A/N: (Dec 2009) -- Just realised the mission debriefing was never published on ffnet, so I've reposted the last three chapters to include it. For anyone who didn't get it the first time - Sorry!

Seek and Destroy

- Infie


A heavy thud shook the door to the office. 529 threw himself against the door as it began to open, slamming it closed. He twisted the deadbolt and leaned his full weight against the shuddering wood. 511 joined him as the door rattled with the force of the body slamming against it.

"Or not." 494 shrugged and dropped Andrews on the couch, then began running his hands along the walls of the room, searching for cracks or depressions that could indicate a hidden entrance. 303 immediately mimicked him, moving the other way around the room.

"Uh, guys?" 511 reset himself against the door, sweat beading his forehead. "Hurry." He grunted as the door thundered again. 529 remained grimly silent, but his arms had begun to shake.

"You want it done fast, or you want it done right?" 494 picked up the pace, fingers probing every crevice in the panelled wall.

"Both." 511 retorted.

"That's just like you... all or nothing."

"Not so." 511 wiped his temple against his shoulder. "I only want it all."

494 snorted. 303 probed at a promising section of wall with no luck. "Where the hell is that passage?" he muttered in frustration. "There is no way this guy didn't leave himself another way out."

"To the left." Andrews' voice came groggily from the couch. "You... blond boy. To your left."

"I already checked there." 303 moved obediently to his left anyway. "And my designation is 303. NOT," he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "'blond boy'." He ran his hands back over the wall.

Andrews chuckled faintly as he sat up. "I'll keep that in mind. There!" 303 paused, then shrugged. "I can't feel anything."

494 came to stand with him, then motioned for Andrews to join them. "Show us," he said.

Andrews moved to the wall, rubbing his neck. "You know, you could have just asked me to come with you," he said reproachfully. "I may not feel pain, but a stiff neck is still annoying as hell." His eyes hardened. "And one of these days you're going to take a liberty our history won't get you out of."

494 stared at him, then nodded slowly. "Please," he said with exaggerated politeness. "Show us how to open the door."

A particularly heavy thud against the door opened it an inch or so, splintering the deadbolt right out of the door jamb. 511 and 529 pulled back, then threw their weight against the wood again, regaining the lost ground.

"Open the fucking door already," 511 demanded, panting a little. 529 nodded emphatically.

"It's here." Andrews pressed a corner of the panel trim, identical to all the others. There was a faint click, and the panel slid sideways. It revealed a slim opening in the wall with darkness beyond. "It's a tunnel that leads to the outside. The door on the far end has a regular handle on the inside." 494 ducked his head to look inside, then gave Andrews a skeptical look. "It's a long tunnel," Andrews clarified, then smiled at 494 innocently. "I've no reason to steer you wrong, do I?"

494 narrowed his eyes at him, then turned to scan the room. "Help me move the furniture to block the door," he instructed 303, who immediately moved to comply.

"You could have thought of that earlier." 511 muttered.

"A lot earlier." 529 agreed.

"I could just leave you here." 494 shoved the desk across the room as the first piece in the barricade. 511 jumped out of the way just in time and swiped a forearm across his sweating forehead. 529 moved to hold the desk in place, and 494 and 511 moved as one to the floor to ceiling bookcases.

303 dropped the couch on top of the desk. It was shortly followed by two bookcases. The small group stepped back and watched as the door continued to shudder. The pile of furniture shivered but stayed in place. 494 gave a curt nod.

"It'll hold for long enough, I think. 303, 529, you two take point. Andrews and I will follow you. 511... you're covering our retreat." He stuck his head into the tunnel, glanced around. "We'll go through two at a time. We don't know what other doors open into this thing, and I don't want us to get caught in a crossfire situation." He glanced at Andrews, who shrugged his ignorance.

The others nodded. 303 and 529 slipped into the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness as if they were made of shadow themselves. 511 took a position facing the door, dropping to one knee and levelling his pistol. 494 watched closely, but there was no light in the tunnel for even his enhanced vision to see. After a long minute, light flared a couple of hundred metres away, and 494 could make out 529 sliding through a doorway, followed closely by 303.

"It's okay!" 303's voice floated to him. "We're clear."

