Caught and trapped in a situation that offers no means of escape, 2nd Lt. Tommy Ohana's ordeal is just beginning.

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.

That first hellish day set the tone for the ones that followed. Col. Wang would appear with breakfast and ask for clarification of previous answers or ask new ones. Then physical therapy until lunch with 'girl' training in the afternoon.

Forget the noise I made about 'I know Kung Fu.' It was disconcerting as hell to have my hands do things like makeup and hair styling which I knew for certain I knew absolutely nothing about. I did learn I could soften that whole 'Stepford' fake thing so I appeared more natural, but I had to really work at doing whatever it was myself instead of letting the computer run me by remote.

That was a double edged sword since it was a kind of surrender to this girl thing. There was also the theft of my Hawaiian heritage right out of my very DNA which still bothered and hurt me. There were so damn few of us islanders still alive that losing that part of myself was near a physical pain. The strange thing was that, while it had shocked me to see Grandmother Hui's face at first, it was also comforting in a way that a very visible reminder that my blood and heritage from my ancestors were still a part of me. Yeah I know its a kind of superstition like thing, but it was the culture I grew up in. Families were important. To have some of that removed was like a rape, perhaps worse if that was possible.

It wasn't until I had this dream that I was really able to get a handle on any of it. Before I'd been reacting when poked, I think because of the sheer vulnerable position I was in, as well as the continuing numbness like sensation when I didn't react or feel as strongly about things that should have me doing a serious freak out. My world was really seriously out of kilter!

The dream began with me sitting in front of that mirror with all that makeup stuff arrayed in front of me. Then a pair of hands warmly grasped my shoulders. A face appears behind me and it's Grandmother Hui, all young and pretty. Our eyes meet in the reflection and she breaks out in the biggest smile and hugs me from behind.

I start to turn around, but a sad shake of her head warns me not to. There was so much for us to tell each other, but it seemed we couldn't speak. Somehow she knew what had happened to me, and just as strangely I was certain she was here to let me know not only she, but all of my family were with me.

Waking with happy tears in my eyes, I had a few moments of wondering if Dr. Wu, the mad Chinese Frankenstein, had found a way to invade my dreams. No question my behavior was being modified, but how much of my very moving dream was the power of my faith in my heritage and family?

I decided that the last thing my puppeteers wanted was for me to develop a strategy for dealing with this situation. My dream I would take as it seemed. It was a gift to say no matter my appearance I was accepted, and the spirits of those I loved were with me.

It was a couple days after that I was allowed into the general population. Okay I was exaggerating again. This wasn't a prison, but it was a facility for politically sensitive patients. That meant in the most encompassing sense and not just a politically correct term for dissidents.

Not only those like me who were prisoners in all but name, but those high within the Communist Party of China. Wherever this facility was located, logic dictated it represented the pinnacle of its medical achievement. That was comforting since that said the unbelievable things done to me were not commonly available.

Logic also told me that my little flight a few months ago had earned a little payback for the million plus Hawaiians who would never wake from their sleep. I knew that at the very least Tiangong 5 was history. During my long walk I'd ample opportunity to sky-watch and that symbol of Chinese superiority was nowhere to be seen. However, even as large as the other power-sats were I wasn't as familiar with their orbits. At my best guess my fellow Shadow Fliers had gotten two which explained my treatment.

Five spaceborne weapons let them cover the world pretty damn good, and still let them beam down power to their energy starved nation. With only two, suddenly their resources were stretched thin and that gave the US of A windows of opportunity. In short, with five they could keep anyone else from launching anything into orbit, but two left holes. That also meant that the pesky beams that were so good at knocking out ICBM's and Stealth Bombers weren't protecting the Chairman's ass anymore.

You want to use the US for target practice for your weapons of mass destruction? Well, right back at you!

Okay, I didn't really feel that way, at least anymore. Like I said before, I was healing and I never did have anything against the people here. Nukes tend to very indiscriminate about who they blow up. No, I wanted the SOB's who picked up the phone and told Tiangong 5 to push the button.

However, at least I got a chance to see something else besides four walls. I'll admit the courtyard garden wasn't all that great next to my memories of my home, but it was an improvement. The domed over arboretum had that cutting edge architectural thing going that was a current Chinese fad. It also prevented anyone inside from knowing just what the outside was like.

Additionally don't think for a moment that being allowed more freedom let me mingle. There were well defined class sections where I and others like me were allowed to wander, but we were kept from our betters. It reminded me of James Cameron's 'Titanic' and the division between the first, second and third class passengers.

