I dither helplessly behind my little sister Max as we run for the window. I can't purge the image of Eva, dead on the floor, from my mind. Eva always tried to make an effort to be nice to me. Eva wasn't as good a soldier as she could've been, but she was the one who used to say to me, "Sit here with us, Jace." or "Are you OK, Jace?"
Oh, Eva...
Zack gives us the signal to move. I don't think even Zack likes me very much. Zane definitely doesn't like me, but I don't like him. I don't want Zane to like me.
I'm so afraid. Lydecker's going to kill us; he's going to kill us like he killed Eva. I didn't want to believe he'd ever do that. I can't die; I don't want to die...
They're running off. Max stops abruptly and turns to me, beckoning furiously.
We're all going to die. What are we doing, we shouldn't be running, we should be going back, begging forgiveness... Max, if we run we'll die and Max... I...
I'm shaking my head, backing away from Max like she's one of Ben's Nomalies. She shrugs slightly and runs after them, and they're through a window and gone in a second.
And I can't go after them now.
I watch Max trip and Jondy pull her up, stand at the window and watch them disappear into the forest.
The sound of the gunshot that felled Eva, the shatter of the window and their fading footsteps racket crazily around in my mind. Eva, what did you do it for?
A few shards of glass splinter and drop from the window into the snow down on the ground. The moon reflects off them. I feel like I've been stabbed.
Or shot through the heart.
I am suddenly aware that Eva is still on the floor. I turn from the window. Maybe she's OK. Maybe the bullet missed her, stunned her, maybe she only fainted. It's possible.
The hallway is filling with people. Eva is being picked up, zipped into a body bag. Wide-eyed, I gaze at her.
For one moment I see her face- her light hair like Syl's, her blue eyes like Zack's- before she becomes just another fallen soldier.
Eva, why?
And a soldier is clutching my skinny shoulder, grunting an order at me. I snap to attention.
"X5-798, you're to go back to the barracks and to go to bed. Now."
"Sir, yes sir," I say softly, as he escorts me all the way to the dormitory and actually stands at the door while I change into nightclothes. He turns away for some reason.
"Stay in your bed. We're going out to get your squadron back."
I am silent. "Sir, permission to ask a question, sir?" I call to him.
He pauses. "Permission granted."
"Is there really a chance they could survive out there? In a world that's- dirty, diseased, corrupt?"
The soldier looks almost pityingly, sadly at me for a moment. "It is possible," he says quietly, and leaves, locking the door.
And I lie here in my cot. Cloe is brought back, as well as a whimpering Amna, whose arm is in a sling. We are still- Amna's racking sobs puncture the silence. I want to scream and throw something at her, anything that will get it to stop. She's crying because her favourite sibling, Omri, is out in the forest alone.
Splint comes back surprisingly late- he's so clumsy I would have thought he'd be first captured. He's on crutches- probably lay in the snow, injured, until the soldiers found him. He's so weak.
Here's Saul. He's back, limping slightly. He has a huge gash over his eyes and won't make any communication with Amna. She's brought out of her grief for a moment, probably asking if he's seen Omri. Saul doesn't answer so she starts crying again.
Please, Amna. PLEASE. Stop crying Amna, you're scaring me, you're not helping anyone.
And finally, a stony-faced Zack is dragged into the dormitory. I wait as he climbs into bed. And wait. And wait.
Nobody else is brought back.
I hear Cloe whisper to Splint that Clay is in the infirmary.
I have a hollow feeling somewhere inside me. It's like a splinter or a wound, and it won't go away. I'm not bleeding, but it feels that way. Like something inside me is gone, and it's never, ever coming back.
There are so many empty beds. Amna won't stop crying. Please, Amna, stop crying. I can't take it any more.
They're dead. We're the lucky ones, the few of us who were caught or stayed behind. They're all dead, buried under their barcodes nearby the failed X-classes.
I imagine Tinga or Ben or Zane, dead in the snow. A bullet lodged in their brain.
I can't believe they would even consider running away. Eva, she broke the rules, she wasn't a good soldier. Jack, Jack wasn't up to scratch, it was probably kinder for him to die of seizures. Danny- well, Danny was an accident. Syl's accident. I wasn't there when he died, didn't see his body.
That's not them who betrayed Manticore, left us here all by ourselves. It's the best of them who ran away. It couldn't have been them who would leave me here. Sure, they didn't like me and I didn't like them, but they as good as killed themselves when they took out the guards... jumped through the window... ran off into the night. Some were saved from the jaws of death, but why them? Why Splint, who is allergic to everything and can't fire a gun without shooting one of the guards by accident? Why Amna, who cries when she doesn't have her favourite little brother with her?
Why me?
They've died and left me here all alone to pick up the pieces. How could they do that?
It wasn't truly my brothers and sisters who did that to me. Eva's not the only sibling who died tonight.
And as I lie here, Amna sobbing for the little brother who isn't ever coming back, Splint tossing and turning, Zack brooding, Saul sulking, Cloe reverting to type and biting away at her nails... I feel as if I'm dying.
* * *
I frown at the screen where mugshot after mugshot is displayed between horrible words.
I read. Max. TRAITOR. Jondy. RAT. Tinga. PLAGUE.
Max is a traitor.
Max. TRAITOR.
Max wanted me to come with them. Why was she being so nice to me? We didn't fight, not like Zane and me...
There's Zane. SNAKE.
Zane. SNAKE.
Zane is a snake.
I believe that. I don't like Zane. And Zane doesn't like me.
Something's happening to me. I'm starting to think these things before they come onscreen.
