my head I began to panic.

Medicine had come a long way and the things that could be abused scared me witless. Not that there was anything I could do. It seemed my revenge on Tiangong 5 was going to be lot more expensive then I'd thought.

A needle was jabbed into my arm, and I felt the light fading. As I'd done so many times since that terrible day in June, I thought of my family. Hold on, dear ones I'm coming...

Chapter 3

My awakening was like a desperate swim upwards to find the light after being alone in the dark for far too long. Thoughts and awareness were numb as from a terrible Winter of freezing cold.

Broaching that long night into day with the opening of my eyes brought only confusion. However there were two things that did not require my eyes. I had a tongue again. After being without for months it felt strange, but there were teeth too. Exploring my month with the restored appendage, they all seemed different from what I remembered.

What I saw appeared to be a relatively normal bedroom although with institutional furnishings like from a hotel or hospital. That bought back a flood of memories of being captured and being prepared for some sort of unpleasant surgery.

Trying to lift a hand, I quickly realized I was restrained to the bed. I couldn't even move my head. Even my fingers seemed unresponsive which was a really bad thing. Only my eyes and mouth appeared to be under my control.

Forcing myself not to panic was very difficult. Being prepared for brain surgery and waking paralyzed is beyond terrifying. That didn't explain why my teeth had been regenerated. My tongue made sense to replace so I could talk, but even that wasn't a necessity with electronic voders being more or less able to make me understandable.

I got a few answers when I decided I had nothing to lose by asking.

“Hello?” I asked aloud, but that was not what I heard.

“Ni hao?” And it was in the correct tonal range which had always given me trouble. Unlike some, I was aware of the difference, but I couldn't make my mouth corporate with my brains. The joys of almost being in a bi-lingual household. I contribute Grandma Hui and her babysitting with what little skill I had in Chinese at all.

However I had other problems. That 'hello' had been at a lot higher pitch than my normal tenor my Hawaiian father had passed on to me. In fact it sounded so high it was like a soprano.

Soprano?

This was not good.

Pretending to be an old woman was one thing. Honestly, I was treated as being sexless, but with respect in most cases. Not being able to speak, cut out a lot of complications too. However if I'd only been surgically altered, I shouldn't have spoken without thinking in Chinese.

Okay how bad was it?

A half hour later I knew. Rumors had floated around that China had developed rather advanced medical techniques since they had more relaxed rules about stem cell and other similar research than the West. However, besides speaking in that high soprano, I spoke perfect Chinese now and I do mean perfect. Think of an absolutely perfect language lesson recording. That's how I sounded which could only mean one thing.

I'd been puppeted.

Using always expanding nano-technology medical science, the technique was supposed to help regrow and bypass damaged neurological connections caused by disease and accidents. The problem was while it did work well on certain conditions, it was sorely lacking in others. An example of that was when it was used in an attempt at behavior modification for the criminally insane. The idea was to bypass the sectors of their gray matter that were causing the antisocial behavior and problems.

In a manner of speaking it worked, but more along the same way of lobotomies. Sometimes the procedure was effective, and the person got a new lease on life. At other times not so much, and it was damn hard to tell which patients it would help and ones it wouldn't. Even the failures ended up being more or less functional, but there was a good reason why those 'patients' were called puppets.

Like with me, whatever computer they'd put in my head was programmed with perfect Mandarin Chinese, so that was what I was speaking, like it or not. That was because the current generation implanted micro computer that made up the loss of the bypassed areas came close to doing the job, but not completely. You ended up with 'pod' people or 'Stepfords' who came across as if they were over-acting in a B-movie.

If I concentrated I could speak English, but it came out so heavily accented I winced. It also made me fear just what else was programmed into that damn thing they placed in my noggin. This was exactly the kind of abuse of the technology that everyone feared, not that it would do me any good to complain about it. Someone, it appeared, had taken offense at my attempt to walk out of China disguised as woman, even an old one.