As much as I enjoyed the release there were a few things that weren't nice. The first was the frank stares I got from all the men. As unnerving as that was the outright hostile envious glares from the women were worse. While I understood that I was the very image of a Chinese Barbie Doll, I personally thought I resembled Jack Skellington's sister. You know white, bone thin, and all leg.

The next, and possibly even more disturbing, revelation was the very public announcement that the mighty People Republic of China had declared victory over the Kuomintang separatists and that the Twenty-third Provence, Taiwan was once more part of China.

Perhaps I was getting paranoid, but I had to wonder at my being allowed a bit more freedom at nearly the same time of this proclamation. However, while I may have been out of touch with the rest of the world, I'd observed that, despite noises of individual treaties, Japan, and South Korea had not actually signed anything.

If anything, more countries if not actively joining the US in the War, were taking much stronger stances. Even Russia and the other countries who had big investments in the International Space Station hadn't been appreciative of its destruction nor of being forced to abandon it at gunpoint so to speak. For that matter, watching that investment turn into an over-sized firework didn't make the PRC any friends.

Hell, even before I left, the most ardent US haters, ie the Middle East, had changed their tune. They'd almost had orgies in the streets after the aircraft carrier USS George Washington had gone down. That changed damn quick when the Chinese told the oil producers that the PRC would be paying a set price for crude oil from now on, or did the Sheiks enjoy the smell of miles of burning oil wells lit from orbit?

Taking a breath of the fresher air, I put those things out of my mind. It might be true that my war was over, but I knew for damn sure which side I was rooting for. My stride was still annoying, but I was still working on making it my walk. I had the idea that if I could get the computer to relax its control I could modify my steps if only in little ways. At any rate, it would make me look less robotic.

It also wasn't helpful that the fairly comfortable slippers I'd been allowed at first had been replaced with more fashionable heels that most definitely weren't. Still I was determined to beat this no matter how many men leered at me.

While studiously ignoring them, I noticed in one of the more privileged areas a very sad young girl, perhaps six or seven who's father appeared more interested in brow beating her than in giving love.

A bit of intelligence gathering told me she had a playground accident that would've paralyzed her for life. However, the same technology that'd been abused in my case would let her walk and even run again. I couldn't think of a more perfect example of the technology's two edged sword, good for her, bad for me.

Her father was seven kinds of a fool not thanking the very heavens for the gift he'd been given and the tragedy that'd been averted. It was only because he was high in the Party's leadership that his little girl was going to get a chance to be a woman strong and able to walk on her own. Oh how we throw the most priceless gifts away.

However, watching that small child sit there in that wheel chair all alone after her parents left her made my heart ache. Okay I admit those damn female hormones and computer master-minding it all had me busting out crying at the silliest things sometimes, but this was different. She reminded me so much of my younger cousins that never got a chance to grow up, that I couldn't help, but feel for her.

The truth was I was a child of the wind and sea, so how could I help since I wasn't even allowed to speak to someone of such high rank. Then my eyes caught on the swaying of a branch in the dome's ventilation system.

A polite request of a few sheets of paper and a pencil raised a few brows, but I wasn't refused. Then came the hard part. Doing this from here had its advantages and problems. Having the height was good, but there were cross breezes all over the place. The major hallways had significant drafts as well as the vents produce air currents. The thermals from the large glass dome couldn't be ignored either.

It was too far for the basic design, but I recalled one that had more wing area and was really forgiving if you didn't get your folds exactly right. A mistake could have my message drifting port or starboard. Finished, I used the pencil to give my craft its insignia.

Checking the conditions again, I let fly with my first attempt, paying close attention to its flight path. As expected, something went wrong and it got caught in a draft driving it too far to port where it went down due to one of the hallway drafts. Flight two, did better but needed a bit of pool-hall English to get it on target. A bit of careful bending of the control surfaces had me ready for flight number three. With my fingers crossed, I launched taking great care to repeat my motions exactly the same as the first two for consistency.

Wanting to grin, I instead still had a smile as my construction fluttered gracefully as if it had active terminal guidance right into that little girl's lap.

Startled, her eyes grew wide staring at the pair of smiley faces I'd drawn on the wings. Before she could look around to see where it could've come from I stepped back out of sight. It was better for her to wonder where who sent it. A bit of mystery and magic was good for the soul.

The staff of course saw all of this but neither them nor that damn thing in my head interfered. It was good for me too, since it distracted my from my troubles. Certainly my taskmasters made up any perceived wrong I'd done by drilling me endlessly in feminine deportment. Sitting down and smoothing my skirt and then standing again over and and over again got old, but as always they held that threat of taking away my conscious control. Just so I knew it wasn't a powerless threat, Dr. Wu once again proved he had all the compassion of a rock. He walked my body around the room and had me making all kinds of what the Chinese thought of as feminine gestures such as hiding my face behind my hands as I giggled and others I'm not going to talk about.