Ben. ENEMY.
Ben. Enemy.
Ben is my enemy.
I glare at Ben's picture, at his vacant look. That feigned innocence. Ben. Enemy.
I should think that something would happen. We've been sitting here for hours every day since about a week after the escape.
Krit. DESERTER.
Krit. Deserter.
Krit is a deserter.
Why did you desert us, Krit?
The soldier up the front of the classroom stops the slides. We haven't been in here nearly as long as yesterday. I wonder what he's doing?
"Who is this?" he barks at us.
"Sir, X5-711, sir!" we yell. Our answer isn't nearly as loud without the others...
"What is X5-711, X5-798?"
"X5-711 is a deserter, sir!" I answer.
"Correct. What did he do to you, X5-812?"
That's Saul.
"He deserted us, sir. He ran away, sir. He didn't obey, sir!" bellows Saul.
"Is X5-711 a good soldier, X5s?"
"No, sir!"
"I can't hear you!"
My fists clench. "NO, SIR!" I scream.
The slides start rolling again. I feel so hostile toward these faces, these soldiers I would kill them if I had the chance.
Zack. EVIL.
Zack. Evil.
Zack is evil. Well, of course Zack is evil. He ran away last night. His picture is a new one. He ran away of his own free will, under orders to stay on the base.
Roman. DANGEROUS.
Brin. SICKNESS.
Syl. CORRUPT.
Syl. Corrupt.
Syl is corrupt.
Syl is not a good soldier.
No. Not Syl. X5-701. 701 isn't a good soldier, she was never a good soldier. How could I want her here with me?
Omri. RAT.
Omri. Rat.
Omri's a rat, just like Jondy. Like all of them. Kill, kill, kill...
I remember that unnecessary attachment Amna formed with Omri and look at her.
I admit to shock. Her face is twisted in hatred. This is the girl who cried herself to sleep every night since the escape. Her knuckles are white and she looks ready to snap.
She's right to. I'm right to. We are right to stay.
Not a girl. Not Amna. She is a soldier, doesn't need a name. X5-347 has been turned. I would smile at her, but I can't seem to make my mouth move.
He stops the slides again, at Omri. "Who is this, X5-347?"
I get this. He's asking her because she used to love Omri so much.
"Sir, X5-826, sir!" she shrieks.
"And what IS X5-826, X5-347?"
"A rat!" she blurts, tears of exertion and rage springing to her eyes.
"A rat, what?"
"A rat, sir!"
The soldier nods. "And why do you call him a rat, X5-347?"
"BECAUSE HE BETRAYED US, SIR!" she answers, her voice filled with an unknown pain and anguish.
A shiver runs through Amna.
"Tell me some more about X5-826, soldier."
"Sir, X5-826 is a bad soldier! He did not obey. He did not think for the unit. He thought only of himself, sir!"
She is doing well.
The soldier is walking closer and closer to her. "And what," he asks, "of the X5 brother you knew?"
"Sir, with all due respect, sir, I have no brother!"
She is right. I would nod, I would agree but I am still with an untold fury.
How could they do this to us?
X5-452. TRAITOR.
X5-210. RAT.
X5-493. ENEMY.
X5-734. SICKNESS.
X5-711. DESERTER.
X5-701. CORRUPT.
X5-205. PAIN.
X5-599. EVIL.
Evil. Corrupt. Sickness. Rat. Traitor. Enemy. Deserter. Pain.
Did they even realise what they DID to us?
As the final image fades and we are sent to the target range, their faces won't leave my mind. I am handed a gun and imagine them as the targets.
An imaginary X5 target crumbles to the ground. The picture is so vivid in my mind I could almost cry and yet... he still seems to be mocking me.
I can't imagine a face for my imaginary target. It doesn't matter. They don't need faces any more.
I picture them dying under our bullets with a hatred so deep it feels like I am burning.
* * *
Twist. Jab. Twist. Jab.
Manticore has a unique and very effective way of dealing with the X5 heat cycles.
Punch. Twist and jab, twist and jab...
I've been repeatedly hitting this punching bag for three straight hours. I need a break.
Uggggh. Heat cycles in X5 females generally begin when we are capable of producing young. I just HAD to be an early bloomer. I am sixteen. I've been getting heat cycles since I was fourteen. Terrific.
So here I am, locked into a tiny cell all by myself. I'm brought food and water and am allowed to make use of the bathroom a few times in the day and night under constant supervision. Apart from that, I'm locked in here around the clock.
The room is miniscule. There is a low cot not unlike the ones in the barracks, a shelf and a table with one chair. There isn't even a window or a crack of any sort at the door. I am supplied with air through an air conditioning system.
They do not permit us to become bored and idle. We are brought amusements. I have my punching bag, some small computer chips and a tool kit to tinker with, three thick books and a pack of cards.
X5-347 is in heat too, in the cell next to mine. She-
What's that?
I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of a male walking down the hallway. I can hear his footsteps.
In unison, we both tear to the door. It's useless. They're locked from the outside and the locks are rigged so that if we try to pick them, we receive mild electric shocks.
Ohhhh...
The 'heat cells' are in an entirely separate building, underground. We are not even allowed near the anomalies.
X5-493 would have thought that logical for an entirely different reason-
X5-493. ENEMY. Enemy. He is the enemy. He is a bad soldier. He is a weak, disorganised- I can't even think of a word bad enough to describe him! Kill, kill, kill...
The smell and sound fades away. I hear X5-347 punch the wall in frustration. I drop to the floor and start doing push-ups.
