Title: THE MISSION (Chapter 2)
Synopsis: The cure for the virus keeping Max and Logan apart may still be out there. Alec is sent on a mission to recover it, but will his mission change everything in ways no one ever anticipated? [Alec & Max: Romance/Angst/Action]
Notes: Thanks so much for the quick feedback. You guys rock! I completely forgot how much I adore the fanfiction community—so much sweeter and productive than some of the voices in the publishing for-profit world. Hope you continue to enjoy the ride (and pray my publicist remains clueless I'm doing this; since I can't definitively prove doing this will result in my actual book's sales going up, she'll put me under lockdown without wifi if she gets wise to this).
# # # #
"Max?" Logan said for the third time.
She continued to look at the screen, unblinking. There was no emotion on her face, but there was a deathly cold light shining in her eyes. It radiated the darkness she always felt within her but had been able to fight back time and again as she convinced herself that things would get better—or at least not get worse.
Things were now worse.
Or maybe they always had been drifting there, but it took something like this to shake her sufficiently that she couldn't ignore it anymore. Yes, they were on what felt like permanent lockdown in a toxic wasteland. Yes, half the country wanted to exterminate them (a quarter wanted to pray for them or ignore them hoping they would go away or blend in and the remaining bits thought they were not real and part of a government conspiracy to cover up the existence of aliens from another galaxy). She was in-charge of a refugee camp of highly trained, not easily controlled super-soldiers all looking to her each day to know what to do next. The day-in and day-out grind was withering and wearying, but somehow she had always felt there was a glimmer of hope as each day rolled around and they were still here.
But now they weren't. Not all of them.
They had lost too many of their number to hate, fear, jealous and sadism. They had lost some to their own kind. Now, they were down yet another man. And this one was her fault.
She felt that way about a lot of their losses in the past, but this one was different. This wasn't Ben, whose life she snuffled out with her own hands. This wasn't Zac whose life she asked Logan to erase and rewrite after Manticore turned his valiant and heroic sacrifice into a means to twist him into a vicious killing machine aimed only at taking the man she loved from her.
This was Alec. Alec was gone, and it was her fault because he died to help her.
She was under no delusions about the general basis of his motivation. There were definitely some questions about the specifics for why he made the choice, but there was no doubt in her mind that he did choose to take the mission in an effort to set her free. What he hoped to gain from that—after all, it was Alec and there was always a personal angle to consider in all his actions—was a mystery. It would have to remain one as he would not be able to explain now.
"It's certain?" she asked listlessly.
"The ship?" Logan inquired. "Yeah, may have been pirates who boarded and things got hairy; I… uh, I have one source that claims the ship was carrying a weapons cache for some businesses minded North Koreans. Looks like the exchange was supposed to happen in the port but maybe the buyers had other ideas and tried to lift the load at sea to avoid payment. Or maybe they hired Filipino pirates to do it. I don't know. We do know that the ship blew up before sinking. Lends a lot of credence to the report that says they were hauling guns and explosives."
"He sure could pick 'em," she said distantly, wondering what his last moments were like. "Couldn't hitch a ride on shrimp boat or an oil tanker, no. Alec draws the one packed with incendiary ordinance. Huh. Mole would be proud."
Logan left her to silent thoughts for a moment. As he continued to look at her disbelieving features, he could sense her confusion, guilt and pain. He cleared his throat and continued his report in an effort to give her something firm to help her understand.
"I dug around, but there's no satellite imagery I can hack into as there's nothing pointed at that area that I can determine," Logan offered, seeing the listlessness in her expression as he felt the omnipotence of his details.
"So we don't know what really went down," she said resignedly.
Did he fight, she wondered. Stupid question. Of course, he did. Not on either side, no doubt, but for himself. Unless he was caught by surprise. She didn't know if Alec was a light sleeper; stood to reason he would be. Most X5's were hyper-vigilant. Not all had her ability to go extremely long periods without rest, but all had the training to remain awake several times longer than the averages special forces operative without difficulty.
"I'm sure it was over quickly," Logan said for lack of anything better to offer. He sighed. "The Japanese combed the area for two days after receiving the distress call with the coordinates. They scoured the area, in case there were any survivors. They, uh, they didn't find any. No one even made it into a life raft. Actually, considering what I am learning about the ship, there's a chance they didn't have any of those anyway. Not surprisingly, they were not up to code."
Logan paused as he observed the blank look on her face. He wasn't sure if he saw her brow contract in confusion or anger. Fearing this latest setback might launch her into another cold war tactic of not taking his calls or preventing him entry into her stronghold, he quickly explained.
"Not that I knew any of this when we started," he said. "I would never have put Alec on a ship I knew was… unsafe, I mean, destined for this sort of end. The papers said it was just a freight vessel doing a delivery to Seattle then sailing on to San Francisco before heading west across the Pacific. I guess I should have looked harder into the cargo from San Francisco. I just didn't think it was important because Alec wasn't supposed to get involved in any of their other… I mean, I don't think he was involved with… That is, I didn't think to do it because I wasn't worried about Alec while he was on the boat. I mean… he's Alec. He pretty much muddles through and survives anything."
"Until this," she offered dully.
"Yeah," Logan sighed. "I'm sorry, Max. I really am."
And he was. He didn't feel remorse exactly or any real sorrow, but he did have a pang of guilt that the only reason Alec was on the doomed ship was because Logan's network turned up the doctor's name. He didn't like sending anyone to their death, even someone like Alec whose early demise was not all that unexpected. Sure, he might bounce back from all sorts of mayhem and chaos and you did sort of always expect him to dodge the bullet (and not just because he was technically faster than one), but there was also something reckless in his approach to life. He knew he was nearly indestructible, and he acted that way, even when he shouldn't. The only thing that allowed Logan to square this in his mind as an acceptable loss was the fact that Alec volunteered for the mission; although, the motivation behind that remained something he did not understand.
"Should I tell the others?" she wondered.
Morale was low, not surprisingly. Hearing they'd lost another, this one on a mission for an Ordinary no less, would not lighten the mood or make anyone feel overly friendly to those who were forcing them to be penned in TC like prisoners or worse, rats in cages.
"I don't know," Logan replied honestly. "Will they care? I mean, have they been asking about him?"
"Some," she shrugged. "And yes, a lot of them will care."
"Sorry," Logan mumbled and ran a weary hand over his face.
He got the call around 2 a.m. about the fate of the ship. He had known for several days she did not put into port as expected. He had been checking weather reports and other leads to see what might have delayed her. Finding none, he began digging, feeling is own hopes for the future draining away painfully as each inquiry turned up negative information. When the report of the sunken vessel hit his email, it was like being shot all over again. He lost all feeling for a few moments before the realization, like the pain of bones shattering, ripped through his body. He'd had people make contact with the other doctors, O'Connell and Meinke. They would not be of any help. Both, however, mentioned the one they felt might: Brezhenski. Logan didn't put much more effort into looking for the lost ship after that. Instead, he was combing his network for someone else he might try to send after the good doctor. He knew Max would not risk another one of her people.
