Changed Destinies

"I never give them hell- I just tell them the truth and they think it is hell."

-Harry Truman

Three Months Later

Paulina Ortega's eyes fluttered open, staring at the patterns on the wooden ceiling. She sighed, still feeling sand and grit in her eyes, the soreness of her limbs, and rolled back over, closing her eyes. She wanted to fall back asleep, desperately. The last three months of training Danny and Sam had put her through had been tiring, to say the least. But, it had been fulfilling, in so many other ways which is why she stayed in. Particularly when she got to fly. The warplanes which Mister and Mrs. Fenton called, for whatever reason, FrightFighters, incorporated the very latest in the aerospace technology either they had developed themselves, or the technology of Vlad Masters that had been bequeathed to them (along with DALV, what remained of Masters' corporations, and Axion Labs) by the government in the court proceedings.

She was still amazed at just how many technological advancements that the Fentons and Vlad Masters had managed to advance between them…and how, for some reason neither thought of marketing their stuff until very recently. She could forgive the Fentons, they were 'eggheads' par excellence and had been too absorbed with ghost hunting to consider the wider applications for their technology. She couldn't understand Vlad, and, why, instead of marketing his technology, he'd used it and his powers to rob banks, commit investor fraud, and try to destroy the Fentons. Why it never occurred to him to market his technologically legitimately and destroy the Fentons was one of those mysteries of the human condition that would never be solved.

Not that I wouldn't gladly take apart anyone who hurt my friends, she thought to herself. Especially Danny. She sighed. Just mentioning his name still caused her heart to flutter after three months, and, along with it, a tide of shame as she thought of those lost years where she'd sacrificed her integrity on the altar of popularity.

Which is why I'm here, to spend the rest of my life making up for it, she thought to herself. She glanced over at the clock, glowing 7:00 in large numbers. In three more hours. And rolled back over.

She was just slipping back to sleep when the grating sound of a cellphone on vibrate on a solid surface cut through the dark like a chainsaw. Giving an annoyed grunt, she rolled back over and grabbed the phone off the nightstand.

The text message from Danny was simple and to the point. "Meet me in Lincoln Park 7:30. Important information..

Paulina's eyes narrowed. Why would he want to meet me in the park?[/'i] The one hundred and sixty-seven acre park, containing among other things a zoo and an amusement park was a good mile and a half down the road from his house. Though if something major happened, he might not want to lead whatever enemy force he ran into back there, at least not yet. But wait, we have protocols for that. Nothing for it though...

Sighing, she yanked herself out of the bed and slid out of her nightgown, letting it fall to the floor as she walked over to her dresser. Opening it, she began pulling out the components of her individually tailored uniform. The first to go on were dark, space-black trousers, with a green stripe running up the outer right leg, followed by the white blouse. Finally she slid reached into her closet and pulled the black, double-breasted tunic off the hanger and slid into it. Finally she turned to admire herself in the mirror. The black tunic buttoned to the right, and green piping lined the piping to the right. It was also slightly wasp wasted, and had a longer than average skirt which fell to the upper thigh.

But what really drew her eyes were the rank insignia on her shoulder boards and on the pips on her collar. Two bright silver bars on each green shoulder board, followed by two silver rectangular pips on the right side of her collar, signifying her rank as Lieutenant in the ship's company, with the wings of an, albeit provisionally, certified fighter pilot, under the wings representing her FAA certification as an ostensibly civilian astronaut . Paulina sighed, for therein lay the serious problem: the lack of experienced officers in most areas, especially fighter pilots. A lot of the ghost hunters they were focusing on recruiting and training first had pilot training, but as Speeder pilots. Fighter pilots outside test ranges had still until extremely recently been the sole domain of the armed forces, and virtually all of them were unavailable for a variety of reasons. So, here she was, a squadron leader. In a squadron that was just as inexperienced as she was at the job they were theoretically supposed to be doing, and wasn't even half-formed yet to boot. True, she had plenty of leadership experience of a sort, she'd naturally taken the lead role in her circle of friends as far back as she could remember, and everyone said she'd been an excellent cheer captain. But leadership in varsity cheerleading and leadership as the commanding officer of a fighter squadron still in the process of working up were two entirely different things, even if the basic principles remained the same.