I began making a habit of dive bombing my young victim with smiles. She appeared to be more aware and happier now as she tried to spot me and I was happy to stay a mystery. After a while I found myself plumbing the depths of my knowledge of paper airplane making.

No surprise I wasn't allowed anywhere near a computer or tablet which would've helped my paper airplane designs, even though China had just about severed all outside internet connections with their draconian censoring. Be that as it may, nobody stopped me or complained about my paper airplanes which I think was a good thing for both of us.

Then I got a bump in the routine. Col. Wang's 'visit' was changed to him escorting me to a conference room.

“These are aviation experts who will question you about the specifics of your 'Shadow Flyer.'” He told me.

Hoping to head my 'motormouth' off at the pass, I politely stated, “I don't know how I'll be able to add to what I've told Col. Wang.”

The stony faces that greeted me didn't bode well. The first couple of questions answered one of my own. This wasn't a panel of aviation guys trying to reverse engineer a Shadow Flyer. No this panel was more like a flock of bureaucrats trying to cover their exposed posteriors.

That's when an old bit of history pointed me in the right direction. During WWII, Reichsmarschall Herman Goering had boasted, “No enemy bomber can reach the Ruhr. If one does reaches the Ruhr, my name is not Goering. You may address me as Meyer.”

It'd become a joke. First the British with their night bombing raids and then the good ole US of A with their daylight bombing attacks had devastated the infrastructure which fed the German war machine.

Still the computer in my head compelled me to answer and maintain that damn subservient mask it'd made me wear. Ironic that after my unmasking, I was wearing yet another mask, but one created by those who'd programmed that damn implanted computer. It'd also occurred to me that I'd brought this on myself.

The only event that was witnessed by the public was an old woman being arrested by the Special police. At no time did a young American pilot show up at any time. My transformation into Grandmother Hui's sister had further hidden and concealed me. This was all to make certain that my country didn't know I'd been captured.

However to further the irony, apparently now that they had me, they didn't want to believe me. While I can't say I liked or cared for my current position and wanted to avoid the future they had planned for me, that suited me fine. Sure, go ahead and underestimate the Shadow Fliers. There were still two or three of those damn orbital power-sats in orbit. Please give us a chance to knock them down.

Finally to bring this meeting to a head, one of the more belligerent speakers, Mr. Zhao, blew up, in a manner of speaking. “This preposterous! First you claim the American's built an invisible airplane that is completely undetectable by radar, thermal, or electromagnetic sensors, and then a military cadet flew it over five thousand kilometers without the aid of any modern navigational aids.

“Even more ridiculous is the concept that any explosive detonated at the rectenna site might have caused the destruction of the station in orbit. Even nuclear weapons could not have caused such, and as powerful as that explosive was at Fusang One it was not nuclear. Which brings up the fact a glider could never have carried enough explosives to cause the type of damage that occurred. This has to be some kind of deception.”

Li Ziyang who'd simply taken notes throughout, directed me, “Please respond to Mr. Zhao's analysis.”

“The Shadow Flyer is not invisible, but it is very difficult to detect.” I began. “It's design is innovative, but its the materials that are truly the heart of the glider. I can't give detailed explanations because they were kept from me. Obviously someone must've found some sign of my ejection so Col. Wang knew to look for me at all.

“The fact Fusang One was attacked says the Shadow Flyer does exist.” I sighed. “Despite my present appearance, I was sailing and navigating by the stars nearly as soon as I could walk. Those skills were just as helpful when I began flying. Yes, I was an Air Force cadet when I was accepted for the program, but I was given a 2nd' lieutenant’s commission when I completed the Shadow Flier program like all the other successful candidates.

“Microwaves are non-ionizing, and I don't see how the explosion even directed by the dish shaped rectenna could've directed enough force upwards to knock a space-station, but Occam's Razor says that is exactly what happened. The pilot-beam used to direct the microwaves was a laser which can cause ionization. Perhaps that played a part along with the huge power substation that was my aim point.

“However, the United States isn't known for sending out Kamikaze pilots. That is so politically incorrect, I can't see Congress ever allowing it.” I said very carefully not mentioning that what the law makers didn't know they couldn't prevent. Besides not a single person involved with the Flyers disagreed they were suicidal one way trips.