He debated on whether he should tell her Alec's fate instantly, but he knew she would want more answers than simply that he didn't arrive. So, after several days of waiting, he finally got the briefing from a contact with an in at Japanese Naval Intelligence. Once he had that, he sat in his office for a long time, planning how to break the news to Max. He was going to promise to find another way to get to Brezhenski and was about to say so when the haunted look on her face halted him. He realized she hadn't asked about the doctor or whether she might still be able to help them. She'd only asked about one thing: Alec. Now, she was asking, in a saddened and shock filled voice, about how to let others know he was gone.
Max blinked unseeingly for a few moments as the awful reality of Logan's news crashed over her. It didn't feel real. She didn't want to believe it and if she didn't, could she share it with others and tell them simply to move on? No, in truth, she didn't want to tell them at all. It felt like defeat or a cruel punishment for those who already had very little they could point to and say that's why they were hanging in there. However, not telling them, withholding information they would want to know, of course, would feel like lying. They'd lost comrades in the field before; they had buried a few of their own just since retreating to the sanctuary of TC. But telling them that Alec was gone would deliver a nasty blow. Their charming chatterbox was now silent. Forever.
"The reports state the ship sunk, and there was nothing found?" she asked, forcing her mind back to the conversation and how she would disseminate the information to her colleagues.
"Yeah," Logan said as he looked over the report in front of him again. "Reports of a massive fireball on the water in the vicinity of the mayday coordinates summoned the naval vessels to investigate. They found a debris field only. What they did find they confirmed belonged to The Temptress."
"Belonged to who?" Max asked, pulled out of her fog by the word. Logan repeated himself helpfully. "You put Alec on a boat packed with explosives and it was called The Temptress?"
She laughed, suddenly an painfully for a moment as she rubbing her shaking hands over her face.
"Yeah," Logan nodded, seeing the irony in it. "In retrospect, it does make me question the possibilities of Fate. You okay?"
Max cocked her head to the side and leveled him with a disgusted glare. It let him know she was not interested in support or sympathy right now. She wanted answers, better ones than she was getting. She also needed a plan for how to proceed. She exhaled slowly, the weariness in her face and body obvious as she fixed her all-business expression on the monitor.
"So, lost and presumed dead but no body found," she nodded. "That's accurate?"
"Yeah, and a little misleading," Logan offered. "False hope isn't really hope, Max. Softening the blow is… not really your style. What's going on?"
"I'm only dealing with facts right now," she said with a shrug. "Look, we don't know he's actually dead. Yes, it is a high possibility the crew was all lost, but Alec wasn't like the rest of that crew."
"Agreed, but there was evidence of a firefight that resulted in the ship either being scuttled or accidentally blowing up then sunk," Logan asserted. "This does not have a happy ending, Max."
"Doesn't have to be an ending at all; Alec is good with weapons," she argued. "We don't know what happened other than that sorry bucket of rust and rivets is on the ocean floor right now. For all we know, Alec stowed away on the ship that attacked or maybe he commandeered it for himself. He could steal a ship, Logan. Trust me."
There was a hint of anger in her voice, as if she was scolding Alec for doing just that. Logan heard the desperation in her voice and wanted so badly to go to her, to hug her and tell her he was sorry for her loss, but he couldn't. First, the virus prevented anything resembling physical comfort and support. Next, getting through the sectors and into TC was not usually an easy matter. The distant look in Max's eyes told him there was a chance she wouldn't permit her perimeter security to allow him entrance today.
"Then why didn't he make it to my contact at the harbor in Vladivostok?" he asked, trying to get her to see reason. "He's gone, Max. You need to accept that. I know Alec was your… colleague. He was… I kind of liked him, too… a bit… sometimes. I certainly respect and appreciate that he was trying to help us. It makes his death honorable. Guess maybe there was something noble in a guy with jackal DNA after all."
The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Even he heard the backhanded compliment for what it was: a slight to the fallen soldier. Logan shook his head. He was tired and disappointed, too. He looked at Max on the cyber feed and felt the dagger sharp cut of her expression.
"Nobility isn't a genetic gift, Logan," she said coldly. "It's a choice that a human being makes."
Sometimes, Logan thought, but decided not to say it. From the slight curl he spotted on Max's lip, she was thinking along the same lines, although hers was probably less of an editorial and more of a fond memory for her lost comrade.
Alec as a memory, Logan sighed. That, like the rosy colored reminisces of the past people conjured, could be hard to compete with. Not that he felt he needed to compete with Alec. Yes, the guy was childishly charming and considered good looking, but he was also troublemaker, a schemer and had the morals of an alley cat when it came to women. Why women were attracted to that remained a mystery to him. The appeal of the bad boy image was lost on Logan. He shook his head. Alec, his ghost, his memory, had the possibility of growing into a saint. That, he knew, would be difficult to live with.
But what did it matter? If they never found the cure, he could never be with Max anyway. He wouldn't need the too fondly remembered image of Alec to block his happiness.
"I didn't mean that like it sounded," he began, but she never heard his words as she cut the link and stalked away from her computer.
Logan stared at the blank screen then cursed loudly. The sonofabitch was dead and still Alec was causing problems.
# # # #
"I told you it was a bad idea," Mole growled as he loomed in the doorway to Max's office later that afternoon. "Went and got his ass turned into fish food for your Ordinary's compromised immune system. I'll probably crack open a tin of anchovies in six months and find his damn finger in it."
He snuffed his displeasure at the thought, although whether it was at finding a bit of Alec ruining his rations or the thought that he was dead, Max did not know.
"Of course, this is all the word of your loverboy's truth and consequences network?" Mole continued. "You sure it's accurate?"
"I trust Logan," she said firmly.
"Not what I asked," Mole growled. "You trust everyone who gives him information? Wait, you must, you let Alec go on this bullshit adventure based on his intel web."
"Nobody let Alec do anything," she said. "He does… did… whatever he wanted. Always."
"You could have stopped him," Mole growled.
"How?" she sneered. "Ordering him not to go?"
"No, asking him not to go," Mole countered. "You've known the guy for what? A year? I've known him a few weeks. Guess what I figured out? He doesn't like taking or following fucking orders. Know what he does do? Takes fucking requests. You ask him for something and its within his power and abilities, he'll do. Tell him to do it and you're shit out of luck. Hell of a leader you're turning into if you didn't know that about the guy you've known the longest here."
Max glared back at the reptilian warrior. She considered defending herself but opted not to; Mole was just lashing out, reacting to the news in the only way he knew how: fighting. She was trying to think of how to move this discussion along when the sounds of a stifled sniff drew her attention.
CeCe leaned on the wall to her left. Her head was cast downward and her shoulders drooped.
"It's not Max's fault," she said then turned an icy gaze on Mole. "You wanna run this joint then challenge her to a fight outside. You wanna be a cold blooded bastard who second guesses everything after the fact, go find another audience."
"Sweetheart, we're all bastards," he sneered. "Daddy was a syringe, or did that slip your mind?"
