A different kind of mission - Chapter 15

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As they entered the Oval Office, they couldn’t help looking around at this archetypical seat of power for the American citizenry. Their flickering glances absorbed the three other occupants of the room along with the paintings and furnishings of the Chief Executive’s office. Two of those occupants were known, the President and First Lady. The third was unknown to any of the team but Marilyn. This third person was a man that they might have seen a thousand times, or never. At first glance, he appeared completely ordinary, with an average build, average height, and neutral coloring. It was only at a second glance that they noticed his almost-inhuman precision. He wore a standard dinner tuxedo that was perfectly tailored to his trim form instead of any military uniform, but he had the look of military training, if not current service. He stood with perfect balance, not at rigid military attention, but poised without fidgeting, shoulders symmetric, head erect, as though an engineer had designed him. He said nothing, though. There really wasn’t time if he had wanted to.

The First Lady launched an immediate attack, "All right, I want to know who put you up to this. You are obviously a real woman. Also, that long-haired girl is too young to even be in the army, and no one so innocent looking could possibly have suffered as that red-haired woman said she did. I won’t stand for someone trying to embarrass me, I mean, the President like this."

"I’m afraid we all know what you mean, dear, but that’s for the voters to decide," a voice curiously without power declared. There was an echo of power, though, as if the voice could have had power, or perhaps should have, or perhaps had access to so much power it could be heard in even the flattest of tones.

"Sam," the President continued, "do you know what’s going on?"

The precise man answered, "Well, Mr. President, I didn’t hear what Carol said to the First Lady, but I can guess. First, ma’am, let me assure you that these are all genetic males, all fully equipped with male genitalia. They do an amazing job of appearing as women and it helps to maintain the illusion by referring to them as women, but they are truly men. I assume that Carol told you something about Sandy’s ordeal on the mission. If necessary, I can produce the medical records to confirm the injuries that were inflicted upon her. It is a tribute to her skill and her strength of spirit that she can still appear innocent after what she has suffered. I assure you that not many could, whether born male or female. The success of Operation Seahorse was a team effort, but she certainly made a major contribution. She, or in her alternate persona he, is Sanford Beech, an army private and currently 20 years old."

When the operation was named a glance of confusion flickered among the enlisted members of the team. Surprisingly, this provoked an instant’s imperfection in the perfect neutrality of "Sam’s" face as a responsive flicker of smile creased the corners of his eyes. Instead of commenting, though, he looked at the President for further orders.

The President’s orders were for his wife, though. "Dear, why don’t you go back to the party and keep the guests happy. Offer my regrets and tell them I’ll be along in a few minutes."

The angry frustration in her eyes as her assertions about the team were blandly dismissed boded ill for whichever servant or underling she first encountered outside the office, but she did as the President requested and left the room. Once she was gone, the President turned on the famous smile and moved from his desk to a more-casual arrangement of sitting chairs.

"Please, um, ladies, sit down. Can we get you something to drink? I apologize if my manners are a bit . . uneven. I’ve never before had a chance to interact with such skilled . . is it cross-dressers?"

Sam replied, and the girls found out something about themselves in his answer. "Actually, Mr. President, according to the standard literature, it would be most correct to refer to the team as she-males. They constantly maintain a female appearance, more than just interim cross-dressing as transvestites do. Yet they do not consider themselves true women trapped in men’s bodies and are not preparing for Sexual Reassignment Surgery as transsexuals do. Isn’t that right, ladies?"

None of the others knew enough about the standard terms to agree or disagree, except perhaps for Marilyn, so they mostly just shrugged and tried to understand what he had said for themselves. They didn’t even know this guy that was talking, let alone know if what he said was right. Sam picked up on their confusion and the instant smile flickered at the corners of his eyes again. This time, instead of waiting for further questions from the President, he continued.

"Mr. President, I’ll make you a bet. I’ll bet that none of the team besides Marilyn had ever heard of Operation Seahorse until I mentioned it and that none of them knows who I am."

Marilyn smiled at this comment, though the President’s face mirrored the confusion on the rest of her team. "You’re right, Sam. They had no need to know," the team’s blonde leader said.

"I don’t understand what you mean," the President said.

"Since I was the only point of contact outside the team," explained Marilyn, "I was the only one who knew the code name for our mission. I was also the only one who knew our controller, Sam Gates."

Sam picked up the discussion, "That’s one of the things that makes Marilyn so effective for the team. She takes security seriously. If someone has no direct need to know, she doesn’t tell them. Period."