Heat does more for upper body strength than any drill, I should think.
Ten, eleven, twelve... two hundred push-ups should do the trick.
It should but it won't. NOTHING helps with heat.
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven...
I'm so frustrated. I could be doing something productive.
I let out a cry to release some pent-up energy. It's like... here, a prisoner of my genes... I feel like I am useless.
* * *
I take a deep breath and knock sharply on the door of the garage where the SUVs are housed. Now that I'm nineteen, I've been going on independent missions a number of years. I am taking an 'extracurricular class' in which a lab technician will be teaching me about the terrain vehicles- maintenance and repairs among other things.
A man a few years older than me opens the door and smiles weakly at me. He's wearing glasses and has dark hair. "Are you the X5 I'm tutoring?" he asks me.
"Sir!" I bark, taking him aback. "Sir, I am X5-798. You are to tutor me on mechanical repairs, sir!"
"Call me Victor. And how old are you, exactly?"
"Sir, I am nineteen years old. I am one of the younger members of the X5 group, but I am eager to learn, sir. If you don't mind, I think we should get started, sir, because I have to complete some sprints and weightlifting before bed, sir."
He raises his eyebrows at my enthusiasm. "Well, I wouldn't like to keep you out past your curfew, 798." He chuckles and stops, coughing, when he sees that I'm not laughing. I don't understand. Is this humour?
He beckons me inside. "Now, 798, where do you think we should start?"
"Sir, if possible I would consider beginning with a practical review of the first chapter of the repair manual, sir."
"Very well. Do you need anything, 798?"
I think. "Sir, a pen and paper would be useful."
He watches me as I scribble down notes. "You're a very fast writer, 798," he observes.
I decide this must be a compliment. "Thank you, sir."
"You know, I've never seen you at close range before, X5-798. Usually just going to the target range or coming back from the mess hall." He pauses. "I didn't- didn't know you were so pretty."
I give him a piercing look and go back to my notes. What IS this strange non-transgenic fascination with physical appearance? It is something I have never considered, growing up in a place like this. Everyone was beautiful, growing up, so none of us stood out particularly.
About fifteen minutes later I finish the chapter and scan my notes before handing them to him. "I'd like you to quiz me on what I have learned, sir, and if you please, make the questions extremely difficult."
He laughs softly. "That's not one I've heard before."
I shrug. "Sir, I am fond of a challenge, sir."
"All right. Um... how would you go about fixing a radio with its range severely damaged by weather conditions?"
I raise my eyebrows. I think I'll play along if he considers that question extremely difficult. I find it ironic that he's the tutor and I am the student.
"Is there something wrong, 798?"
"Sir, no sir. Permission to comment, sir?"
"798, there's no need to ask."
"Very well, sir. I would, in all truth, find that particular question extremely difficult if I were an infant, or exceedingly dumb. I'm nineteen and I'm not here to be humoured," I say severely.
"I'm distracted," he mutters, and sighs. "What do you suppose we do, then, if my questions aren't hard enough for you?"
"Well sir, I need to go do my sprints soon. So I think I'll wrap up with an assignment. Was there any particular part of the text where I seemed to hesitate as if I did not understand?"
"Excuse me?"
"Sir, just say the word and I'll review the chapter again."
He looks at me perplexedly. "Do you even know why you're learning this, 798?"
"Yes, sir. So I can be all that I can be, sir!"
"No, you don't need to review anything. You've got it down cold." He starts to walk me to the garage door. "I look forward to our next class, 798."
I salute him as is customary. He grins. "You don't need to be so formal, 798."
The way he's behaving is making me uncomfortable. He's smiling at me. Why the hell is he smiling at me? What's he got to smile about? "Sir, I regret to say that you are behaving inappropriately. I am the student and you are the tutor, sir." I offer him my hand in a show of goodwill.
Solemnly, he shakes my hand. "You'd better go and do your sprints," he says. "Must be exhausting at this place."
"I can cope quite well, sir."
"I thought I asked you to call me Victor?"
This man is exasperating. "I was taught at a young age to show the proper respect to my superiors by addressing them with an appropriate title, sir."
"Believe me, 798. You will be showing me all the respect I could ever deserve by calling me by my name."
I hesitate. "If you wish... Victor."
"There," he says to me. "That wasn't so difficult, now, was it? And do you have a name? I'm starting to feel ridiculous calling you by a designation."
I remember suddenly a small blonde girl sitting on a low cot. Her voice echoes within me. 'Sit here with us, Jace,' she said to me.
Eva...
I steel myself. "I am not called anything but 798."
"I can learn to live with that. It's kind of cute, really." He laughs and stops, seeing my blank look. "That's a joke, 798."
"Oh. Well. Goodnight."
I don't know why I don't tell anyone about Victor. About the weirdly comfortable way I feel around him. But I find myself starting to look forward to our sessions together. I miss a lesson while on a mission... and almost pine for him.
It flatters me when his face lights up as I walk into the garage. It's like I am something special.
Of course, that's ridiculous. I'm nothing special.
"Hey, Victor, no need to look so happy," I tell him reprovingly. Oh, God, I'm dumb. I'm smiling too. I can't keep my smile out of my voice, so I yawn to try and work my mouth into a straight, unemotional line. "It's only me."
Well, maybe I have a bit of a reason to smile. Victor is... definitely something special.
"You have a ridiculously low opinion of yourself. It's common knowledge that when someone close to your heart walks into the room you're meant to smile."
Before I can squash it, some part of my brain starts singing out in joy. Close to his heart, did you hear that? Damn! I'm close to his heart!