"Enough," Max said with a tired sigh. Bickering wasn't going to help or change anything.
"Well," Mole said, relaxing his posture and throwing a sour expression at both of them, "just do me a favor, don't plan any Ops for me based solely on intel that Ordinary brings us. I ain't afraid to die, but I'd like it to at least be for something that matters, like our freedom or a chance to see and smell the inside of a Waffle House."
The transhuman scoffed and scuffed his feet as he pulled a half-smoked cigar out of his pocket. He chewed the end for a moment then spit on her floor before walking dejectedly out of the office.
The others in the room, CeCe and Bullet and Joshua remained silently for several moments. The two X-series soldiers eventually drifted away behind Mole, sullen and expressionless. Max had called them to her office to give them the barebones update on Alec's presumed fate. She did not say he was dead, only that he was missing and presumed dead. It made a difference to her. After all, she had been missing and presumed dead once as well. Logan didn't know if she was alive at the time, but he always said he felt it, in his gut, that she wasn't gone. Max wasn't sure how she felt at that moment, but she knew Logan never fully gave up on her. She came back to him then… in part because of Alec. In larger part, because of the transhuman sitting beside her desk, holding his heavy, hairy head in his long arms.
"Joshua?" Max said tenderly. "Are you alright, Big Fellah?"
"Not alright, Little Fellah," he whispered and sniffled. "Alec missing. Maybe hurt. We looking?"
"No," she said sorrowfully then shook her head slowly as she stroked his arm gently. "It happened so far away. We can't look. Logan said the Japanese boats couldn't find anything. There's nothing more we can do."
"Alec swim," Joshua nodded. "Boat sink; maybe Alec swim away."
Max sighed and swallowed hard. Telling Joshua was almost harder than hearing the news the first time herself. Joshua saw Alec differently than others. That was due in part to Joshua's view of the world. He could see people for who they were inside rather than what their actions and reactions outside appeared to be. He was wise to Alec's hustles and scams, but he let them spin around him and (sometimes) out of control in the hope that Alec would learn a lesson. He often did, though sometimes not until it was nearly too late. He trusted Alec and cared for him. Joshua was the one who showed Max there was something behind Alec's bluster and man-with-a-plan bravado. The artist in him could see the darkness, the pain in him, left by the scars Manticore inflicted on his soul. The night of Joshua's first (and to date only) dinner party, he was the one who did not find it odd that there was powerful and beautiful concert piano music coming from the basement. He had never heard Alec play until that moment, but it did not surprise him Alec could do so. He sensed a lot of hidden things in Alec, and those reflected in the abstract painting he did of his friend.
"I wish that happened, too," Max said truthfully while offering him a soothing tone, "but I don't think it did."
"Logan ask his contacts?" Joshua asked. "They look for Alec?"
"I guess," she shrugged. She really didn't know if he followed up with them once being informed their operative was no longer going to make it into the foreign country.
"Ask Logan," Joshua nodded, tears streaking down his face and wetting the ends of his long mane of hair. "Maybe Alec swim away. Working on mission now. Come home with answers so Max and Logan get busy."
Max sighed and moved closer to her friend. She stood up and held his shaking head as he cried into her shoulder. He whined softly for several minutes as the pain of the loss echoed in his mind and heart. After a moment, he looked up at her with dark, moist eyes.
"Alec never say goodbye to Joshua," he whimpered.
"Me, either," she shook her head as she pet his hair comfortingly. "He just left."
"Maybe because he not gone forever," he offered hopefully. "No goodbyes if not really leaving."
Max sighed.
# # # #
Max dragged herself from her office and across the compound. Her quarters were at the far west corner of Building Four. It was a small room that had been an office at one point. There was one, cracked window in the middle of the main wall. She could have a snagged bigger and more accommodating location, but it didn't seem right or necessary. First off, she was in charge. There was no reason not lord over the embattled troops from a sweet suite that had perks they didn't have. Next, she didn't sleep much normally. Why would she want a larger space to do nothing more than stare at the walls and wait for the next problem to arrive?
Alec, of course, was of a different mentality. On day one, probably within the first hour, he snagged himself a suite—two rooms and a private bath. By some miracle their engineering crew fixed his plumbing in the first few days so that it was operational while so many others were stuck using the former public rest rooms on the main floors and the gang style showers in the lab areas that were once used for decontamination procedures. Max fought with him about this and the only concession she got was an offer to use the group showers if he could schedule his time there based on who else was using it. From the leer he offered to a trio of passing, bright eyed X5 females who blushed at his wink, she was certain he would be putting up a sign up sheet for showering on his door that afternoon. All in all, she reasoned, there would be less trouble if she let him keep his private accommodations. Whoever he invited there would be a problem for another day. Preventing afternoon orgies in their main shower area was not a priority she anticipated when the siege began, but as Alec was so fond of pointing out: The burden of command meant you had to deal with things on the fly sometimes.
So, he kept his private bath and he didn't start a harem, one that would likely turn on him within a week, if his track record was any indication. Thinking back to that, Max chuckled painfully for a moment then winced in pain.
It was recalling the mischievous look in his bright green eyes that set her off. They were expressive eyes that told you much more about him than his mouth ever would—well, more truthful things about him at least. They were stunning eyes to boot. His long, thick, dark lashes accented the beautiful and inviting irises as if they were specifically designed that way, which, considering his origins, they likely were. She wondered again at the mind behind the creation. Did Sandeman, or one of his lab assistants, really sit down one day and say: I'm gonna mix me up a playboy cocktail? Max felt sure that whoever it was that cooked up Alec must have been a woman. Whether it was Ben's sensitive nature in childhood or Alec's preening peacock strut, he was engineered to attract women.
That, Max knew, was a great skill for covert operations. Women could be wooed and made very useful. Men, too, if needed. She smirked painfully at the thought of Alec being sent on such a mission. He had suffered under Normal's twisted fascination and admiration. However, Alec had also used those gifts, showing he knew how to manipulate using that attracting force. Other men, like Logan, were repelled by Alec. Whether that was something primal in all of them, a resistance straight out of the brain stem, or simply a socialization quirk that didn't like too many cocks in the hen house, she didn't know.
Logan's objections to Alec were mostly based in morals. He felt Alec had none. Logan was wrong, Max knew. It was that Alec could ignore his if it would help satisfy a need or an urge he wanted fulfilled. Other men, she noted, did not react quite the same to Alec. Sketchy, straight and in his own mind a player as well, befriended Alec. That was the other benefit to being an alpha male. Others, who were not alphas, were likely to follow and assist in the hopes of riding the coattails.
