Chapter 1

  The Day Everything Changed

  OPERATION IRON TALON

  Location: Classified Combat Zone

  Date: October 17, 2061

  Callsign: Viper-Two

  The rhythmic thrum of rotor blades filled the cockpit, a familiar sound that had become the heartbeat of Lt. William Alexander’s life. It wasn’t just noise; it was control, certainty—a mechanical symphony that drowned out the chaos of war. He was never the best pilot but never the worst. He skated in the middle of the pack.

  His hands rested steady on the stick, fingers adjusting with instinct and training rather than thought. The dim glow of HUD readouts flickered across his visor, displaying altitude, velocity, and the vital statistics of the CH-77 Wraith gunship. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made a man hyper-aware of every movement, every breath. His co-pilot, Lieutenant Jackson, shot him a glance. There had been an uneasy tension between them eversense Jackson had found a few bras and other female accouterments in his bunk. He had never told anyone he was transgender, not that anyone would be able to tell. The reinstatement of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had quashed any chance at transition while in the military. He was going to do his duty, finish his tour and go home. Then it would be time to figure out how to become who SHE really was.

  A voice from the radio shook William out of his thoughts, “Viper-Two, we’re three clicks from the LZ. Signal’s hot. Orders are to drop the package and provide overwatch.”

  “Roger that, Viper-Actual,” William replied, voice steady despite the static crackle of comms. “Stay sharp, Jackson. This isn’t a milk run.”

  Their mission was simple on paper—escort a quick-response unit into enemy territory, provide air support, and extract. But simplicity was a lie in combat zones like this. Their target was a high-value insurgent leader holed up in a fortified compound deep in the jungle. The kind of op where things always went sideways.

  A warning light blinked red—missile lock.

  “Shit,” Lt. Jackson muttered, hands moving fast over controls. “They got eyes on us.”

  William’s gut clenched. He twisted the stick, banking hard left just as the first missile streaked past, its smoke trail cutting through the darkened sky like a scar. Another lock alarm blared, and this time, the launch was dead on.

  “Chaff! Chaff! Chaff!” William ordered Jackson.

  “Hang on! It won’t engage!”

  The impact hit them like a sledgehammer. The right engine erupted in flames, sending the Wraith into a violent spin. William fought the controls, trying to stabilize, but gravity had other plans. Alarms screamed, metal groaned, and the jungle rushed up to meet them.

  “Mayday, mayday—Viper-Two going down—”

  The world turned into fire and fury.

  William’s consciousness swam up through layers of darkness. He felt the phantom sensation of movement, of breathlessness, of pain—but when he finally opened his eyes, he realized he wasn’t in the cockpit. It took him a moment to realize where he was, that moment between dreams and reality, where his body was producing adrenaline and cortisol to get him moving quickly. But William couldn’t move, couldn’t burn off the adrenaline—he could only attempt to quiet his body down.

  His live-in caregiver, the one his mother had hired, lived in his old room. He was stuck in the storage room they had converted into a long-term care space. It might as well have been a 9 by 13 prison cell for how much he actually needed.

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  His body, once a finely tuned machine, had atrophied to near nothing. He could feel the weight of his limbs, the pressure of the sheets covering him, the stale stagnant air in his room choking him. His breath quickened, though even that felt unnatural, controlled by something else.

  A shadow moved in his periphery. A woman—his caregiver, Ms. Pedo he called her—stood beside his bed, her dark eyes lingering on his emaciated form, "looks like someone had a little accident. Guess I'll have to clean up after you again." She cleaned up his bed and changed his sheets then moved on to wiping his private area down a little too thoroughly, and he ejaculated. "Oops, didn't mean for that to happen." She said in her sing-song voice, she always treated him like a child when she was like this. She commenced with licking up what was left on his thigh. He couldn't physically vomit anymore but he would have in that moment.

  William had brought up his concerns with his parents using the interface his sister had gotten him to translate his speech into text to voice over the monitor. They had dismissed it as just wanting attention, his dad had said, "Well if that's the case I should be paying her double. I'd give anything to lay about all day and have a woman handle me."

  There was no use attempting to call for help or using the interface to ask her to stop. She would just turn off his speakers for a day, to punish him for "ruining their good time". So he endured it. Luckily it was only twice a day. He was fairly stable as far as anything went. His day was mostly routine, Ms. Pedo's morning handling, then he would be alone for most of the day to surf the web. He mostly would read e-books and watch old movies with his parents' streaming service. Video games were a no go as his interface wasn't that responsive, at most he could play ancient point and click games but those grew repetitive and boring.

  Today was different though, after his regular morning went by he got a rare second visit out of the caregiver. She had some clothing in her arms. Just a pair of his old sweatpants and boxers. She tugged them over his legs, "There now you're ready for your visitors today. Can't be having them see what's all mine now can we." She set up a floor fan and sprayed some air freshener to get rid of the smell of the room.

  She left again, returning an hour later with three people, the first one a dark tan male in his mid-thirties walked in wearing a light beige 90’s style business suit, the one with the three-quarter sleeves that all the hip people wore back then. The second was a woman with blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She looked like a typical right-wing news anchor woman, right down to the way she styled her hair. The last was a man he immediately recognized, Major-no now Colonel Tomas Haggarity in full dress uniform, he looked as rigid and immovable as the last time William had seen him. That had been at his bedside in Virginia when he awarded him the purple heart and silver star, then medically discharged him from the service. Why he was here with these people he didn’t know.

  “Good to see you son,” The colonel said, “these people are here from ZefraTech and are going to be looking over the equipment your sister strategically acquired for you.”

  William chuckled internally, “strategically acquired” was a euphemism for stolen in the service. He put his thoughts to the interface and spoke in a monotone mechanical voice “WHY ARE YOU HERE, SIR?”

  The Colonel gave the monitor a glance and looked back at William, “Well son the good folks at ZefraTech want to test out their new gizmo and we signed a contract with them for fallen soldiers, like yourself, to be part of their beta test when they get the damn thing working. You however are a special case, your sister is in some hot water for sure, but the higher ups at ZefraTech want to rip that equipment out of your head, or use you as their first alpha tester. They approached me as your former CO to convince you that it would be in your best interest to agree to their terms. On a personal note son, you would be doing this country, and me, one last service by agreeing. My own son is much like yourself, wheelchair bound and unable to do the things he enjoyed. What do you say son, will you be the first boots on the ground one last time?”

  William considered he had read about the Colonel’s son being wheelchair bound. It seemed like the casualty rate had skyrocketed right around when his helicopter had gone down. Then the war ended and everyone moved on with their lives. This could be his chance at getting out of this, getting away from Ms. Pedo, getting out of this damn storage room, to make a difference. “YES,” said the monitor.

  “I knew we could count on you son. I have an ambulance service outside waiting to transport you to Boise International, from there you’ll go to ZefraTech HQ in Tampa. Good Luck son, and Godspeed.”