I let it. I sort of like that feeling.
We have an almost comforting routine. I'll learn from him and him from me. Then I'll stand to go, we'll exchange a bit of banter... even something as appropriate as, "You're a good student, 798." will leave me feeling slightly giddy. I can even do something I haven't even seen since I was a child when I am around him.
I can smile.
Then I'll shake his hand and leave.
"... well, Victor," I say to him. "It's been a pleasure. I've stayed far too long and it'll be past midnight before I've done my weight training and sprints, but overall I'd say it's been worth it."
"I agree," he says to me. As usual, I offer him my hand and he takes it.
He seems to be suffering some intense internal battle. I start to ask whether he's feeling all right when he does it.
Victor Owen leans over and kisses me.
I stiffen in surprise. Nobody has ever shown me any kind of open affection since I was a child. Even then any shows of affection from other X5s were few and far between. Eva stroked my hair once after I had a nightmare and gave me a sort of half-hug at New Year, when we watched the fireworks over the valley through the dormitory window. Tinga put an arm around my shoulders. Krit used to ruffle my hair and delight in calling me Little Sister because of the two-day difference in our ages. But... this has never happened.
"798? Are you all right?" he asks in bewilderment.
Oh my God.
It DOES sound ridiculous.
"Listen, Victor," I say to him. "I'm not called anything but X5-798. But I'll make an exception. When we're together like we are now... my name is Jace."
He tries it out. "Jace." Then he grins at me. "I like it. It sounds like you."
"It should do," I say crisply, and very awkwardly I return the gesture before waving oddly and half leaving, half fleeing.
I have never, never felt quite like this. A smug smile plays around my mouth as I go to do my weight training. On this night, blissful in the memory of the kiss, I feel almost like I'm human.
* * *
"It hurts and I've started bleeding," I say tearfully into the phone. I can feel Lydecker looking at me. "I'm scared."
"OK, I'm on my way. Stay calm, lie down, and we'll get you a doctor," Max says to me, all sisterly concern and worry.
Traitor. The word automatically enters my mind, along with Max's face at the age of nine. Her eyes glaring at me from a projector screen. I struggle to eliminate the reflex.
Who's a traitor? I'm just like the rogue X5s, worse than the rogue X5s. I'm betraying her.
I remember Max beckoning me and my shining terror, my confusion and grief at having lost what I thought was the only sister who might unconditionally love me. Eva. I still miss her. Something tells me I'm never going to stop missing her.
But then, why is Max helping me? Because of this baby. It's Victor's and it's a girl, I know it. This baby is going to be Max's niece.
The various Manticore soldiers take their positions to ambush Max. Dully, I watch her riding her motorcycle down the street.
Max has been out here too long. She'll make excuses for me, insist I didn't want to send her back home to Manticore. Oh, but Max doesn't understand. I WANT to betray her. I HAVE to betray her. I've been given an order and I will obey, and send my little sister the traitor back to a place that most likely haunts her nightmares.
Oh, Max. She thinks I'm losing my baby, she's coming here like the hero she is to get me to a doctor. Max, don't.
Max is never going to forgive me for this...
But I want to send her back, don't I?
Lydecker called my kid a 'unique research opportunity'. I picture a child with my eyes and Victor's smile hooked up to machines, experimented on before she even knows the meaning of the word.
Cursing the mother who sent her to this hell.
I signal for the soldiers to leave the room and they do, unquestioningly. I'm X5-798, the good soldier. I'd never dupe Manticore. I'm not capable of duping Manticore...
I pull out a watch and angle it to catch the sun's rays. Max stops, gazing at me.
ESCAPE AND EVADE, I signal to her. I dilate my pupils to focus on Max's face and watch her mouth the words before nodding ever so slightly.
It's amazing. I did not think TRAITOR when I looked into her eyes.
And I'm heading downstairs. I have no idea what I'm doing. That's dangerous. Just like the rogue X5 known as Roman... That's not right. They tell me it is but it's not, it never was. He wasn't KNOWN as Roman, he WAS Roman, he named himself Roman. And Roman wasn't dangerous. Roman was a scared little boy.
I burst through the doors onto the street. I'm going with you, Max.
"Return to your position, soldier. You're disobeying a direct order," says Lydecker over the radio.
Yes. Yes, I am disobeying a direct order.
I don't care.
I pull out my earpiece and start to run. A soldier approaches me but he doesn't have a chance, I knock him out. Max sees me, roars over to me, taking out a soldier as she comes. I easily dispose of yet another assailant and scrambled onto the back of the bike with my little sister Max driving.
A soldier fires a taser at us. We both convulse, unable to think or breathe, but somehow Max guns the Ninja and we tear away, screeching around a corner and then up a ramp... over Lydecker.
I breathe in sharply, savouring this moment. I have my baby with me and my sister before me and I'm doing this with the memory of Victor and of Eva in my heart.
We seem suspended in time as we travel majestically over the man who has terrorised us since we were born. I remember his face as he shot Eva, my horror and shock at him. I'm not afraid of him any more.
I'm not afraid of him any more.
This is so momentous for me I want to scream it to the heavens. I'M NOT AFRAID OF HIM ANY MORE!!!
Max coolly blows him a kiss as he draws his gun all too slowly. He seems in awe of us, his chimeras, his perfect soldiers, his dark avenging angels.
And even as we touch the ground and drive away into the streets of Seattle, I hang onto that rush I felt. 'Cause as I escape from a nightmare I now realise didn't end for the '09 escapees any more than it ended for me... as I leave my past and pursue my destiny and finally do what I should have done ten long years ago, I feel as if I'm flying.