"Very well," the President responded. "Now, Sam tells me he thinks the team should continue and that you have consented to do so. I’m inclined to agree, but I have to admit I’m not sure why. You obviously represent a unique capability, but I’m not sure how we might need or use that uniqueness. I don’t expect we’ll have many more missions quite like the one you just completed. For the sake of all of us, I certainly hope not."

"We hope never to see another mission like that one either, Mr. President," Marilyn replied for the team, backed up by four vigorous nods. Their attention turned to Sam Gates, who had masterminded the creation of the team in the first place.

"Mr. President, the experts don’t agree on just how much of a person’s attitudes and characteristics are created by the culture in which they were raised versus how much is genetic. Nonetheless, it is true in our culture that men can be and usually are more ruthless than women, and more determined in mission accomplishment. They have a greater willingness to sacrifice themselves for their country, as opposed to defending only their children. Their plumbing is a less-important aspect of their manhood than their inner drive. This team is a group of beautiful women with the strength of will that typifies men. They are also physically stronger than typical of beautiful women, which is just one more advantage they can offer over teams that are female. Whether they ever need to demonstrate their virility in the line of duty again is not the only reason for sustaining this capability."

"I see," the Commander-in-Chief agreed. "Very well, you have my support. What shall we call this little secret?"

"I was thinking it might be appropriate to call them the ‘She-Male Independent Tactical Expedition.’ SMITE for short. When you have the need, they can smite the enemies of our country," Sam offered, another instance of a smile flashing.

"Why Sam," Marilyn laughed, "you do have a sense of humor after all."

The President stood and walked back to his desk where a pile of documents waited.

"Attention to orders," Gates said sharply. Old reflexes were triggered and the SMITE team found their bodies moving to formal positions, though the flowing gowns and soft curves kept them from duplicating the sharp precision Gates demonstrated. The President picked up the first document and spoke formally.

"General Merlin, for your actions in the recently completed mission, you and three of your team, Carol Stevenson, Jaymi Fox, and Vanna White are awarded Silver Star medals for conspicuous gallantry. Of course, these are all awarded in your real names, but you won’t be able to tell anyone how and when you won them, and your records are now assigned to Sam’s care and keeping. I’m sorry you won’t receive the real honor due to you, but you know the reasons why that’s not possible."

Then he turned to Sandy. He walked over to her and smiled at the pretty princess. It had finally sunk into his unconscious as well as conscious mind that this lovely young lady was really a man under her captivating finery, so his earlier reactions were no longer a problem, but it’s just not possible for a man to look at someone that pretty, appearing that innocent, and not smile.

"Sandy," he couldn’t suppress his own obligatory snicker, "for your actions, there’s really no reward, no honor that would be sufficient even if we could make them public. As the standard phrasing goes, you went far above and beyond the call of duty, suffering in ways that are so foreign to our way of life that those who weren’t there cannot even begin to appreciate your sacrifice, let alone show their appreciation properly. Nonetheless, it honors me to be able to present to you, the Congressional Medal of Honor. Your citation is sufficiently vague that I was able to let a few legislators see it without compromising security. Needless to say, it had my highest personal recommendation. In some ways, I don’t think I ever understood the concept of Duty, Honor, and Country that motivates the military mind until in my own mind’s eye I saw you accept the invasion of your body by that despicable device. I know that I could not have done it, not even for the life of my nation. I respect you. Thank you."

Sandy’s blush looked so perfect on her young face that even Marilyn almost forgot this was really a twenty-year-old male army private. When the President reached to shake her hand, her delicate gesture once again almost had him bowing to kiss her slim fingers. Once again he recovered though and then smiled at the memory of his earlier interest. That was the end of their interview. He suggested that they return to the dinner, but all the girls were saturated with the intensity of maintaining a perfectly feminine persona in such a glittering environment, not to mention the thought of once again returning within reach of the lecherous bureaucrats. They headed to their limousine instead, though Marilyn trailed behind and spoke with Sam Gates. In a few minutes she caught up and they embarked on a short trip to a local hotel.

"Team meeting in ten minutes," Marilyn announced. "Get comfortable, then come to my room."

The team assembled as ordered, then a glorious smile brought Marilyn’s face to life as she made a further announcement that was really no surprise, "Well, we’ve got another mission. Everybody gets a good night’s sleep, then we SMITE the wicked again."