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Private Laurie Partridge, BSc, 24 years old, had only been on the training base for a week when she was ordered to report to her commanding officer. The summons came while she was at the gym, learning to shadow-box.

Sweat was running down the sides of her face and dripping onto her sports-bra flattened breasts.

"Hit her! Come on, Private, this isn't finishing school. She's your goddamned enemy, and she's laughing at you! Let's put those farm muscles to work! HIT HER!" snapped the coach.

Laurie circled her opponent uneasily. The coach was right - she was a farm girl - though the farm was a 10-acre experimental unit, and she owned it herself. And hours spent baling and doing chores had given her lean muscles - now dripping after an afternoon at the gym. But she hadn't ever hit anyone, and the delicate-looking brunette dancing awkwardly around her didn't look like she had, either.

"Coach, sir!" barked a messenger.

Laurie turned to see what was happening, and the delicate-looking brunette clipped her hard on the jaw.

"Ugh!" gasped Laurie.

"Good work, Private!" said the coach, eyeing the brunette with approval. "Don't be such a pansy next time, Partridge!"

"I need Private Partridge, sir," said the messenger "Captain Nichol's orders."

"All right. Go shower, Private, and I expect you in better form tomorrow," the sergeant acquiesced.

In the shower, washing the shoulder-length red hair that was due to be shorn off in two days, Laurie tried not to worry. Sure, she was unused to army discipline, and frankly hated the thought of being in the military, but she'd been quiet about her personal opinions, and worked hard to prove her strength and skill. Joining the military had been a last ditch effort to find money for her Masters degree in microbiology, and she was damned if she'd let anything get in the way of becoming the research fellow she longed to be. There couldn't be a problem.

"I think we have a problem," said the Captain.

"Sir?" said Laurie, her stomach in knots.

"You don't need basic training," he elaborated. "All of your instructors have told me that you are already fully capable of the strength and weapons requirements. Hand to hand combat isn't your forte, but that won't need more than an hour or so a day."

"I see," said Laurie. She didn't see. She'd managed the 10 k run without a problem, but her marksmanship was far from perfect, and ropes training had been particularly challenging. However, she was quite ready for a change, and as long as this wasn't a meeting about shortcomings, Laurie saw no reason to point out that the Captain didn't quite have a complete picture of her abilities.

"I need staff for a special morale-related assignment, and you seem like the perfect person. I'm sending you to the doctor for a physical immediately, and you are to report tomorrow evening at 1900 hours to this building." He handed Laurie a slip of paper. "And wear civilian clothes, please."

"Dance clothes," he added, as an afterthought.

"Dance clothes, sir?" she asked, confused.

"You know, the kind of thing you might wear to a club. Do you have something appropriate?"

"I suppose so," she said. She did, in fact. Packing to leave, Laurie had slipped into her suitcase a last defiant salute to civilian life - her tightest, lowest-cut black dress, with spaghetti straps and a skirt slit to mid-thigh. And stilettos to go with them. It had been a waste of packing space, but, she had reasoned, they must get some time off-base.

"What are my instructions for this assignment, sir?" Laurie asked.

"You'll be told when you arrive. Don't worry about it now." And Laurie was dismissed.

Vague, Laurie thought, as she walked over to the site hospital. This is very vague. And there's no real reason for me to have another physical. But it doesn't matter. I'll do what they want me to do, and somehow I'll get out of spending three years here.

The doctor was tall, dark and curt.

"Take off your clothes and put this gown on, please," he said, motioning Laurie inside a screened area. "Come out when you're ready."

Laurie folded her fatigues carefully. The gown rode rather high up her thighs, she noted, trying to tug it down. Her doctor at home had been female, and Laurie much preferred having a woman physician. This man made her palms sweat.

"Done?"

"Yes," she called. The doctor pulled the screen back.

"Great. Lie down here, and put your feet in these stirrups."

"I had a physical three weeks ago," protested Laurie. "Surely you don't need to do this again..."

"I know it's a bit uncomfortable," he said, "But on these kind of assignments, we have to make sure..." He was taking out a pair of speculum.

"Make sure?" Laurie asked.

"That there's nothing wrong," the doctor finished absently. He was warming the metal spreaders in his hands.

"Down there?"

The doctor laughed. "You're quite right. It shouldn't matter, these goddamned recruits being who they are, but we like to keep everything on the up and up."