“I was a cadet, but was already an experienced hang-glider and para-sailor pilot before entering the Academy. I received my pilot license in my first year because of my preparation and was set to become a glider instructor. Additionally, I think you gentlemen are aware where I grew up provided ample motivation for me to volunteer for the Shadow Flyer Programer when they came looking for experienced glider pilots.” I actually managed to make eye contact, despite that damn programming. No, I couldn't hold it long, but damn it, I did do it!

Of course it didn't convey the right message. They saw me as a woman who was being disrespectful no matter if they knew I’d once been male. I also had the feeling that we'd wandered into that Chinese concept of 'Face.' Mianzi and the related Guanxi were concepts that honestly baffled me in spite of my cultural experience with my Grandparents and cousins. It was a kind of street cred like thing similar to respect, but much more involved and pervasive. One of the study aids about the subject produced for foreign teachers working in China before the War, said students participation in classes were much less common due to fears of making mistakes in front of others because of it.

An Asian Scholar, Ting-Toomey, I think it was, said “Face was a strategy to protect self-respect and individual identity.”

If these men were the ones responsible for China's air defense, then having their space-station and satellites blown out of the sky would be a mistake out there for the whole world to see. The term national prestige comes to mind especially right after they strutted in front of everyone after their 'Philippine Sea' victory.

“If I may,” Interrupted Col. Wang. “The implausibility of certain aspects of the attacks are well known to us. We know an aircraft was involved due to a last minute sighting as well as the circumstantial evidence of portions of the ejection seat being recovered as well as the parachute and flight suit.

“That led us to the pilot who, although very careful, was apprehended in the end. Additionally, we have testimony from the scientists and doctors that the process used on the pilot is working properly and in their opinion is telling the truth as she knows it.

“I'm not a scientist or an engineer,” Col. Wang continued, “But I do know Americans. They are not prone to throwing their people forward in futile suicidal gestures, but as she has told us, they all knew of the high risk nature of their mission. As well, many were no doubt highly motivated by the emotions that war nurtures in all concerned.

“As for the pilot's skill, the security team recently monitored her playing a harmless game with one of the younger patients. It subtly demonstrates her knowledge of aeronautics and of the principles of gliding.” He gestured towards the video screen at one end of the room.

It was easy to pick me out. All I had to do was look for Grandmother Hui. I knew it was a kind of cop-out, but it let me cope. I just couldn't think of this body as being mine. It didn't compute!

Regardless, there I was folding paper air planes. Then an image of my wheelchair bound friend took my place, along with others, to get a sense of the distance. The next one had me making one last check of conditions before launch.

Professor Secord's aerodynamics class was one of my favorites and if the War hadn't messed up my whole world I'd would've taken his advance studies class, although I was mostly familiar with the material already. He was just that good of a teacher. He'd had all us plebes folding planes as he demonstrated aeronautic principles of the different designs, giving us the ability to see those ideas in real life as we tested them.

From him I knew the world indoor record for paper planes was over 200 feet. My little flier traveled maybe a quarter of that, but I did have a more difficult flight path and I didn't want to use my friend as a lawn dart target. Smiles should be delivered gracefully.

Okay, I will admit a few of my attempts had my target having to move to retrieve them, but honestly my peeking at her didn't show any disappointment. In any case, Col. Wang used the footage of one of my successes having the fragile plane glide right into her lap.

“While not iron proof of her piloting skills this activity is a confirmation that she does know what she is talking about.” Col. Wang defended me. “This meeting was requested to gather specifics about the aircraft which attacked our country. Might I suggest we keep to the tropic?”

Honestly, I blushed as he stood up for me. Oh I sure wish I hadn't, but I couldn't take it back. A thousand curses on that programmer wouldn't be enough!

The rest of the questions indeed were about the Shadow Flyer's dimensions and as much as I could remember about the other technical details. I didn't feel too guilty about this since, like I said before, it was the materials that made the Flyer special. On those I was ignorant except for knowing they were some sort of exotic x-aerogel material which didn't help my interrogators one damn bit.

That made this bearable. I was still an American no matter how much they messed with my mind or body. It sucked that even if by some great miracle I returned to the States I would never be trusted by the powers that be. That would not stop me from doing my duty as I was able.

As the meeting reached it's ending, Mr. Zhao nodded at the Colonel. “With your permission I would like to ask a more general question. Why do you Americans continue to resist? Your aircraft carrier is at the bottom of the sea, and we've proved China can attack with impunity where and when ever it wishes. The object of contention lays in our hands. What is the purpose of continuing?”