Still though, she thought to herself, even as her own anxiety wormed it's way out of her chest. For what it's worth, there is no one else available to fill my position, and I'm only the leader of one squadron. There are five others, and Jazz is in overall command of all of us. And it's not going to stop me from doing the very best I possibly can under the circumstances.

She sighed, thought about it, and buckled on her belt, carrying her holster and sidearm, which she figured she'd sorely need if her feelings on this whole park meeting turned out to be as accurate as she prayed they weren't.

When she'd gotten it on comfortably, she took one last look in the mirror, and couldn't help but smile. Whatever else this uniform means, I do clean up good in it. Even Danny's made appreciative comments about me in uniform. Then her heart sank slightly. If only playfully with no intent behind them.

She shook her head, she could pine away for Danny until she met someone else or until the increasingly hypothetical day that he started a relationship with her later. Time to do your job now, Lieutenant, she thought to herself, before grabbing her black beret off the dresser, fixing it on her head, and walked out her bedroom door, closing it behind her.

--------------

Danielle Fenton yawned as she walked down the empty corridor on the still mostly empty corridor of the Wrath Of Achilles. She smiled as she thought of the ship's name, and that she had suggested it herself, from the very first line of one of her favorite works despite its acknowledged age, The Iliad. Sing, O Muse, of the wrath of Achilles, son of Peleus… , she thought to herself, a smile on her face. The Iliad had been one of the first books she'd ever read, being on her shelf the first day she'd woken up with what she thought was no memory of who she was. Being alone in the bedroom Vlad had put her in to finally allow her to wake up after the months of accelerated growth and neural and psychological programming, she'd wandered over to the bookshelf and started reading, waiting for her parents or guardian or a doctor to show up and tell her what was going on.

Of course, she thought, it was only later that it turned out that I'd never had a childhood to begin with. When she left Vlad behind, and did a number on his cloning labs for good measure, the first thing she'd "liberated" from her old bedroom were several books. They were the only things Vlad had introduced her to worth holding on to.

And now, she thought as she made her way to the living quarters in the ship's Marine Country, his business empire is now in the hands of the people whom he made suffer the most, and they're using it to change the world. She thought to herself, not helping but smile. The quantum leaps in medical technology that Vlad had misused in his vendetta against the Fentons by creating her were now being used to grow organs for transplant. Organs that would never be rejected because they were copies in every way of the organs they were replacing, and making it likely that organ rejection and graft-versus-host disease would be things of the past inside a generation. People no longer had to go through their life with artificial limbs or no limbs, for any limbs that were lost, assuming the unlucky person survived losing them, could be regrown from scratch and surgically reattached.

She finally turned the corridor to see the door to one of the officer's quarters open into the corridor. She looked into see the two women she expected to see there.

The first one was the woman she'd come there to see. Beatrix Tang, Second Lieutenant Beatrix Tang, was one of her platoon companies in her half formed company that would make up what passed for an organic marine infantry regiment aboard ship. They were the ones who would do the lion's share of the ground fighting with ghosts (and aliens) once they were ready for active operations. As well as be expected to take on an increasingly rogue Guys in White if and when they finally dropped all pretense of loyalty to the United States.

The raven-haired platoon commander was a tough, no-nonsense young woman. Olive-skinned, epicanthic folds on her eyes, and long black hair pulled back into a bun, that combined with her attractive figure and made her popular with her male counterparts. Which was a moot point as she was already in a relationship with one of the ship's fighter pilots, had been for long before they ever signed on.

Speaking of fighter pilots, she thought to herself, looking at her platoon commander's guest, shooting her a mixture of mingled respect and irritation.

Ensign Margaret Potter, callsign Athena, known by her friends by the diminutive Molly, was of middling height (which was rapidly becoming the norm for fighter pilots, as women and smaller men could take gees better) was another one of Molly's friends from the brief ghost hunting group they'd formed out in California that had lasted for more than a few weeks before they'd applied to join FentonWork's rapidly expanding ghost/fighting-military arm. Fair skinned, with black hair, and dark eyes, and cutting an attractive figure of her own, she bore an astonishingly physical resemblance to Danielle herself.