494 nodded curtly at Andrews, who entered the passage without comment. He turned back to 511.

"Go." 511 said shortly, without looking at him. "I've got your back." 494 didn't move. "I'll be right on you heels, buddy. Get going."

"All right. Give us 30 seconds, then come after us." 494 flashed a quick grin. "Don't forget to shut the door behind you."

511 snorted rudely, his attention unwaveringly focussed on the door.

"Come on, 494." Andrews reached through the opening and took 494's elbow gently. He tugged. "Let's go."

494 followed him into the tunnel. The sides were barely wider than his shoulders, and he resisted the urge to duck his head. Andrews preceeded him, moving at a trot. 494 hastened after him. They were halfway through when 511 came through the door and fumbled with the mechanism to close it. His curse as he jammed his thumb was sharp in the enveloping darkness, but the door scraped closed. He started after them.

Andrews and 494 were only a few steps from the exit when a distinctive grating noise startled them to a halt. They turned back to see a rectangle of light open suddenly a couple of metres behind 511's oncoming form, outlining him in harsh light. 494 blinked against the glare, and saw the silhouette of a gun an instant before the soldier jumped into the tunnel.

"Down!" he shouted, drawing his own pistol in a blur. The soldier's gun spat fire, the flash illuminating him in stark relief. 511 dropped to the floor at 494's harsh command, and the shot missed him.

Andrews pulled 494 to safety against the wall as he fired, sending his shot wild. The slide clicked empty. 511 gave a little blurt of shock as the bullet kicked up sand a foot from his head, but stayed down, covering his head with his arms. 494 cursed and dropped the empty gun. The soldier, who had crouched defensively when 494 fired, laughed. He stood confidently, raised his handgun, and began shooting.

494 dropped to one knee, hearing a bullet whine over his head. He pulled his knife and threw it in one vicious motion. The shooting stopped.

511 tentatively uncovered his head, and looked back over his shoulder. The hilt of 494's knife stood up from the downed soldier's throat, quivering with the force of the throw.

"Damn." Andrews spoke up from behind 494. "You still have one hell of an arm, kid." His voice was curiously strangled. 494 regained his feet and nodded with satisfaction at the dead soldier. 511 climbed to his feet and resumed jogging towards him. 494 breathed a sigh of relief to see him unharmed.

"It's in the genes," 494 quipped, turning back to Andrews and taking a step toward the exit. He froze.

Andrews was leaning heavily against the wall of the tunnel. The light from the door was blocked by 303 and 529 as they responded to the gunfire. As 494 watched, a line of dark red slid slowly down Andrews' forearm. He watched in fascination as it made its way to the tip of Andrews' finger and began to drip, splattering the sandy floor.

"You're hit!" 494 broke free of his trance. He jumped forward, catching Andrews as he started to slide down the wall.

"So I am." Andrews blinked rapidly. "Uh... there is something really wrong here, guys." His whole body sagged. "I can't move. He paused. "And this hurts." His eyes closed, and he convulsed.

"Shit!" 494 fought to control the flailing, superstrong limbs. Finally he managed to clamp Andrews' arms to his body. He dragged him into the sunlight, set him down gently. Andrews lay still, the seizure passed.

303 dropped to his knees and examined the wounded man rapidly. 529 had the cell phone out and was speaking rapidly, his voice a low murmur. 511 came through the door and closed it behind him. It slid into place, merging invisibly with the rock wall. 511 made an impressed noise.

"How bad is it?"

303 was rapidly running his hands down Andrews' body, checking them frequently for blood. "He's hit twice. One on the flank, through and through. Seems ok." He pointed to a small, neat hole in Andrews' shirt, just below his collarbone and about six inches left of centre. "This one is a problem. No exit. A lot of bleeding, though." He rocked back on his heels and wiped his hands on his shirt. "That one could be trouble. Real trouble." He applied pressure to the wound with his whole body. "We need to get out of here."

529 clapped the cell closed. The sound of a helicopter could be heard getting louder. It seemed to be approaching at a rapid pace. "That's our ride," he said with a grin.