Max sighed, feeling that cold knot in her chest tighten as she recalled nights at Crash. Watching Sketchy get beaten, yet again, at pool by Alec. Logan beat him once, she recalled. It seemed odd that he had. Alec's superior dexterity, control and eyesight should have given him the clear advantage. But whenever Logan and Alec went head to head, things got odd. Logan, the smartest man Max knew, could be easily ruffled by Alec. Logan was a confident man, Eyes Only himself, who did not need to prove he was brave or righteous. Yet throw Alec into the room and Logan would become sullen and snappish. There were moments when it felt like he might sudden drop trow and start marking territory to prevent Alec from claiming it for himself. It was as though Logan felt threatened and inferior, somehow less of a man, in Alec's presence. That was why Logan freaked when he spied Alec with her that morning after he got released from the hospital. It was also why she let him continue to think she and Alec were a couple for she hoped it would drive him away quicker.
Alec had known it too and been hurt by her decision. He didn't like being used that way, set up like a poor stereotype in her shattered romance saga with Logan. She saw the hurt in his limpid eyes, and it bothered her. Alec played people all the time. He would string along two girls at once for his own pleasure. Why did he care if Max made it seem like she was dating him simply to anger Logan into turning on her? What did he care? His image was already that of a cad.
She suspected now, after hearing from Joshua, that it was because Alec felt it was a reflection of what she thought of him. They never got a chance to talk it; they were under siege too quickly and then he was gone. They never talked about much, she realized, until the night she spoke to him about his twin brother, Ben. Remembering it, the knot in her chest twisted again and made her shiver deep in her gut. They were both gone now. She didn't think it possible until that moment, but of the two, she missed Alec more. She knew Ben longer, missed him and wondered about his fate longer, but Alec… he meant more to her in the end.
The silence of the room pressed in on her ears and make her feel jittery. Night was always the worst time at TC. At least, lately. During the first few weeks, it was the tensest time for certain. They never knew if the military or White or the sector police were going to stage an incursion. They were on guard and on edge in those dark hours. But that was a feeling they understood. They were trained for that sort of thing. She recalled walking through the complex, keeping to the shadow to observe the hidden sentries at their posts and admiring their rigid composure as they stood watch.
She usually encountered Alec during her excursions. Experienced in recon, he usually could be found in one of the high nooks of the cavernous buildings facing a soft and valuable entry point—a likely spot for their enemies to exploit. Unlike the others, however, he would rest in his perch, loose-limbed and relaxed. It was as if the nearly unbearable tension of their predicament meant nothing to him.
"Do you take anything seriously?" she asked, stalking up behind him. Whether he knew of her approach or not, she did not learn. He did not jump when she spoke, but she knew that could also be from decades of training.
"Sex, money, fresh apples and windswept white sand beaches," he answered quietly while sporting and easy and contented grin.
"Yeah," she had shaken her head. "I don't get your thing for apples."
He shrugged and continued to survey the area, his legs dangling from the rafter that was his lookout spot. Max had sat beside him in companionable silence, feeling no need to speak and finding it slightly odd that neither did he. He cast her a glance several times as his eyes randomly roamed across his field of view. It was a heavy, blazing gaze that she could feel sliding across her face, her neck and the rest of her body.
She would never see it again, she realized with a sudden feeling of choking terror. The pain was as sharp as it was without warning. She jumped to her feet as if shocked by electricity. Her feet propelled her out of her room and up to the top floor. She padded softly and quickly along the quiet corridors until arriving in the corner room.
Max turned the handle on the door, and it swung inward with a hush. The room was dark and devoid of life. She stepped over the threshold and quietly latched the door behind her. At first glance, it was a small sitting room with a small couch and battered coffee table that some fool rich trend-setting would probable pay 50 times what it cost when it was thrown together initially. Her enhanced eyesight could see the scuff marks from the boots that had once rested there when the man who used to call this room home would sit on the couch and watch his prized possession. She turned and faced the metal cabinet that housed the precious object. Peaking inside, she saw the TV, screen now dark and collecting dust. No one had been in this room for several weeks. She wouldn't permit it.
She issued that edict two days after Alec departed upon finding several of the X6 generation piling in there during their off hours. She didn't want the room to become a haven for those who were hiding from or shirking their duties; it was bad enough the one who called the place home used it for that. She also didn't think it appropriate for people to invade his space. Alec himself was not precisely respectful of people's property. He was an expert thief who took what he wanted when he needed it, but that didn't mean others should follow his example. If there was one thing Max would have at TC, it would be trust among the residents. They needed to know they could rely on each other. Respecting their personal space, their individual belongs and rituals, was part of proving they were just as civilized and human as the Ordinaries outside the fence.
There was another reason, of course, why she didn't want anyone in Alec's quarters. It just felt wrong. This was his sanctuary. She found him here often, yelled at him for being there or whatever he was doing there in the process usually, but it was a place that suited him. He found some peace in this space and that, she admitted to herself, mattered to her. Now, looking around the dark and quiet room, she felt the knots in her chest begin to ache as a cold chill, like the ghostly hands of a lost lover, caressed her neck.
She looked around the room with a haunted expression. There was nothing truly of Alec in there.
She went into his bedroom and snapped on the light. The bed was made. The footlocker at the bottom of the bed was open and empty. She pulled open the drawers of the small dresser. Very little remained in them. Several T-shirts, a couple pairs of socks and a fraying hoodie.
She lifted one of the T-shirts and held it to her face. She inhaled the fading scent of him, a balance between a slightly sweet and slightly musky essence. The feeling it conjured was so overwhelming her eyes and mouth went dry as if it was siphoning the life out of her. The muscles in her neck seized as her throat knotted viciously with sorrow. She dropped the garment back into the drawer then leaned heavily on the dresser, bowing her head, waiting but knowing no tears would come. Instead, the pain they were supposed to wash away would remain in her, like poison, eating at her slowly and eroding her already scarred soul.
"Damn you, Alec," she whispered in a cracking voice.
# # # #
The noise in the bar was high but not so high to prevent talking. Max sat in a chair, staring at the array of empty glasses on the table. Damn that increased metabolism, she thought. Can't even get drunk to numb myself when I want it.
Her companion for the evening was telling her about her recent run ins at their former favorite watering hole. Original Cindy, her hair teased and tied up tonight, was rolling out the story with a displeased tone that echoed of her continuing disgust with the male population.
"So then he get all coolio actin' like he think I'm jonesing for his ounce of lovin'," OC said splaying her fingers and rocking he neck side to side exaggeratedly. "I'm like, whachu thinkin' you sad excuse for a Dexter. I don't play for your team. Then he's all like…"
She paused and looked at her friend with a concerned expression as she realized Max was staring back at her with glassy eyes. The tears were pooled up at her lower lids and being held back through her sheer force of will.
"Boo, what's wrong?" she asked quietly.
She could barely give the answer. Saying even the word was painful, but at least away from TC, she could let some of her raw feelings show (to OC anyway)
"Alec," Max answered painfully and simply in an equally low tone.
"What that hard-up fool gone and done now?" OC asked flatly. "You need me to smack him into next Sunday for you? Don't he know you all on the brink of war? He playing hide the salami with your alpha girls gettin' them all riled up and ready to throw down with each other over his tight but sorry ass?"
Max smirked at the question. What she wouldn't give for that to be the problem.
"No," Max said and looked at the table. "He's gone. Dead."
"What?" OC gasped and grabbed Max's hand.