In more ways than one, as she recognized at last her equal as an amateur historian. Now if only they weren't diametrically opposed on so many issues regarding history.

She shook those annoying thoughts from her head, as both women noticed her and came to attention. Nodding courteously to Molly, she turned to Beatrix.

"Lieutenant," she said. "Something's come up, we're going to Lincoln Park, and I want your platoon to provide security."

Trixie nodded, a eager, and predatory smile breaking out on her face. "Yes, sir, we'll be ready for anything, sir."

Danielle smiled. She'd received extremely high marks on all her tests when, as a previously established ghost hunter, she'd been tested to see if she could go through accelerated training, and seeing how she trained with her platoon, she could believe it.

Good, she thought to herself, feeling a twinge of anxiety. Because I have a bad feeling about this. I hope I'm wrong about needing them, one can't always be right about this, but still.

-----

Danny sighed as he brought his Jeep Grand Cherokee to a stop on the curb, his anxiety building even as he and Sam got out of the driver and passenger seat's respectively. The text, had come from Valerie, who'd claimed to have discovered some new information about their respective enemies, but didn't want to go to him directly, but instead meet him in the park.

The sound of wheels on pavement behind him drew his attention, and turned to see Valerie's Dodge Ram pull up to the curb. He watched his dark-skinned friend, clad in the inverted uniform of black blouse, green tunic and trousers, and a white stripe up the leg to distinguish her as a member of the ship's marine company, get out of the driver's seat. Then her words floored him.

"All right, Sam," she said, her arms folded under her breasts. "What's this about?"

Sam's eyes widened and she turned to give Danny and them both annoyed stares.

"Me?" She said. "We're out here because of a message you sent us."

Valerie's brow furrowed. "Me? I'm out here because of a message you sent us."

Another car pulled up next to them. Jazz's gray Ford Expedition pulled up to the curb, followed closely by Paulina and Starr's Ford Tauruses . As Jazz, Paulina and Starr stepped out of their respective cars, he held up his hand to forestall the questions they were going to ask.

"All right, it's clear some third party lured us out here," Danny said. "But for what?"

"You can say that again," another voice said from behind him, and he turned to see Danielle standing behind her, with two privates, a man and a woman, armed, and in full body armor. She shook her head. "I don't know what disturbs me more," she said, giving them faintly annoyed looks. "The fact that we were all lured out here, or the fact that out of all of us I was the only one smart enough to think to bring backup."

Danny's face heated. I should have thought of that, he thought to himself. But it was only three months ago that the backup I needed was Tucker, Sam and Valerie. This whole 'military' thing is foreign to me still, though I'll adapt.

Danielle, on the other hand, had spent the past three years facing situations like this on her own, and surviving by her own wits and courage. She saw the value of sufficient amounts of armed backup.

"Well," Danny said, sighing and recovering himself. "Is there anyone out there?"

The young marine captain nodded. "One woman. Say in her mid-forties, about your mother's approximate height but a much thinner build, sitting on one of the swings in the playground. There's no one else out there except for us."

"Then by all means let us go talk to her," he said. "She took the trouble to lure us all out here, it must be something important."

At that moment, Tucker's Honda Civic pulled up to the curb, and the former mayor of Amity Park stepped out of the car. "So, Danny, what is it you wanted to see us about?"

The woman, he noticed, was indeed of her mother's rough height and build, though she noticed that there was considerably less weight on her than on her mother, and not within the range for healthy adults either. This was the look of someone who wasn't eating right due to her circumstances, not someone who was slender due to genetics. But there was something about that face. It looked familiar.

"Ma'am?" He said, looking at her curiously.

"Ah," she said, a Czech accent on her voice. "So, that device my friend gave to me works."

It was the accent, combined with the face that apparently clinched it for someone for Danny heardTucker hiss in surprise from behind him.