494 stared down at Andrews. 511 knelt on one knee beside him, taking off his jacket and placing against the side wound. "What are we going to do with him?" 511 asked 494 softly. "He won't survive the trip to Rome. It's too far." 494 didn't say anything. The chopper hove into sight. "If you want him to live, we should patch him up as best we can and leave him here. We can get that other guy's body for our sample."

494's face was remote, and he turned to look at 511 with empty eyes as the helicopter hovered briefly before descending. The wash of air from the blades buffeted them. "Do you trust me?" 494 finally asked.

511 just arched an eyebrow at him. 494 laughed a little, then took 511's pistol from him. He stood abruptly and strode over to the chopper. 529 and 303 were already belted in. 494 opened the door to the cockpit, and placed the barrel against the pilot's temple.

"Get out," he said.

The pilot blinked in shock, but a meaningful nudge from 494 got him moving. He scrambled out of the pilot's seat. 494 wrenched his arms behind him and frog marched him to the back of the helicopter. The others watched, shocked but not interfering as 494 shoved the protesting pilot into the cargo carrier and shut the door on him firmly.

"511!" He ordered over the sound of the still-turning rotors. "Bring Andrews. Let's go."

511's face broke into a wide grin. "Yes, sir!" He picked Andrews up gently and placed him on the floor of the passenger compartment. 529 and 303 looked at each other, then shrugged in unison. 303 released his belt and resumed pressure on Andrews' shoulder wound. 511 jumped into the pilot's seat, and 494 took the co-pilot's position. They all put on the communications helmets.

"Well, partner," 511's voice sounded amused. "Where are we headed?"

494 waved vaguely to their right. "Head west. I'll tell you when we get there."

511 licked his lips to hide his smile, hauled back on the collective, and took them up. 494 turned to look into the passenger compartment. 303 gave him a thumbs up, and 529 gave him a wide grin, then pulled a flat black device out of his shirt pocket. It was featureless except for a large recessed red button. 494 returned the smile, then nodded.

529 pressed the button.

There was a series of muffled 'whoomps', followed by a thunderous roar. The explosion threw the helicopter forward, bucking against 511's hands on the controls. 494 laughed, looking down at the expanding cloud of dust where the compound had been.

"Now, that's an 'improvement' I can get behind." 494 slapped 511 on the shoulder. "Let's go, pal."

Renfro stalked the length of her office with short, jerky steps. The demontstration should have been completed an hour ago. Where the hell was Johanssen?

When her encrypted cell signalled the incoming call with a terse vibration against her hip, she jumped.

"Renfro."

[What game are you playing here?] Johanssen's voice was tinny, and shaking with rage.

"What happened?" She cut straight to the point.

[Your... offerings blew up my compound!] Johanssen shouted. [It's going to take me years to rebuild!]

Renfro felt all the blood drain from her face, and she sagged against the side of her desk. Nonono... This couldn't be happening. "There's no chance for a technology merge?"

[Oh, the technologies are theoretically compatible.] He responded, scathing. [But I don't think your bosses are interested in pursuing it. In fact, I'd call this heap of rubble a pretty clear indication of disinterest.]

"I'll call you back." Renfro hung up, closing her phone on his enraged growl. She walked slowly and calmly back to her desk, then sat carefully in her chair. Her face was a blank mask worthy of any of the X-5s. After a long moment, she heaved a sigh and dialed her cell again.

"It's me."

[Do we have a success?] Sandeman's voice calmed her, as it always did.

"No. The opposite."

[That is unfortunate.] He paused. [Have the DNA assays been completed?]

Renfro blinked at the apparent change of subject. "Yes. They are all consistent with the previous results. None of the X5s is what we're looking for." She clenched her teeth in frustration. "They're all remarkable, but they all have junk DNA."

[Then we need more. Keep trying.] Sandeman's voice hardened. [We're running out of time, Elizabeth. The answer to the apocalypse is in the X5s, but there aren't enough of them. We need a way to fight the Familiars.]

"I know!" Renfro fought herself back under control. "But Manticore's moved on from the X5 series. We're up to the X8's now." She rubbed her forehead. "I wanted this to work. A combination of the X series and Johannsen's people would have been the perfect counter to their abilities."

[Then keep after him. You know what's at stake here.] His voice softened unexpectedly. [Whatever you do, remember. We're on the side of the angels here. And the serpents are on the way.] He paused. [Do whatever you have to do, Elizabeth. But we need more.]