The care giving touch was almost more than Max could take. She pulled her hand back and folded her arms tightly around her then welded her eyes shut for a moment as she drew a deep, controlled breath. At Manticore, they taught you to hide the weaker emotions, sadness and emotional pain. They drilled breathing techniques into them; trained them to push all those feelings into a small, escape-proof box deep in their minds. Sadness, like mercy, was for the weak.
"Oh, girl," OC sighed and moved to the other side of the table and put her arm around Max.
As soon as she did so, a blond with high cheek bones and a slight scruff on his cheeks slid into her empty chair.
"I have been watching you beauties for half an hour," he said and grinned at them, showing off a jewel drilled smile. "It's official. You ladies are too fine looking to be left all alone."
OC's head swiveled sideways and her chin hung down in disgust as rage burned behind her dark, wide-set eyes.
"Boy, can't you see I's about to put the moves on my honey?" OC snapped. "Don't be interrupting my action. Go find some fool straight girl who wants to choke on your nasty-assed bedazzeled dentures!"
The man shirked and surprise, turned red with embarrassment and ducked away from the table. With her heavily heeled foot, Cindy shoved the chair her occupied to the next table and returned her attention to Max, who was no longer on the verge of tears. She grinned at OC with her mouth, but the pain in her eyes still betrayed her.
"I don't understand; there was nothing on the news or from Eyes Only," she said quietly, stroking Max's arm. "What happened?"
Max slowly explained about the mission and the news Logan brought a week earlier. She hadn't really slept since she found out—not that she was sleeping much before either. She tried to rest, but all she would do was stare at the cracked, water stained ceiling in her quarters. She didn't have any real thoughts in those moments. She didn't feel any tears in her eyes. She felt nothing, which was somehow worse and more exhausting. It was as if losing Alec robbed her of what little emotions she possessed. Until that afternoon.
As if sensing she was still experiencing the numbness and shock of it all, Joshua left her a gift in her office. It was his portrait of Alec. She looked at the massive dark splotch that engulfed most of the canvas then her eyes were drawn to the dizzying array of bright and beautiful colors surrounding it. Dark on the inside, pretty colors on the outside, like camouflage, Joshua had explained. A dark and painful secret buried deep with a lovely and lively façade to cover it all. If Joshua had not told her the description was that of Alec, she would have been sure he was speaking about her.
She stared at the picture for a while, standing up eventually and touching the canvas. It was deeply textured with many layers of colors. Even the black abyss wasn't a simple stain on the surface. It was a thick stratum of different grades of darkness, different grains and qualities. It was rough and yet smooth; it was shiny and fluid, yet it was also scuffed and dull. It was perfectly simple and horribly complicated. It was hideous when looked at in individual quadrants and breathtakingly beautiful when viewed as a whole picture. It was maddeningly chaotic and fractured and yet it gave her a sense of calm for it came together so seamlessly for what it was: a brilliant and stunning work of art.
It was flawed and frustrating; sensual and seductive; dangerous and delightful; primal and (in its own way) perfect. It was Alec.
Running her fingers gingerly over the image, both the pretty and foreboding parts, had raised a lump in her throat and shivers in her muscles. She felt weary and antsy. She hadn't left the TC in weeks, but she couldn't take it, not another second. She barked a basic command at the first person in the command post she saw, then left word she was going out to breathe some less toxic air. The hiss in her voice and the fierce glint in her eye did not encourage anyone to question her. She left the compound through the sewers then made her way to a bar several blocks from their former watering hole, Crash. She wore her hair down, her hat low and her tinted motorcycle glasses to do something of a disguise. No one in the bar looked at her long, especially after her "girlfriend" arrived following a quick call to summon Original Cindy.
"That's a damn shame," OC said sullenly when Max finished telling her the news. "I'd like to slap that boy silly more often than not, but even I'd have enjoyed it a bit—and he'd have enjoyed it more."
She winked at Max, who offered a sad grin and agreeing nod.
"You feeling more than just sorrow over losing someone you knew?" OC asked. Max looked at her blankly. "Don't give me no vacant stare, girl. He wasn't just one of your old class mates from the school of Hell's Hardest Knocks. That boy got to you on the inside; has me wondering if you wanted to have an actual piece of him banging around in there as well."
"What?" Max shook her head. "No. Alec was a pain." The word "was" cut into her throat. It felt sour coming off her tongue.
"There's being a pain and causing a pain," OC assessed. "You know what I'm saying? Which was he? Be honest with Original Cin, girl, he gave you a precious ache."
"I don't know what you mean," Max shook her head.
"Please," OC scoffed. "Always hanging around; always givin' you the fits. Always jiving you and winding you up like his favorite toy. He wanted to get down wi'chu, and you know it. Did you wanna take him up on that offer or not?"
"Alec wanted to sleep with most women he met," Max said. "Logan always says he has… had the morals of an alley cat."
"Well, Logan was jealous of him, but we ain't talkin' about yo' man in waiting," OC continued. "I's askin' you 'bout yo' man in the middle. In the middle of all that trouble that kept you on your toes, in the middle of yo' work at Jam Pony, in the middle of yo' problems with those of us without any special juices. You mean to tell me you never even considered…"
The noise in the bar was sufficiently high that no one was paying attention to them. Max's hyper-alert senses were scanning the room for anyone too closely focused on them. Most were drinking themselves happily into oblivion, watching the rigged game of pool on the side of the room or keeping an eye on the scantily clad dancers who were grooving on the bar top. Sitting here in the open, surrounded by a room of ignorant Ordinaries, she felt safely hidden from the world that wanted her dead.
"Alec was in the middle of a lot of things," Max said evasively.
"Like yo' dreams?" OC asked boldly. Max fired a confused look back at her friend. "Hey, even OC has had a sweaty flash during her nocturnals about that boy. I don't have to seriously want to play with the equipment to admire how fine it looked put together in that pretty package."
Max said nothing. A dream about Alec? No, she'd never had one. Then again, dreaming wasn't something she did often. Not sleeping often pretty much guaranteed that. She wasn't sure her dreams would be pleasant anyway.
"Joshua is torn up about it," Max said after a moment. "He cries himself to sleep."
"They were friends," OC said tenderly. She rubbed Max's arm. "You all cared about Alec, which tells you how special he was, especially considering how hard to tried to make sure none of you did."
"I don't think Alec put a lot of effort into caring or trying to change what anyone thought of him," Max said.
OC quickly scoffed.
"He sure did try and catch your eye when he could," she replied. "Boo, I can't count the times he sat that tight, little ass of his in a chair next to me and watched you across a room, flicking those green eyes up like a laser trying to read your mind or catch you looking his way. I mean, seriously, what's a boy that much on the prowl gonna hope to bag hanging out in the same sorry bar where all his co-workers hang? He could get into any joint in this town, but he went to Crash. You know why."
"He was friends with Sketchy and…," Max began but OC's flat stare stopped her. "He took Normal to a strip club once."