“No one will ever know who's fighter fired that first missile which began that incident high over the Philippine Sea.” I saw the whole table object to my statement, but I merely nodded. “You'll say it was the Americans and they'll say it was the Chinese. What everyone does knows is that rather than stand down and let tempers cool, you instead turned your power-sat's masers on the 7th Fleet. That turned a nasty incident into a war.

“From your point of view that might've been simply defending yourself, but everyone else saw as an undeclared act of war.” I took a long breath thanking for the first time that damn chip in my head for keeping me calm. “Now I can talk about it. Hawaii was a stupendous screw-up on your parts. Despite your statements to the contrary almost everyone recognizes that you probably intended on forcing an eruption of Mauna Loa as a show of force. Hawaii's volcanoes were so non-explosive that the type was even named Hawaiian style.”

Even with the damping of my emotions I could feel tears forming.

“No one knows just why your masers triggered a Krakatoa like explosion. Maybe they never will, but what the estimated 200 megaton explosion didn't destroy, the 100 foot tsunami did. The following aftershocks and eruptions turned my home into a vast grave. I'm not going to mention the other 100,000 causalities from all over the Pacific Rim that were killed by the resulting tsunamis.

“I understand how difficult it would be to admit you accidentally blew up over a million people. I also understand the idea of the national loss of face, however when China declared that with Hawaii gone the United States had no reason to interfere with affairs in the Pacific and acted as if it was a premeditated and deliberate act was unforgivable.”

There were some uncomfortable movements on their side of the table.

“What choice has the United States but to accept terms?” Mr. Zhao pressed his question again. “This is not World War Two where the United States held the industrial advantage and was unreachable by its enemies. Much of its electronics and high tech goods were produced here in China or in the recovered territories of Formosa.”

“I see you didn't mention how many of those goods produced had back-doors hardwired into them allowing you access to all kinds of things from top secret military hardware to cellphones.” I riposted. “We found them and adapted, improvised, and overcame the problems. You may have us outnumbered, but we are great problem solvers when we're not quibbling among each other.

“The only reason China isn't a glowing radioactive desert right now is because too many others would hurt in the fallout and the aftermath.” I felt myself shivering from the effects of the computer really messing with me. I hadn't missed that I'd called my own countrymen 'them' instead of us, but this needed to be said.

“At present, even with all that has happened, if China withdrew from Taiwan,” I intentionally used the previous name. “And made reparations, I think some kind of peace could be made, just because of those points you made Mr. Zhao. However, China can't and won't do that will you?

“Just as your national pride prevents that, the US's anger won't allow anything less either. And we're not considering how the rest of the world sees China now. Even the UN has come down on the US's side even though they never acknowledged Taiwan as an independent nation.

“I don't believe things have gotten so bad that the United States and its Allies are going to demand an unconditional surrender, but I would be very careful of future activities.” Overwhelmed by the implant at last, I lowered my eyes and bowed my head.

Regardless, I was aware how each and everyone of them were staring at me in disbelief. Even Col. Wang, but his was more thoughtful than theirs. Well, he had spent time in the States. Perhaps he understood our character better, or not, I decided. If I, as an American, had trouble with the Chinese culture thing despite my Grandparents, then the Chinese had just as much trouble with Westerners.

They simply couldn't envision the outcome I suggested. They were the most populous country in the world although not the largest. That title still went to Russia, but even Canada and the United States beat them on square area. However, their economy and military might had grown so that everyone had to acknowledge that China had taken its place in the world as a leader.

Unfortunately, certain fractions saw the PRC's new position differently than others. Bluntly put, if national statesmen were rare, world statesmen were practically nonexistent. Yes you don't have to tell me how many times the USA has abused its superpower status to get what it wants. However, regardless of my country's arrogance, we generally tried to do the right thing.

That was something I truthfully couldn't say of the new China. Can you pronounce bully?

Col. Wang once again cleared his throat. “If that is all, this meeting is adjourned.”

My downcast eyes kept me from any last judgments of my interrogators, but off hand I would say the cultural divide was still in full force.

Leading me from the room the dear Colonel had a bombshell that was more than good enough to distract me from anything as inconsequential as a World War.

“The doctors have informed me that your 'recovery' has advanced to the stage where you can be soon released. Under the circumstances, my mother is traveling here to assist in the planning for our wedding,” Col. Wang told me.

His very formality spoke of his discomfort, but that was nothing in comparison to mine! Perhaps it was because of my recent fight with that computer conditioning in the conference room I was more aware that the 'happiness' I felt was induced and most certainly wasn't how I should be feeling.

Me, getting married to a man?

If that wasn't enough his mother was coming?

I was so doomed!