* * * * *
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Not me. So don't sue.
Oh, Eva...
Zack gives us the signal to move. I don't think even Zack likes me very much. Zane definitely doesn't like me, but I don't like him. I don't want Zane to like me.
I'm so afraid. Lydecker's going to kill us; he's going to kill us like he killed Eva. I didn't want to believe he'd ever do that. I can't die; I don't want to die...
They're running off. Max stops abruptly and turns to me, beckoning furiously.
We're all going to die. What are we doing, we shouldn't be running, we should be going back, begging forgiveness... Max, if we run we'll die and Max... I...
I'm shaking my head, backing away from Max like she's one of Ben's Nomalies. She shrugs slightly and runs after them, and they're through a window and gone in a second.
And I can't go after them now.
I watch Max trip and Jondy pull her up, stand at the window and watch them disappear into the forest.
The sound of the gunshot that felled Eva, the shatter of the window and their fading footsteps racket crazily around in my mind. Eva, what did you do it for?
A few shards of glass splinter and drop from the window into the snow down on the ground. The moon reflects off them. I feel like I've been stabbed.
Or shot through the heart.
I am suddenly aware that Eva is still on the floor. I turn from the window. Maybe she's OK. Maybe the bullet missed her, stunned her, maybe she only fainted. It's possible.
The hallway is filling with people. Eva is being picked up, zipped into a body bag. Wide-eyed, I gaze at her.
For one moment I see her face- her light hair like Syl's, her blue eyes like Zack's- before she becomes just another fallen soldier.
Eva, why?
And a soldier is clutching my skinny shoulder, grunting an order at me. I snap to attention.
"X5-798, you're to go back to the barracks and to go to bed. Now."
"Sir, yes sir," I say softly, as he escorts me all the way to the dormitory and actually stands at the door while I change into nightclothes. He turns away for some reason.
"Stay in your bed. We're going out to get your squadron back."
I am silent. "Sir, permission to ask a question, sir?" I call to him.
He pauses. "Permission granted."
"Is there really a chance they could survive out there? In a world that's- dirty, diseased, corrupt?"
The soldier looks almost pityingly, sadly at me for a moment. "It is possible," he says quietly, and leaves, locking the door.
And I lie here in my cot. Cloe is brought back, as well as a whimpering Amna, whose arm is in a sling. We are still- Amna's racking sobs puncture the silence. I want to scream and throw something at her, anything that will get it to stop. She's crying because her favourite sibling, Omri, is out in the forest alone.
Splint comes back surprisingly late- he's so clumsy I would have thought he'd be first captured. He's on crutches- probably lay in the snow, injured, until the soldiers found him. He's so weak.
Here's Saul. He's back, limping slightly. He has a huge gash over his eyes and won't make any communication with Amna. She's brought out of her grief for a moment, probably asking if he's seen Omri. Saul doesn't answer so she starts crying again.
Please, Amna. PLEASE. Stop crying Amna, you're scaring me, you're not helping anyone.
And finally, a stony-faced Zack is dragged into the dormitory. I wait as he climbs into bed. And wait. And wait.
Nobody else is brought back.
I hear Cloe whisper to Splint that Clay is in the infirmary.
I have a hollow feeling somewhere inside me. It's like a splinter or a wound, and it won't go away. I'm not bleeding, but it feels that way. Like something inside me is gone, and it's never, ever coming back.
There are so many empty beds. Amna won't stop crying. Please, Amna, stop crying. I can't take it any more.
They're dead. We're the lucky ones, the few of us who were caught or stayed behind. They're all dead, buried under their barcodes nearby the failed X-classes.
I imagine Tinga or Ben or Zane, dead in the snow. A bullet lodged in their brain.
I can't believe they would even consider running away. Eva, she broke the rules, she wasn't a good soldier. Jack, Jack wasn't up to scratch, it was probably kinder for him to die of seizures. Danny- well, Danny was an accident. Syl's accident. I wasn't there when he died, didn't see his body.
That's not them who betrayed Manticore, left us here all by ourselves. It's the best of them who ran away. It couldn't have been them who would leave me here. Sure, they didn't like me and I didn't like them, but they as good as killed themselves when they took out the guards... jumped through the window... ran off into the night. Some were saved from the jaws of death, but why them? Why Splint, who is allergic to everything and can't fire a gun without shooting one of the guards by accident? Why Amna, who cries when she doesn't have her favourite little brother with her?
Why me?
They've died and left me here all alone to pick up the pieces. How could they do that?
It wasn't truly my brothers and sisters who did that to me. Eva's not the only sibling who died tonight.
And as I lie here, Amna sobbing for the little brother who isn't ever coming back, Splint tossing and turning, Zack brooding, Saul sulking, Cloe reverting to type and biting away at her nails... I feel as if I'm dying.
* * *
I frown at the screen where mugshot after mugshot is displayed between horrible words.
I read. Max. TRAITOR. Jondy. RAT. Tinga. PLAGUE.
Max is a traitor.
Max. TRAITOR.
Max wanted me to come with them. Why was she being so nice to me? We didn't fight, not like Zane and me...
There's Zane. SNAKE.
Zane. SNAKE.
Zane is a snake.
I believe that. I don't like Zane. And Zane doesn't like me.
Something's happening to me. I'm starting to think these things before they come onscreen.
Ben. ENEMY.
Ben. Enemy.
Ben is my enemy.
I glare at Ben's picture, at his vacant look. That feigned innocence. Ben. Enemy.