"As part of some scheme, no doubt," OC said sourly. "Tell me you are just playing this clueless because you're in shock. Girl, that boy wanted you; he wanted to dip his fries in your extra special sauce and you know it. He wanted you from the moment he met you. Wanted you even more each day he couldn't have you. Considering how you and Logan need to keep an entire sector between the two of you, I'm surprised you didn't order up a little Alec take out and have a taste to find out if you liked his flavor."
Max shook her head at the thought. It was never as simple as OC made it sound. Yes, Alec liked a conquest and a challenge, but he never seriously hit on her. He did so in glib remarks and obviously sarcastic overtures prompted by his extreme arrogance that no woman could seriously resist him. But he never truly turned that cunning and seductive charm on her. He knew he never had a chance with her because she simply wasn't going to be interested. Her heart belonged to someone else. Had since before she met Alec. Then he died trying to help her get that man truly into her life. Why did he do that, she wondered for the countless time.
She considered asking OC her thoughts on it, but before she could find the words, another unexpected face appeared at their table. His blond hair was unkempt and sticking out at all angles. He wore a pair of goggles on his head and faded T-shirt sporting a large coffee stain. His fair skin was glistening with either sweat or rain from outside.
"Ha, this is great!" Sketchy said loudly, then lowered his tone as OC's heel collided with his shin. "Sorry. I'm just… I was looking for you, OC. I never expected to find…."
"On the DL, Sketch," Max said lowly. "No photos and no attention. I'm no one, and I'm not here. Got that?"
"Okay," he nodded as he squatted by the table. "It's just… this is like kismet. I just got a scoop."
"Of what?" OC said and sniffed the air around him. "Something a dog left on the street? Man, you reek like a bloated sewer rat."
"The docks, actually," Sketchy said. "I'm stringing for the Weekly World News still and… I met this guy and he told me something that I think you can maybe help me with, Max."
"I'm not letting you interview me," she said and made moves to leave.
"No, not like that," he said holding up is hands to halt her. "You'll be my deep throat."
"She ain't gonna let you do that to her either," OC said sourly.
"My undercover informant who can simply confirm or deny a rumor," Sketchy explained exasperatedly. "No quotes. No mentioning where I got the info from. I just need to know: Did your lab have a set up in another country? Like maybe Japan or China or Russia?"
"I don't know," Max shook her head slowly. "Why?"
"You gonna try to put together the family tree of her foreign cousins or are you looking for a far off, extra exotic long distance love connection?" OC inquired and leveled a displeased stare at him.
"Neither," he said, waving Max back into her seat. "I met this guy, he works on a fishing boat, one of those big trawlers that goes to Alaska for crabs and also smuggles in Chinese who haven't heard our country is broke. Anyway, we were talking and he was asking about the, you know…"
Sketchy looked at Max and nodded leadingly. She sighed and shook her head. She made a movement with her hands for him to continue.
"Well, the guy's been on a boat at sea for months," he continued. "They put into ports all over the Pacific so news gets to them pretty slow. I told him who I work for, and he got all excited. Said he had a scoop for me if I believe in those stories about… mutant… uh… different folks."
When neither Max nor OC hit him for saying the word mutant, he leaned in and rubbed his hands eagerly. The women exchanged and exasperated look then leaned across the table to listen while wearing flat expressions.
"A merman," Sketchy whispered and practically giggled with delight. "One of your kind, maybe, well, not your kind, not exactly, but like a cousin, maybe right?"
"What are you talking about?" OC asked and raised her hand to slap him if the urge grew any stronger.
"Okay, so get this, this guy I met was at some port off Ussuri Bay when he's looking over the side of the boat in the harbor and he sees the impossible," Sketchy said with an eager smile. "A man, swimming, well drafting his vessel. Guy is under the water, holding on to something, letting the boat pull him along. My guy said they were moving at a pretty good clip and the merman stayed under for like eight minutes before breaking the surface and going under again. He said he saw it happen like five times. He couldn't believe his eyes, but he got a picture of the creature even. If I give him $500, he'll give it to me and his story. Sounds crazy, right, except…"
Max cut him off before he could continue.
"Wait," she interrupted. "Ussuri Bay? Off Russia? Near Vladivostok?"
"I don't know; I guess," Sketchy shrugged and nodded.
"When?" she demanded.
"I don't know" he shook his head. "We didn't get into a lot of details yet because I didn't have the money on me. Look, is this guy on the level? You have mermaids or mermen in your family tree?"
"Boo ain't related to no fish," OC said quickly. "Sounds like you got played. Good thing you didn't hand over your cash."
"I don't know," Sketchy shook his head. "He seemed legit, so I thought I'd do a little fact checking. Guys over at Crash said they saw you, OC, duck in here earlier. I was going to ask you to get word to you, Max. So, tell me: Did you guys have satellite offices in other locations?"
"I need to see this picture, Sketchy," Max said quickly. "You gotta pay the guy and get it for me. Tonight. Like, now."
# # # #
Logan squinted hard under the light at his desk while Max paced in front of him. His now destroyed penthouse had better lighting and equipment, but she felt safer, more grounded here in Joshua's old house. She walked back and forth as she cast her eyes at the couch with its rumbled blankets. She had woken Logan not long after Sketchy gave her the picture and the recording of his brief interview. He wasn't happy to turn over his scoop, but her hand around his throat was sufficient persuasion to give her the information.
"Well?" she asked after several trying minutes.
"I don't know," Logan said holding the poor photo under a magnifying glass. "I don't really have the equipment here to analyze this. I see a pale, sort of oblong shape against a dark wall, sort of."
"The dark plane on the left is the hull of the ship," she said snatching the picture from his fingers and holding it up while she pointed at it. "This field here is obviously water."
"Obviously?" he repeated. "It's a blob of black, just like the thing you think is the side of the boat."
"They're different," she said firmly. Her enhanced eyesight clearly saw the differences. "The hull is solid. The water is mildly opaque. I can see the differences. This shape here, this…"
"Blur or lens flare?" he offered with a yawn as he pushed back his wheelchair from the desk.
"It's a man, Logan," she said. "That line right there is clearly an arm. I can see the side of a head and an ear."
"I don't see it, Max," he replied.
"I do!" she snapped. "Logan, trust me. I can see it. It's a man. Now, how many men do you know could hang onto the side of a steaming ship and keep under water most of the time?"
"Manticore did produce some trangenics who were aquatic based," he reminded her. "You met two of them. Maybe this is…"
"He's wearing clothing, and he's not exactly swimming," Max pointed again at the details of the photo she felt were obvious. "He's tagging along, just hitching a ride. Look, this is Alec. It's gotta be. I'm telling you Logan, he got off that ship, The Temptress, alive. He survived the sinking and the explosion. This picture was taken two days later, 40 miles away, while the Japanese were searching the mayday coordinates. Of course they wouldn't have found Alec there! He got his ass out of the area as soon as he could."