I got some answers when a nurse entered, along with the Special Police Major who'd finally run me down. Never meeting my eyes, she put down the tray she carried and deferentially left.

“You may move freely. Please eat and refresh yourself ” He said, of course all in Chinese.

I didn't know if whether to be relieved or even more panicked when I successfully lifted a hand. As an active young man the thought I could be bought so low so easily wasn't good. The extremely slim hand I saw didn't help either. Perhaps it was more worrying when I didn't get up and run away screaming. I didn't like what I saw, but I couldn't feel fear, or hate to change that like into something else. Forget anti-depressants because I knew that damn microcomputer was controlling my mental state. It couldn't change what I thought, but it could alter how strongly I felt about it.

However, this had me feeling way out of balance, but that tray had water and food. Sitting up was an experience too, not because I was weak but because of the sensations. Unluckily for me I'd been right about my guesses about my changed voice and hands, as a pair of sensitive lumps shifted about on my chest.

Once again the panic, fear, and shock I knew I should be feeling just weren't there. Sighing, it was more of that damn programming which I couldn't do anything about. It was sad when I was more concerned about being hungry and thirsty than suddenly finding I'd grown breasts.

Carefully grasping the glass with both hands, I took my first swallow. The cool water tasted so good, I had to wonder if my senses were being affected as well as my feelings. Even though I was being careful given my concerns about my strength, I found myself eating and drinking almost delicately despite wanting to wolf it down.

Remember I'd lived for months by begging and what foraging I could get away with. Having even this much food was a godsend. Not reacting as I felt I should have left me feeling 'unbalanced' and out of sorts again.

Still it did give me a chance to study the man responsible for my downfall. First, he'd been promoted to Zhong Xiao, Lt. Colonel. Next I found I could easily read his name tag now, instead of having to puzzle it out, Wang. That was about the same as Smith in American as far as common surnames went. While it was very handy to have my literacy in Chinese improved, having my very mind being hacked wasn't remotely worth it. Sure, this stuff in my head could do that “Hey, I know Kung Fu!” thing, I rather doubt that would be one of the skills I would be given. Considering what I suspected I looked like, thinking about what these jokers would force me to learn wasn't a comforting line of thought.

Finishing off the last of the food, I wondered at what came next.

Col. Wang had stood silently watching me eat. At times I could see him subtly react to those times that damn computer modified my natural inclinations. If it looked the same as footage I'd seen of other 'puppets' it appeared very posed and false. I suppose in some cultures that might be acceptable and even look graceful. However, at first glance, it seemed the Colonel agreed with me that it was distasteful.

“Under normal circumstances, despite your 'procedure' I would be conducting this interview under more strict surroundings.” He began, obviously still uncomfortable. “But this situation has become complicated.”

My imagination could just see exactly what his version of strict surroundings consisted of, however the very idea that this mess could become more complicated was more of that bad thing.

“I take it you have worked out the results of your surgery?” He asked almost sounding concerned.

“I've been puppeted.” I replied, as that cursed computer forced me to meekly reply in Chinese.

“Yes,” He nodded, satisfied I'd worked it out. “The reason is because you're the only American Terrorist involved in the attacks we've been able to identify. The 'procedure' compels you to tell the truth, and that is why I recommended it to be applied to you. We need to determine exactly the equipment and methods that were used in order to prevent another attempt.”

“Drugs and other tools of questioning have their limitations. This process will give us as close to the unambiguous truth as is possible.” The Special Policeman sighed. “However, this is where the complications arise. I was sent to school in the United States to learn your country's latest criminology and forensic methods. Excelling in my studies and graduating high in my class, I returned home to discover that I'm not entirely trusted because I went to school in the West.

“I have Master degrees in Criminology and Forensics, but I was assigned as security to the Fusang One Ground Station. The only reason I was promoted was because I've succeeded where others have failed. I caught one of those responsible for the attacks on my country.

“This put my superiors in an untenable position.” He sighed, as I wondered where he was going with all of this. “They don't trust me, but your capture was far too important to simply ignore my accomplishment. Using one arrow to down two vultures, they decided to solve all of their problems.