I should think that something would happen. We've been sitting here for hours every day since about a week after the escape.
Krit. DESERTER.
Krit. Deserter.
Krit is a deserter.
Why did you desert us, Krit?
The soldier up the front of the classroom stops the slides. We haven't been in here nearly as long as yesterday. I wonder what he's doing?
"Who is this?" he barks at us.
"Sir, X5-711, sir!" we yell. Our answer isn't nearly as loud without the others...
"What is X5-711, X5-798?"
"X5-711 is a deserter, sir!" I answer.
"Correct. What did he do to you, X5-812?"
That's Saul.
"He deserted us, sir. He ran away, sir. He didn't obey, sir!" bellows Saul.
"Is X5-711 a good soldier, X5s?"
"No, sir!"
"I can't hear you!"
My fists clench. "NO, SIR!" I scream.
The slides start rolling again. I feel so hostile toward these faces, these soldiers I would kill them if I had the chance.
Zack. EVIL.
Zack. Evil.
Zack is evil. Well, of course Zack is evil. He ran away last night. His picture is a new one. He ran away of his own free will, under orders to stay on the base.
Roman. DANGEROUS.
Brin. SICKNESS.
Syl. CORRUPT.
Syl. Corrupt.
Syl is corrupt.
Syl is not a good soldier.
No. Not Syl. X5-701. 701 isn't a good soldier, she was never a good soldier. How could I want her here with me?
Omri. RAT.
Omri. Rat.
Omri's a rat, just like Jondy. Like all of them. Kill, kill, kill...
I remember that unnecessary attachment Amna formed with Omri and look at her.
I admit to shock. Her face is twisted in hatred. This is the girl who cried herself to sleep every night since the escape. Her knuckles are white and she looks ready to snap.
She's right to. I'm right to. We are right to stay.
Not a girl. Not Amna. She is a soldier, doesn't need a name. X5-347 has been turned. I would smile at her, but I can't seem to make my mouth move.
He stops the slides again, at Omri. "Who is this, X5-347?"
I get this. He's asking her because she used to love Omri so much.
"Sir, X5-826, sir!" she shrieks.
"And what IS X5-826, X5-347?"
"A rat!" she blurts, tears of exertion and rage springing to her eyes.
"A rat, what?"
"A rat, sir!"
The soldier nods. "And why do you call him a rat, X5-347?"
"BECAUSE HE BETRAYED US, SIR!" she answers, her voice filled with an unknown pain and anguish.
A shiver runs through Amna.
"Tell me some more about X5-826, soldier."
"Sir, X5-826 is a bad soldier! He did not obey. He did not think for the unit. He thought only of himself, sir!"
She is doing well.
The soldier is walking closer and closer to her. "And what," he asks, "of the X5 brother you knew?"
"Sir, with all due respect, sir, I have no brother!"
She is right. I would nod, I would agree but I am still with an untold fury.
How could they do this to us?
X5-452. TRAITOR.
X5-210. RAT.
X5-493. ENEMY.
X5-734. SICKNESS.
X5-711. DESERTER.
X5-701. CORRUPT.
X5-205. PAIN.
X5-599. EVIL.
Evil. Corrupt. Sickness. Rat. Traitor. Enemy. Deserter. Pain.
Did they even realise what they DID to us?
As the final image fades and we are sent to the target range, their faces won't leave my mind. I am handed a gun and imagine them as the targets.
An imaginary X5 target crumbles to the ground. The picture is so vivid in my mind I could almost cry and yet... he still seems to be mocking me.
I can't imagine a face for my imaginary target. It doesn't matter. They don't need faces any more.
I picture them dying under our bullets with a hatred so deep it feels like I am burning.
* * *
Twist. Jab. Twist. Jab.
Manticore has a unique and very effective way of dealing with the X5 heat cycles.
Punch. Twist and jab, twist and jab...
I've been repeatedly hitting this punching bag for three straight hours. I need a break.
Uggggh. Heat cycles in X5 females generally begin when we are capable of producing young. I just HAD to be an early bloomer. I am sixteen. I've been getting heat cycles since I was fourteen. Terrific.
So here I am, locked into a tiny cell all by myself. I'm brought food and water and am allowed to make use of the bathroom a few times in the day and night under constant supervision. Apart from that, I'm locked in here around the clock.
The room is miniscule. There is a low cot not unlike the ones in the barracks, a shelf and a table with one chair. There isn't even a window or a crack of any sort at the door. I am supplied with air through an air conditioning system.
They do not permit us to become bored and idle. We are brought amusements. I have my punching bag, some small computer chips and a tool kit to tinker with, three thick books and a pack of cards.
X5-347 is in heat too, in the cell next to mine. She-
What's that?
I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of a male walking down the hallway. I can hear his footsteps.
In unison, we both tear to the door. It's useless. They're locked from the outside and the locks are rigged so that if we try to pick them, we receive mild electric shocks.
Ohhhh...
The 'heat cells' are in an entirely separate building, underground. We are not even allowed near the anomalies.
X5-493 would have thought that logical for an entirely different reason-
X5-493. ENEMY. Enemy. He is the enemy. He is a bad soldier. He is a weak, disorganised- I can't even think of a word bad enough to describe him! Kill, kill, kill...
The smell and sound fades away. I hear X5-347 punch the wall in frustration. I drop to the floor and start doing push-ups.
Heat does more for upper body strength than any drill, I should think.
Ten, eleven, twelve... two hundred push-ups should do the trick.
It should but it won't. NOTHING helps with heat.