"Rusalka Zelenkova," Tucker said, shock and disgust. "As I live and breathe."

Danny turned to look at him. "Who?"

"A biologist, late of Charles University in Prague," he said softly. "She kind of dropped off the radar for a little while. Apparently, both Charles University and the Czech government didn't approve over much of her attempts to resolve all the problems with viable cloning of humans. Which makes her the FBI and MI5's favorite pick for Vlad's expert on human cloning for his…project."

Tucker's scorn wasn't reserved for Danielle, rather for the fact that dozens of less viable clones died before her that didn't have to. The governments of the world were aware of that, though, not it seems, of the project that created Danielle.

"'Attempts?'" She said, an offended tone on her voice. "Oh, no I succeeded. Succeeded beyond my wildest dreams." She looked past Danny, and he knew, with a sinking feeling in his gut, who she was staring at.

"No," Danielle said from behind him, shock, and revulsion on her voice."

-----

"No," Paulina Ortega heard Danielle say next to her. She said nothing, didn't move, she was too mired in her own shock. Danielle, she thought to herself, is a clone? Of who? Then she looked, really looked between her and Danny, and the realization punched her in the gut. She's a clone of him, she thought. How is that possible?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rush of air as Danielle Fenton ran up to the woman in front of her. In the space of thirty seconds, she'd driven her fist into Zelenkova's gut, even as she drew her pistol. She grabbed her hair and yanked her neck back. "You did it, didn't you? Created all those clones that kept dying before my eyes, and Danny's."

To Paulina's surprise, horror and revulsion flashed in Zelenkova's eyes. "God, no," she said. "That was all Vladimir. I was bought on for the job for one purpose only: creating you."

"Liar," she said darkly. "You created them haphazardly didn't you? All those boys?"

"Danielle!" Danny's voice said sharply, growling out every word, ice blue eyes glittering with rage now. "Put your gun away, let go of her, and step back."

"ShAccount+e's responsible for how all those boys, how they died, melting into green sludge and being conscious for every last goddamn second of it. How I almost died!"

"No," Zelenkova spat out between gasps. "Not them, never them. I tried to save them, but I couldn't. I tried to save you, but I couldn't."

Danielle growled. "Why the hell should I believe you?"

"Let her explain herself and then we'll see," Danny said, softly though his tone was cold as ice.

She watched as Danielle, the murderous look in her eye slowly started to fade back into a simple death glare as she slowly slid the gun back into it's holster. She stepped back over to stand in the group.

Before anyone could stop her, she found herself asking, "How can she be a clone of Danny? I thought clones were genetic duplicates."

"Oh, you're right about that," Zelenkova said nodding. "She can't be a clone. And the opposite-sex-clone idea in the popular conscious since Heinlein, ignores the fact that such a clone wouldn't be a true clone, more like a somewhat more closely related sister than normal, and not a 'what-if' version of Danny had she been born female. But that's not what you are. Oh, Masters… contacted me and expected me to just sign off on his idea of simply doubling one of Mister Fenton's X chromosomes, but what he originally wanted was basically impossible due to genomic imprinting.n

"I have an inkling of what you're talking about," she heard Danny say, a trace of incredulity and confusion on his voice, "but refresh my memory."

Zelenkova nodded. "Basically, genomic imprinting is the fact that genes express themselves differently depending on whether or not they come from a man or a woman. Alleles are imprinted in such a way that the genes are expressed only by the non-imprinted genes coming from the mother or the father. Back in the 1980s, it was determined that normal development requires the contribution of both maternal and paternal chromosomes. Experiments on mice determined that virtually all mice that have two paternal or maternal genomes die at or before the blastocyst stage, and those that survived to reach that stage, the ones with two maternal genomes developed better. Somewhat."

"She couldn't have two copies of Danny's X chromosome and survive," Paulina found herself saying.

Just like that everyone around her flinched as though struck and began looking away from her pointedly.

"What?" She said, looking around at the people around her.

"She is not a true clone, not a clone at all as a matter of fact. To create her, I used sperm from Danny, and an egg from you, Miss Ortega."