“As with the West, 'puppets' are considered unable to manage their own affairs given the innate vulnerabilities of being programmable. In this instance you're a ward of the State, and please recall arranged marriages are still common here. This way they have a spy within my household that they can question at will, and with this transformation you will have disappeared without a trace.”

Even without that damn computer they put in my brain, I was speechless. Yes, I could read between the lines. Married to a man, me? More, married to this man who stole my chance for freedom from right before my eyes? We won't even mention the rest of being made to disappear or the usual POW abuse thing. I understood enough to know that while finding out a secret was good, it was even more important that the other side doesn't know you know. Maybe my emotions were being manipulated but that did not mean I was a robot.

This was totally against my very reality.

Col. Wang went on with his explanation of the 'complications' as if I hadn't frozen as stiff as a block of ice.

“Since we will have a relationship after this is over whether we want it or not, I'm going to attempt to make this as painless for both of us that I may and still do my duty. Understand, you won't be able resist the questioning, but that won't mean you've failed in your obligations. You must accept that your War is over.”

“Are you ready to begin?” He asked, setting a digital recorder by my tray on the nightstand.

I nodded my assent. What choice did I truly have?

“What is your given English name?” The Colonel began.

“2nd Lt. Thomas Ohana, US Air Force.” I answered, giving my use name. My true Hawaiian name had power which his phasing had allowed me to avoid giving to him.

“Ohana?” He asked.

“It's Hawaiian.” I answered, watching his reaction.

However, he only sighed. “You have my earnest condolences. That should never have happened, however, as a lowly major, I was not consulted. Regardless, we both have to live with the consequences. Now we must move on to more difficult questions.”

I would like to say I found a way of avoiding answering, but no. The best I could do was concentrate on not volunteering anything. It was like the damn computer in my head wouldn't let me shut up. More than anything else it reminded me of the first time I got drunk and I turned into a motormouth which is one of the reasons, if I drink at all it's in moderation.

The only thing that made this bearable at all was this had been anticipated by the mission planners. Truly, we Shadow pilots didn't know much besides what we had to in order to convince us to sign up for the virtual suicide mission and to fly the mission.

Before he clicked off his recorder, my fiance, please tell me that isn't really happening, said, “I also have to ask your forgiveness. Not knowing why, I was asked what I found physically desirable in my perfect woman. Normally such things would be harmless, it wasn't until they revealed our betrothal that I learned differently.”

He turned and left.

Although he had that whole Asian inscrutable thing going, I'd learned from my
Grandparents how to see past it. In this case I was pretty sure he wasn't any happier with this than I was. The difference was I was a lot more unhappy about it.

I didn't have time to brood about it even if the things in my head would let me. No more had the door shut than that nurse and a doctor came in for part two of my ordeal today. Can you spell physical therapy?

I suppose I must've been a golden child growing up since I avoided any major illnesses or injuries, opting for just the usual childhood stuff; chicken pox, bumps, and scrapes. By lunch I was sore, humiliated, and embarrassed beyond all possible belief. Nurse Chan was a stern taskmaster, and it would've been nice to have a doctor with a better bedside manner than Dr. Wu.

A quick examination confirmed the computer was permitting me to have a full range of motion, and then he gave a very short explanation of which I understood only part. I did get the important facts. This body was completely female because of the X chromosome that took over after they did something horrible to the Y I'd gotten from my Dad. The interloper came from them somehow copying Chinese DNA from my one X. Just how they picked out or decided what was Chinese and what wasn't was completely beyond me.

I was helped into this shapeless shift where I realized why Col. Wang was apologizing. My body was just this side of being anorexic thin. With that in mind, I knew these breasts only looked huge on that slim frame. Really they were only moderately sized, but the real problem was that they were on me. Then there was my complexion. I'm Hawaiian remember. Being nicely tanned was healthy. This extremely fair skin I had now was nearly as distasteful as those lumps. The only saving grace was it was flawless and smooth which sent goose bumps over me it was so sensuous.