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven...
I'm so frustrated. I could be doing something productive.
I let out a cry to release some pent-up energy. It's like... here, a prisoner of my genes... I feel like I am useless.
* * *
I take a deep breath and knock sharply on the door of the garage where the SUVs are housed. Now that I'm nineteen, I've been going on independent missions a number of years. I am taking an 'extracurricular class' in which a lab technician will be teaching me about the terrain vehicles- maintenance and repairs among other things.
A man a few years older than me opens the door and smiles weakly at me. He's wearing glasses and has dark hair. "Are you the X5 I'm tutoring?" he asks me.
"Sir!" I bark, taking him aback. "Sir, I am X5-798. You are to tutor me on mechanical repairs, sir!"
"Call me Victor. And how old are you, exactly?"
"Sir, I am nineteen years old. I am one of the younger members of the X5 group, but I am eager to learn, sir. If you don't mind, I think we should get started, sir, because I have to complete some sprints and weightlifting before bed, sir."
He raises his eyebrows at my enthusiasm. "Well, I wouldn't like to keep you out past your curfew, 798." He chuckles and stops, coughing, when he sees that I'm not laughing. I don't understand. Is this humour?
He beckons me inside. "Now, 798, where do you think we should start?"
"Sir, if possible I would consider beginning with a practical review of the first chapter of the repair manual, sir."
"Very well. Do you need anything, 798?"
I think. "Sir, a pen and paper would be useful."
He watches me as I scribble down notes. "You're a very fast writer, 798," he observes.
I decide this must be a compliment. "Thank you, sir."
"You know, I've never seen you at close range before, X5-798. Usually just going to the target range or coming back from the mess hall." He pauses. "I didn't- didn't know you were so pretty."
I give him a piercing look and go back to my notes. What IS this strange non-transgenic fascination with physical appearance? It is something I have never considered, growing up in a place like this. Everyone was beautiful, growing up, so none of us stood out particularly.
About fifteen minutes later I finish the chapter and scan my notes before handing them to him. "I'd like you to quiz me on what I have learned, sir, and if you please, make the questions extremely difficult."
He laughs softly. "That's not one I've heard before."
I shrug. "Sir, I am fond of a challenge, sir."
"All right. Um... how would you go about fixing a radio with its range severely damaged by weather conditions?"
I raise my eyebrows. I think I'll play along if he considers that question extremely difficult. I find it ironic that he's the tutor and I am the student.
"Is there something wrong, 798?"
"Sir, no sir. Permission to comment, sir?"
"798, there's no need to ask."
"Very well, sir. I would, in all truth, find that particular question extremely difficult if I were an infant, or exceedingly dumb. I'm nineteen and I'm not here to be humoured," I say severely.
"I'm distracted," he mutters, and sighs. "What do you suppose we do, then, if my questions aren't hard enough for you?"
"Well sir, I need to go do my sprints soon. So I think I'll wrap up with an assignment. Was there any particular part of the text where I seemed to hesitate as if I did not understand?"
"Excuse me?"
"Sir, just say the word and I'll review the chapter again."
He looks at me perplexedly. "Do you even know why you're learning this, 798?"
"Yes, sir. So I can be all that I can be, sir!"
"No, you don't need to review anything. You've got it down cold." He starts to walk me to the garage door. "I look forward to our next class, 798."
I salute him as is customary. He grins. "You don't need to be so formal, 798."
The way he's behaving is making me uncomfortable. He's smiling at me. Why the hell is he smiling at me? What's he got to smile about? "Sir, I regret to say that you are behaving inappropriately. I am the student and you are the tutor, sir." I offer him my hand in a show of goodwill.
Solemnly, he shakes my hand. "You'd better go and do your sprints," he says. "Must be exhausting at this place."
"I can cope quite well, sir."
"I thought I asked you to call me Victor?"
This man is exasperating. "I was taught at a young age to show the proper respect to my superiors by addressing them with an appropriate title, sir."
"Believe me, 798. You will be showing me all the respect I could ever deserve by calling me by my name."
I hesitate. "If you wish... Victor."
"There," he says to me. "That wasn't so difficult, now, was it? And do you have a name? I'm starting to feel ridiculous calling you by a designation."
I remember suddenly a small blonde girl sitting on a low cot. Her voice echoes within me. 'Sit here with us, Jace,' she said to me.
Eva...
I steel myself. "I am not called anything but 798."
"I can learn to live with that. It's kind of cute, really." He laughs and stops, seeing my blank look. "That's a joke, 798."
"Oh. Well. Goodnight."
I don't know why I don't tell anyone about Victor. About the weirdly comfortable way I feel around him. But I find myself starting to look forward to our sessions together. I miss a lesson while on a mission... and almost pine for him.
It flatters me when his face lights up as I walk into the garage. It's like I am something special.
Of course, that's ridiculous. I'm nothing special.
"Hey, Victor, no need to look so happy," I tell him reprovingly. Oh, God, I'm dumb. I'm smiling too. I can't keep my smile out of my voice, so I yawn to try and work my mouth into a straight, unemotional line. "It's only me."
Well, maybe I have a bit of a reason to smile. Victor is... definitely something special.
"You have a ridiculously low opinion of yourself. It's common knowledge that when someone close to your heart walks into the room you're meant to smile."
Before I can squash it, some part of my brain starts singing out in joy. Close to his heart, did you hear that? Damn! I'm close to his heart!
I let it. I sort of like that feeling.