Logan sighed and looked at her with pity. She was grasping at straws and her adamancy both worried and soothed him. He was pleased because she appeared to finally be reacting to the news he dropped on her a week earlier. He was worried the denial would never end and, coupled with the pressure of command and the prolonged siege without any noticeable progress, would finally do what Manticore had not: break her. This was a good sign—evidence the grieving process was taking place in part somewhere deep within her. She was fighting letting Alec go, but on some level her mind knew it had to happen. What concerned Logan was the vigor in her assertion that this grainy and blurry photo was solid evidence. She was fighting the urge to let Alec go too hard and was throwing herself willingly into the realm of fantasy. The lost soldier's hold on her seemed most strong at that moment. Logan's gut twisted with a knot of jealousy, but he kept it down, reminding himself that Max had been through a lot. She would grasp on with her mighty strength to any shred of hope she could find at this point, about anything that she feared her kind had lost.
"Max, I think you know, it's unlikely that…," Logan began.
"Did you ask your contacts about him?" she demanded, remembering Joshua's plea from a week earlier.
"Ask them what?" he wondered, rolling is chair back toward the couch where he had been sleeping until woke him by snapping on the lights without warning and her shoving the photo in his face. "Max, I got a report from the harbor that the ship never arrived. I got the information that the Japanese search crews found nothing but sonar showed the ship, what was left of it, was on the bottom. What could my contacts hundreds of miles from that spot possibly tell me?"
"Whether Alec showed up and started looking for the doctor," she said flatly.
The irritated expression on her face screamed that she wanted to punctuate the statement with the word "dumb ass" but he knew she wouldn't. She saved that level of bitchiness only for Alec usually. Then again, Logan sighed, he felt a bit like Alec's surrogate lately. The anger she normally vented on and about him seemed to be directed Logan's way more often than not, except he heard a different tone in her voice and thought he saw a different, harder, glint in her eyes with him than he ever observed toward Alec. Her anger with Logan felt cold; her frequent displeasure toward Alec had always pulsed much hotter.
"Fine," he relented with a shrug. "I'll reach out, see what they say. Don't get your hopes up, Max. You've been through enough. I don't like seeing you hurt yourself over and over like this."
She regarded him with softer eyes. His care and concern were obvious. He was worried about her. She knew he wanted to be there for her, to comfort her, take the pain away, but he couldn't. A terrorist that lived in and under her skin prevented it. She had been so focused on losing and then, possibly, finding Alec that she had forgotten what Logan had riding on this mission. He loved her and that feeling could kill him.
"Sorry," she said, slouching to the opposite side of the room. "I just think this is something we should look into. No harm in just asking, right? I mean, you had no reason to believe I survived the mission to Manitcore, right? Did that stop you?"
"No, because… because I love you and I didn't want to believe you were gone," Logan said calmly.
"Well, I don't think Alec's gone either," she shrugged, avoiding why she thought that as she wasn't entirely sure herself. "I just think we owe it to him to check."
"Owe it to him?" Logan repeated. "Since when do we owe Alec anything?"
"Fine, I owe it to him," she said sourly.
"You don't owe him either, Max," Logan assured her. "I get that you're still feeling grief and some shock over his loss. You've been through a lot in the last few months, so I understand. But at least be honest. If anyone is in debt here, it's Alec. He took this job to try and get out of your debt."
"I really don't know why he took it," she said. "I know what he said, but with Alec…"
"What he said and what he actually meant isn't always the same, yeah," Logan nodded. "I know. I've met him."
Max turned and impassive expression his way. She was tired but still felt a surge of energy. Sketchy's tip for a story had revived her but had demonstrated to her how weary she truly was. Logan wasn't buying her theory, but the photo was hard proof for her. No, she couldn't see the swimmer's face, but was a swimmer. That was a man. So unless that freighter snagged another pale faced body in the middle of the open sea within a day or two of Alec's ship going down and that body had the strength and ability to hold on and stay submerged for minutes at a time in frigid waters, this was hard evidence. Alec, she was certain, at least made it off his doomed vessel alive.
"I should go," she said jerking her head toward the door. "Let me know if your contacts have anything?"
"Sure," Logan nodded as he rubbed his stubbly chin. "May not hear anything right off. They're not always easy to catch up with, plus the time difference and all. I'll… come by?"
"Sounds good," she bobbed her head then ducked into the dark hallway and out the front door.
# # # #
Four days later, Logan was led by two pre-teen boys with identical faces and blackened eyes down a dank tunnel that led from, of all places, the sandwich shop behind City Hall, to the farthest corner of TC. He was learning that there were a myriad of ways into the complex, long forgotten drainage and sewer passes, electric conduits for lines the that fried during the Pulse and were no longer considered viable, the labyrinth of exploratory shafts for what was going to be a network of natural gas lines and a subway system, all that went nowhere when the economy took a dirt nap.
He didn't know that he could find his way back to TC without the help of his unspeaking guides. They were clones, he knew that much, and communicated ultrasonically making the journey confusing and quiet. Once within the perimeter, he was handed over to two transgenics, only one that he recognized: CeCe.
"Hey," he said, glad for the familiar face. "How's… everything?"
"We're still here," she nodded affably. "Max got your message and told me to bring you straight to her office. Something up?"
Logan hesitated. He didn't know what information Max disseminated . He didn't want to mess with her delicate balance of power and wasn't sure what he was permitted say. Instead, he shrugged and sort of chuckled.
"Usually," he offered unhelpfully.
The blond transgenic looked at him coldly. Logan gazed back without antagonism and, he hoped, without fear in his face. He never knew what the mood might be toward Ordinaries when he arrived. Not all those who called TC home were as friendly to those outside the wire as Max could be. Some were outright hostile—like the lizard hybrid, Mole, who would rather waste anyone with run of the mill DNA than let them look cross-eyed at him. Logan understood it was a survival instinct; Max certainly had her hands full trying to keep everyone inside and outside the TC to remain in their neutral corners.
"Max wanted some info so here I am," Logan finally said.
CeCe nodded, taking the answer better than his first. She led the way through a series of hallways then across an alley, through a warehouse and finally into the building Logan recognized as their command post. His exo-skeleton was growing heavy on his legs, and he was grateful for the opportunity to take a rest once he got into her office.
"Thought you were getting better with that whole walking thing," CeCe said, noting his breathlessness.
"Oh, I am," he replied. "It's just… I'm not used to hiking five miles every day through aqueducts while trying to keep up with Heckle and Jeckle."
CeCe snorted a brief laugh. Logan smiled relief.
"The X7's," she ventured. Logan nodded. "Yeah, that's what Alec called them when they were in pairs. That or Frick and Frack. Actually, a couple of them took those as their names."
Her eyes flashed shiny for a second, as if there were the hint of tears there, but it disappeared just as quickly. She waved her brief and silent farewell and left him alone in the room to wait for Max.
Naturally, Alec had names for them. Unflattering and chiding names. Logan felt his use of the same terms was kinder. He was being creative in his report; he was a journalist and a turn of phrase was part of the job as much as delivering the truth.