"Now wait a second," said Laurie. "I don't think I understand what's going-"

"Nurse!" the doctor called. The motherly-looking woman who had announced Laurie entered the room.

"This Private is a bit too tense for the exam. Could you, hm, help her relax for a moment?"

"Certainly, Doctor," said the nurse. "Now don't worry dear, I know this seems odd, but it's just routine really..." She was coming to stand behind Laurie. Her hands were suddenly massaging Laurie's shoulders... and then Laurie felt a prick in her neck.

"Hey! What....." Drowsiness suddenly held Laurie firm. Her eyelids dropped. "I'm not asleep," she mumbled.

"Of course you're not, dear. This won't take a minute."

"She's a virgin! Who would have thought?" the doctor said, crouched between Laurie's legs. He eyed her long thin thighs and shapely calves appreciatively.

"Now doctor," said Nurse, "That's not professional."

"I'm just admiring, Nurse, just admiring. The gloves are staying on. And she can't hear me." He took a swab out of a drawer behind him, used it, and dropped it in a zip-lock bag. "Take this to the lab, would you? Get them to run it for everything, though I doubt this dewdrop's got any problems she's likely to pass on to the men." Laurie woke up in the doctor's office, with the curtain drawn around the examining bed and a paper sheet drawn up over her gown.

"Hello?," she called.

"Are you awake? You can get dressed now," the doctor said.

"All right," said Laurie slowly. Why had she been asleep? She couldn't remember.

"You passed out on us when I was taking a blood sample," said the doctor cheerfully, as Laurie emerged, fully dressed. "It happens all the time. Don't worry. I got everything I needed."

"I still don't understand why I'm here - what didn't my last physical cover?" Laurie asked. There was something odd about the situation.

"Oh, it covered everything," said the doctor. "We just had to make sure it was still accurate. After all, a lot of things get passed around on the base."

"But I'm fine."

"We'll know tomorrow. I wouldn't worry."

The next evening, at 7:30, fresh from her shower and wrapped in a towel, Laurie apprehensively looked at the dress lying on her bed. It was skimpier than she remembered. In front of the mirror, it looked even worse. The square bodice was so tight across her breasts that they spilled out the sides, unless she pushed them together, which created such spectacular cleavage that Laurie blushed. Her waist looked ridiculously small. The slit up the side, which had seemed daring in the store, now threatened to show too much skin if she moved. And the stilettos made her legs look sleek in a way that was almost...

"Slutty," Laurie said. "Damn it."

It was too late to change, and she had nothing else to wear anyway. Laurie tried to rectify the situation with the most elegant make-up she could apply, and a black cardigan to cover the top of the dress. Wrapping her standard-issue trench around the dress, which made her less uneasy about crossing the site, she walked out of her room.

"I just bet it's an awards dinner, too," she muttered to herself, "And I'll be the person supposed to present. They'll send me back to basic in a second."

The reception lobby of the building she had been sent to, however, did not seemed prepped for an awards dinner. It was on the edge of the base compound, and Laurie had never been inside. Except for the scratching of a guard's pen at a desk in the centre, and the hum of the fluorescent light, it was silent.

"Private Partridge?" the guard called. "You're right on time. Second door to your left, down that hallway."

Laurie's heels echoed on the tiles. The second door to the left was unremarkable, with a small window in the top half. The room inside was darkened. She opened the door and felt for a light switch.

The glare was momentarily blinding. The room Laurie was standing in was entirely white. The only furniture was a chair... and an oddly bent piece of thick clear plastic at the side, shaped like a twisted, sideways letter H. Laurie walked over to examine it. It was at waist height, and the top was slightly tilted. The lower and upper edges of the top level split. Those on the bottom bent inward in a lightning bolt shape, and then attached to a support on the bottom. The upper edges elongated to suggest outstretched arms, and ended in bars. The whole thing was very smooth, and very warm.

There was a click behind her. Laurie spun around to see that the door had swung shut.

There was no doorknob or latch on the inside of the door. And the window - was shiny. It was a one-way window.

"What's going on?" Laurie yelled. "I'm locked in this room - can someone let me out? Hello?"

"Hello Laurie." The voice was male, and soft. It seemed to be all around her.

"Who is that?" Laurie yelled.

"I'm in charge of the morale project. I'm so glad you've joined our staff."
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