We have an almost comforting routine. I'll learn from him and him from me. Then I'll stand to go, we'll exchange a bit of banter... even something as appropriate as, "You're a good student, 798." will leave me feeling slightly giddy. I can even do something I haven't even seen since I was a child when I am around him.
I can smile.
Then I'll shake his hand and leave.
"... well, Victor," I say to him. "It's been a pleasure. I've stayed far too long and it'll be past midnight before I've done my weight training and sprints, but overall I'd say it's been worth it."
"I agree," he says to me. As usual, I offer him my hand and he takes it.
He seems to be suffering some intense internal battle. I start to ask whether he's feeling all right when he does it.
Victor Owen leans over and kisses me.
I stiffen in surprise. Nobody has ever shown me any kind of open affection since I was a child. Even then any shows of affection from other X5s were few and far between. Eva stroked my hair once after I had a nightmare and gave me a sort of half-hug at New Year, when we watched the fireworks over the valley through the dormitory window. Tinga put an arm around my shoulders. Krit used to ruffle my hair and delight in calling me Little Sister because of the two-day difference in our ages. But... this has never happened.
"798? Are you all right?" he asks in bewilderment.
Oh my God.
It DOES sound ridiculous.
"Listen, Victor," I say to him. "I'm not called anything but X5-798. But I'll make an exception. When we're together like we are now... my name is Jace."
He tries it out. "Jace." Then he grins at me. "I like it. It sounds like you."
"It should do," I say crisply, and very awkwardly I return the gesture before waving oddly and half leaving, half fleeing.
I have never, never felt quite like this. A smug smile plays around my mouth as I go to do my weight training. On this night, blissful in the memory of the kiss, I feel almost like I'm human.
* * *
"It hurts and I've started bleeding," I say tearfully into the phone. I can feel Lydecker looking at me. "I'm scared."
"OK, I'm on my way. Stay calm, lie down, and we'll get you a doctor," Max says to me, all sisterly concern and worry.
Traitor. The word automatically enters my mind, along with Max's face at the age of nine. Her eyes glaring at me from a projector screen. I struggle to eliminate the reflex.
Who's a traitor? I'm just like the rogue X5s, worse than the rogue X5s. I'm betraying her.
I remember Max beckoning me and my shining terror, my confusion and grief at having lost what I thought was the only sister who might unconditionally love me. Eva. I still miss her. Something tells me I'm never going to stop missing her.
But then, why is Max helping me? Because of this baby. It's Victor's and it's a girl, I know it. This baby is going to be Max's niece.
The various Manticore soldiers take their positions to ambush Max. Dully, I watch her riding her motorcycle down the street.
Max has been out here too long. She'll make excuses for me, insist I didn't want to send her back home to Manticore. Oh, but Max doesn't understand. I WANT to betray her. I HAVE to betray her. I've been given an order and I will obey, and send my little sister the traitor back to a place that most likely haunts her nightmares.
Oh, Max. She thinks I'm losing my baby, she's coming here like the hero she is to get me to a doctor. Max, don't.
Max is never going to forgive me for this...
But I want to send her back, don't I?
Lydecker called my kid a 'unique research opportunity'. I picture a child with my eyes and Victor's smile hooked up to machines, experimented on before she even knows the meaning of the word.
Cursing the mother who sent her to this hell.
I signal for the soldiers to leave the room and they do, unquestioningly. I'm X5-798, the good soldier. I'd never dupe Manticore. I'm not capable of duping Manticore...
I pull out a watch and angle it to catch the sun's rays. Max stops, gazing at me.
ESCAPE AND EVADE, I signal to her. I dilate my pupils to focus on Max's face and watch her mouth the words before nodding ever so slightly.
It's amazing. I did not think TRAITOR when I looked into her eyes.
And I'm heading downstairs. I have no idea what I'm doing. That's dangerous. Just like the rogue X5 known as Roman... That's not right. They tell me it is but it's not, it never was. He wasn't KNOWN as Roman, he WAS Roman, he named himself Roman. And Roman wasn't dangerous. Roman was a scared little boy.
I burst through the doors onto the street. I'm going with you, Max.
"Return to your position, soldier. You're disobeying a direct order," says Lydecker over the radio.
Yes. Yes, I am disobeying a direct order.
I don't care.
I pull out my earpiece and start to run. A soldier approaches me but he doesn't have a chance, I knock him out. Max sees me, roars over to me, taking out a soldier as she comes. I easily dispose of yet another assailant and scrambled onto the back of the bike with my little sister Max driving.
A soldier fires a taser at us. We both convulse, unable to think or breathe, but somehow Max guns the Ninja and we tear away, screeching around a corner and then up a ramp... over Lydecker.
I breathe in sharply, savouring this moment. I have my baby with me and my sister before me and I'm doing this with the memory of Victor and of Eva in my heart.
We seem suspended in time as we travel majestically over the man who has terrorised us since we were born. I remember his face as he shot Eva, my horror and shock at him. I'm not afraid of him any more.
I'm not afraid of him any more.
This is so momentous for me I want to scream it to the heavens. I'M NOT AFRAID OF HIM ANY MORE!!!
Max coolly blows him a kiss as he draws his gun all too slowly. He seems in awe of us, his chimeras, his perfect soldiers, his dark avenging angels.
And even as we touch the ground and drive away into the streets of Seattle, I hang onto that rush I felt. 'Cause as I escape from a nightmare I now realise didn't end for the '09 escapees any more than it ended for me... as I leave my past and pursue my destiny and finally do what I should have done ten long years ago, I feel as if I'm flying.
* * * * *
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Not me. So don't sue.