"Yes, sir." She saw a familiar shadow stop in front of her closed door. "I've got to go." She hung up as Lydecker thrust open the door and strode inside without knocking.

"You bitch." Lydecker was steaming.

"Certainly true, but hardly news, Deck. What do you want?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, eyeing him coldly.

"It was you who sold out my kids to al-Nassan," he growled.

"Prove it," she said.

He stared at her with rage, then turned to leave. "You leave my kids alone, or I'll deal with you... personally," he gritted.

"Oh, Deck." She called after him, then picked up a folder from her desk and extended it to him. "I just authorized a new program for your kids. You can approve the assignments and hand them over tomorrow."

Lydecker opened the folder and scanned the contents briefly. A wash of colour came and went in his cheeks, and he slapped the folder closed with disbelief. "You want to start breeding them? With normals?"

"They're old enough to reproduce safely." She replied, expressionless. "We need to know if the characteristics are transferrable to offspring."

"I won't do it."

"What's wrong, Deck? Messing around with their minds is okay, breaking their bones, torture, no problem... but sex is off limits?" She laughed with genuine amusement. "I don't think so. And if you don't like it, you know where the door is." She smiled even wider. "I'm sure you'd live for a little while before we caught up to you."

Lydecker glared at her impotently, hate in his eyes. He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door so hard that the frosted glass in the window cracked. Renfro's smile left her face, and she closed her eyes, the opened her cell phone again.

"Johannsen... Calm down. I think I know a way we can still deal."

[This better be good. I just lost more than forty men to your last grand idea.] He replied bitterly.

"You're right. But this time, it will all be in your hands." She opened another folder and stared down at the twelve designations on the page. "There's another way you can get a sample of our technology, but you're going to have to find one of them first."

When Andrews opened his eyes, the first thought he had was that he was dead.

He was lying on his right side, and the first sight he had was of an expanse of geen-blue water lapping peacefully against a pristine white beach. He blinked, and realized that the beach was real, and he was looking through a magnificent set of floor to ceiling windows.

"You are awake!" A lovely, low soothing woman's voice came from behind him. He rolled to his back to look, and groaned at the pain that washed through him at the movement. He blinked in surprise. He hadn't felt pain in months, but now... his whole body throbbed with sensation.

The woman came into his field of view, leaning over him worriedly. Her long, curly black hair and olive skin were Mediterranian, and her eyes were a soft, warm amber. "Oh, Mr. Thomas... I'm sorry! Please, lie still," she said softly in accented English. "You are not ready for such abrupt motion."

He gave a laughing groan. "I have to agree with you."

She smiled into his eyes, then reluctantly pulled an envelope out of her pocket. "The boys who brought you in were most insistent that you read this the instant you woke." Her mouth tightened. "Though I think it could wait, I did promise."

"Thank you." Andrews took the envelope and held it tightly in his fist. He waited as she rearranged his pillow, then stood looking down at him. "Uh... I'm a little hungry," he said. "Am I allowed to eat?"

She jumped a little, guiltily. "Of course! How rude of me. I'll get you something immediately." She gave a wide smile and bustled out.

As soon as she was gone, Andrews ripped open the envelope with eager fingers. A single piece of paper lay inside.

You're in an abbey in Santorini, it read. I thought about leaving you back there, since I knew they would patch you up. But I couldn't do it. Andrews stopped reading to take a deep breath, then continued. I don't want you dead, not now, not in a few months. So, I've given you another chance. A noise at the window startled him, but it was just a puppy nosing the glass, imperiously demanding to be let inside. Andrews laughed at himself, reminded of 494. He was an arrogant little brat, too. He turned back to the letter. It's up to you whether or not you take it. The nuns will take care of you, and won't talk. There was a long break, and Andrews turned over the page. There was one more sentence. I hope to see you again, Andrew Thomas.

It was signed, simply, 494.

Andrews sighed heavily and replaced the letter in the envelope. Andrew Thomas, huh? Well... maybe it was time to find out what he might be like.

The woman came back in, a full tray in her hands.

"Thank you," Andrews said, tucking the napkin against his chest as he sat with effort. "I'm starving."