Standing and then walking were trials. What little muscle I still had wanted to move one way, the implant demanded I move another. Plus, with my desecrated body's new center of balance and proportions I was caught in the middle hoping and wishing for the former.

At first I was surprised I hadn't lost any of my height. At five feet eight, 173cm, I was on the short side among my fellow Air Force cadets. I never let it bother me since it simply made aircraft cockpits all that more roomy for me while my larger, taller, classmates had squeeze themselves inside.

For a Chinese woman that's taller than the average male height. I'd faked it during my walk by nearly crippling myself by staying hunched over. By the time I'd reached Hong Kong I'd actually needed that damn cane.

I quickly learned about that proportion thing. Whatever they had done had widened my hips, but it seemed I had more leg now. Believe me when I say that. I felt like a crane with those long bird legs.

Col. Wang had spent time in America and knew our view on beauty differed greatly from the Chinese ideal. That was what he was apologizing for when he said he was Chinese. I'd heard some of my cousins from that side of the family complain how the exchange students from China would call girls fat who weren't even close, or how the girls would shun any sunlight for fear of darkening.

If I'd been allowed, any part of this would've had me comatose, but instead I stumbled though it as best as I could. That computer had its own ideas (about) how I was supposed to walk. Rather than take anything reassembling a normal stride, there was this short fashion model like step.

This is where that lack of bedside manner struck me.

“This is the computer learning how to walk. If you don't cooperate I will remove your conscious control so we can meet our schedule.” The so-called doctor addressed me coldly.

If I could've slugged the SOB I would have, but the freaking computer wouldn't let me do that either. Making one of those submissive gestures of assent that I was becoming really to dislike, I got though the experience. I moved liked some bad CGI animated figure, but I was under my own power.

My legs and those small feet of mine were aching, which answered clearly any thought of escape. I'd only been at this for a couple of hours and was in this much discomfort. The Procedure had stolen all possibility of me making a run for it. I was truly stuck. No, if I was going to get out of here it wouldn't be on foot.

Lunch wasn't very large, but it still filled me up which pointed out how small my stomach was now. I knew I was avoiding another issue too. The reason why I'd busted my butt to get that appointment to Colorado Springs was because I loved to fly. I'd caught the flying bug watching the para-sailors from my family's boat. Trying it myself, I'd advanced to hang-gilders in short order.

Reaching the academy was a dream come true and I'd taken to gliders and other aircraft like a fish to water. Along with sailing before I could walk, and navigating soon afterward, I joined the Cadet Aviation Club and was on track to become a Cadet instructor. That was before the War and losing my home. Now it seemed I'd lost my life long dream as well.

After lunch it was more of the Chinese version of physical therapy. Torture was more like it. Strange as it may seem I didn't get a good look at the new me until break time when they decided that although I was resting, I could still learn.

That plan went out the window the moment I saw that feminine face in the mirror. Despite the somewhat larger eyes and more pronounced nose as well as some other subtle changes, I knew this woman.

I'd seen her every time I went to my Grandparents house. Her smiling face was right beside a much young Grandfather Feng dressed in his finest for his wedding. I looked just like Grandmother Hui, or at the very minimum a very close relative. That's when it hit me that the DNA they'd extracted somehow had to be hers.

Computer in my head controlling my hormones and endocrines or not, I dissolved into tears.

I will say that although my trainers reaction wasn't kind at first, once I managed to communicate why I was distressed they backed off even if they weren't very supportive.

On the other hand at the end of my break, I was informed I would continue the therapy or else. I knew they were threatening to take me offline, leaving me as only a passenger in my own body.

It was only a guess that some kind of allowance for 'grieving' was part of the programming, but I couldn't help but notice my emotions calmed down very quickly. By the end of the day I was exhausted in all meanings and ways of the word. I couldn't call it the worst day of my life. That was reserved for June First while I watched in horror as my beloved home destroyed itself. However, this day was a firm second place.