The truth. He sighed as he pulled an email from the pocket of his jacket. He was there to deliver some to Max. He smoothed out the message and waited for her to arrive. He could have called to deliver it, but he wanted to see her, to be there in person when he did it, as if that would somehow make it go smoother and right the situation for them. He did rush to bring it to her, knowing she was waiting. The decision not to convey the answers over a cyber chat was made when he contacted the TC and found she was busy dealing with plans to connect power to a different part of the complex as they redistributed their forces within the toxic complex.
He was wondering what, if any, improvements they were making in their walled city when the door behind him opened. He never heard her steps. Her feline inclinations made her approaches silent as always. She looked at him with a scared yet eager look. He gazed back with satisfaction and provided her an answer quickly.
"You were right," he reported with a smile. "Alec made it to the encampment outside Khabarovsk after all. He got off the boat in one piece somehow; I don't have those details. He didn't check in with my contact in the Harbor at Vladivostok, but he did hit the secondary check point in Khabarovsk. They saw him 10 days ago. Sounds like he found Dr. Brezhenski."
Logan smiled warmly at her, glad he could deliver good news. He watched, with joy, the relief wash through her dark eyes. She took a steadying breath and hung her head. She nodded slightly then looked up with the hints of a smile on her face.
"Told you so," she offered in a friendly chiding way.
"That you did," he agreed. "I'm hoping to hear more later tonight about what progress he's made."
"You can talk to him?" she asked with interest.
"No, my contact was sending one of his people to get some details," Logan shook his head. "I'm hoping I'll get an update on his progress and if there's an exit strategy in the works. I've got some ideas—a safer boat this time, promise—to get him and Brezhenski back here. It'll take a little bit to coordinate it, but… I'm hopeful."
Max nodded her appreciation. Logan noticed tension in her shoulders from the tight grip she had from her folded arms. He suspected she was forcing herself to stand still rather than hug him; he felt the same way and decided not to over analyze the moment.
# # # #
The day was grinding along. Mole had just poked his head into her office to announce Ralph had returned from her supply run without any difficulty. That allowed Max to check the only planned incident off their list for the day. The rest would be spent inventorying what they had. Making plans for the rest of the week and checking in with their outside contacts on where things stood with the federal government on their desire not to be jailed as well as their other contacts on what White might be planning in the vein of exterminating them from existence.
All in all, it should be a quiet day, she thought as Mole departed chomping on his vile cigar. She made a mental not to see if they could tap into a cheap supplier of them the next time they made a run. The one in his mouth was growing dangerously short and she heard from others that it was his last one. She didn't want to think what a pain in the ass he'd be if he was forced to live without them.
Max shook her head and made a mental note to add that to her ever growing "to do" list. Getting cigars for Mole should not have been on her radar. This was something best left to someone with that granular level of interest in the lizard man's happiness. That no one really understood or cared what made Mole happy, least of all Mole himself, was an issue as well. The only reason to give the guy anything would be to get on his good side, to form an alliance. She had no need of that. She had his grudging and grouchy allegiance simply by virtue of being in command. No, placating and manipulating the man to keep him out of everyone else's face was a job best left to someone with a different skill set.
Alec, she thought, and caught herself smiling at the thought of him—and not for the first time in recent days.
He should be heading home soon, she knew. Logan was still working on the precise details, but he got word from his contact 12 days earlier that Brezhinski was no longer at the camp and Alec had made contact with one of Logan's people in a town many miles away. It was a good sign. The mission was nearly complete except for the last bit: a clean departure.
Max was feeling a good deal better lately. Her sleep, minimal as it was, was still fitful, but her quiet and alone time in the evenings was no longer as grueling. The knots in her chest had subsided, and she was allowing herself to think positively. Or nearly positively. There were more "possibly's" and "maybe's" in her thoughts now. Like, possibly they could avoid the wrath of Mole's cigar drought in the next few days or maybe she would give that menial task to Alec when he finally returned, so they could avoid this situation from erupting again in the future.
Alec, she shook her head again. She would have never thought it possible that any notion beginning with him could give her any sense of ease or pleasure. It was a measure of how screwed up her world had become, which was saying something considering how FUBAR it was to being with.
She muddled through the day, taking complaints and suggestions from her fellow TC inhabitants. She video conferenced with Detective Clemente, in secret on his end, about what the sector police were reporting to the mayor. There wasn't much in the way of news for what the federal troops were thinking. They had reduced their number outside the gates as the weeks had dragged on with no offensive action from Max's people. The public, by and large, was growing bored with the standoff, which boded well for the fenced-in freaks. It took the pressure off the politicians to do anything. This was a huge help Max knew. It took another bullet out of the guns pointed at the toxic wasteland. The flipside was, the media was getting bored, too.
The only upside of having a news camera targeted on your front yard all the time was that it added some security. As soon as everyone stopped gawking, White could make his move with relative ease. Max shook her head at that thought. One life-altering crisis at time, she reminded herself. Today's was the supply run. That evening, she was to meet with Mole to go over his wish list for their next outside the wire foray. Tomorrow, maybe, she thought, I'll give a damn about what White's got cooking.
Her meeting with Mole was short. She arrived as TC began shutting down for the night. The sentries were in place and the lights in the complex cut to just a few strategic bulbs needed by those whose cocktail hadn't given them spectacular night vision. She arrived at Building Two, which served as the armory for the complex, to find Mole leaving for the night.
"Here," he growled, shoving a paper at her as he stalked out of the room. "I need that."
She let him pass, not caring where he was going. This was an improvement over their more recent meetings. The fact he had written down what he wanted rather than spit it in her direction was practically a marriage proposal by comparison. The door slammed shut with the finality of an argument ending cuss. Max waved carelessly and needlessly to him over her shoulder as she began to peruse his wish list.
She was engrossed in the details when the door flew open and a rush of air told her she was no longer alone.
"Max!" Bullet called breathlessly as he blurred into the room. "Max!"
"What?" she asked, looking up at the shelves and racks holding their meager but well-protected weapons cache.
She didn't carry a firearm. Never had since leaving Manticore the first time, which put her in the super minority in TC. She was looking over Mole's latest wish list and projections for what they might need to continue to keep their position secure, glad to note most of what he was asking for was for electronic surveillance and not assault rifles. She turned her attention to the agitated X-6 who had skidded to a halt beside her.
"Sick bay," he blurted out and pointed wildly in the direction of that building.
"What about it?" she asked in a clueless voice.
No one was in their medical unit that night. No one was hurt, as far as she knew. Transgenics and transhumans rarely got sick without some seriously nasty bio agent's assistance. There were also no pregnant transgenics close to going into labor. There was no reason any should be in the medical triage unit that night.
"He's here," Bullet grinned, his face glowing and his eyes wide like tea saucers. "He said not to bug you when I let him through the northwest conduit, but I thought you'd want to know. Pride was passing by, and she took him down to Medical with her because he was bleeding a little."
"Who?" she asked, shaking her head.
"Alec," Bullet beamed. "He's back!"
A/N: More to come. Thanks so much for the reviews. I like your questions and the ponderings as much as the suggestions!