Logan hung up the phone without dialing again. "Chicken," he muttered to himself.
He turned back to his computer screen. The television across the room was showing the news; Alaska had withdrawn from the United States and was issuing a two-week warning for all Federal and military units to be removed, with unlimited asylum granted to any personnel who wished to remain behind. The economic repercussions were fairly extensive, and oil prices in Seattle were already nearly doubled. Logan didn't really think that the oil prices were reflecting actual costs, though, and he was determined to find out who was making the obscene profits and stop them.
He scrolled through another page of public business records, scanning for anything that read suspiciously; too much income, too little income, changes in policy, big layoffs without low profits. He kept coming up with nothing, and the words were beginning to blur before his eyes, but it was still easier than thinking about Max.
How he envied her the self-control she always displayed. That carry-over discipline that she brought from Manticore was amazing. She didn't even realize what a remarkable creature she was, to have come through a childhood designed to turn her into a machine with a conscience and a heart. She was a blend more perfect than her Manticore creators had the vision to imagine; designed with strength, tempered by intelligence and humanized with one of the most generous, un-selfish hearts that Logan had ever encountered.
Logan woke abruptly, checked automatically to make sure that he hadn't left a pool of drool on his arm where he'd fallen asleep, and tried to figure out what had startled him.
Someone was pounding on his door, frantically, and shouting. The words weren't distinguishable until he had wheeled himself to the entry, and he could hear, "Logan! Logan, it's Gen! Please open up! Max... Oh, God, Logan!!"
He unlocked the door as quickly as he could, and Gen fell into the room. She was dressed for a night on the town, but was disheveled and panicked looking. "Max, Oh God, Logan, they took her! Black vans, a dart, I couldn't do anything." She fell onto his couch and buried her head in her hands, sobbing.
"What happened?" Logan asked, when the tightness in his chest subsided enough to allow words. He desperately hoped Gen wasn't going to be the type to get hysterical and unintelligible. He was relieved when she looked up at him. Tears were streaming down her face, but her eyes were intense, not frenzied.
Gen swallowed hard. "I went to meet Max at Crash. When I was still down the block, I saw her turn into the alley to park her bike. A black van pulled up at the entrance of the alley," a deep breath, "and men in fatigues came out, two of them, went into the alley and carried Max out with them. She had a dart in her arm and was unconscious." Her eyes were agony. "I remember the license plate. It was from Wyoming."
"Manticore." Logan spun away from her, unable to meet her eyes any longer and dizzy from the fact that he hadn't taken a breath during her entire story. "Give it to me," he said, crisply. He wheeled towards his computer, turning off the still rambling television as he passed it.
Gen stood up and followed him, reciting the information. "What can I do?" she asked, falteringly.
Logan met her glance once, saw too much similarity to Max in her gaze, and had to look away. "You can remember for me. Tell me everything about these men."
Gen told him, giving the information like Max would have, detailed, precise, without any faltering or confusion. Unlike Max, her face was a mask of pain and uncertainty. Her cheeks were red where she scrubbed away tears, and she wrung her gloves in her hand awkwardly around the splint that still held her finger rigid. She hadn't taken off her coat, and one of the collars was sticking up, giving her a lop-sided little-lost-girl look.
"Can you contact Zach or one of the other X-5s?" she queried.
"Unfortunately, no. I've got a lead on a pharmacy that has been doing brisker than usual business with tryptophan in Detroit, but it's not enough to get anything conclusive from, let alone get any contact information." Logan was typing the license plate into another of his search bases.
He waved Gen silent, made a quick phone-call to a source inquiring about traffic out of Seattle, thanked him, and hung up.
"Good news?" Gen asked, hope in her eyes.
Logan shook his head. "Traffic has been clear. They could be out of the Seattle area by now."
Gen sat, finally, as if her legs had given out on her. "How do you get all these contacts?" she asked.
Over his glasses, Logan looked at her, hard, and finally decided that if Max could trust her, he could. "You know that cable-hack who does the Streaming Freedom videos?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on Gen's face. "One of my personal heroes. I've been an avid fan since I moved to the outskirts of Seattle four years ago."
Logan tried not to look as pleased as he felt. "I'm Eyes Only." He was expecting some kind of reaction. A delighted smile, a gasp, something positive. He wasn't expecting Gen's face to drain of color. She stiffened in her chair, knuckles white at the edge of the chair. Her eyes bored into his with more intensity than he had yet seen in her, the blue that he had considered soft suddenly hard in her ashen face.
She stood abruptly, and walked to the window. Her arms were crossed. "You couldn't have known to say that."
Logan was baffled, momentarily distracted from Max's plight. "What do you mean?"
Gen turned to look at him, and seemed a completely different person than the cheerful, sweet girl that had lounged on his couch and traded childhood stories with Max. "I've spent the last 6 years learning how to lie." Her voice was even different. Clinical, chilly, with a hint of something like self-loathing. She looked at Logan, who looked blankly back, not understanding. She sighed, and looked out the window again. "Lydecker sent me to find Max and bring her in, and to find out as much as I could about the other X-5s she may have had contact with. He's not an idiot, and when she stayed in Seattle, he knew that the way to get to her was to exploit her weakness. Her family. Me. I turned her in, Logan, and came back to get whatever information I could out of you."
*******
Author's notes: Did you guess?! Please let me know!
He turned back to his computer screen. The television across the room was showing the news; Alaska had withdrawn from the United States and was issuing a two-week warning for all Federal and military units to be removed, with unlimited asylum granted to any personnel who wished to remain behind. The economic repercussions were fairly extensive, and oil prices in Seattle were already nearly doubled. Logan didn't really think that the oil prices were reflecting actual costs, though, and he was determined to find out who was making the obscene profits and stop them.
He scrolled through another page of public business records, scanning for anything that read suspiciously; too much income, too little income, changes in policy, big layoffs without low profits. He kept coming up with nothing, and the words were beginning to blur before his eyes, but it was still easier than thinking about Max.
How he envied her the self-control she always displayed. That carry-over discipline that she brought from Manticore was amazing. She didn't even realize what a remarkable creature she was, to have come through a childhood designed to turn her into a machine with a conscience and a heart. She was a blend more perfect than her Manticore creators had the vision to imagine; designed with strength, tempered by intelligence and humanized with one of the most generous, un-selfish hearts that Logan had ever encountered.
Logan woke abruptly, checked automatically to make sure that he hadn't left a pool of drool on his arm where he'd fallen asleep, and tried to figure out what had startled him.
Someone was pounding on his door, frantically, and shouting. The words weren't distinguishable until he had wheeled himself to the entry, and he could hear, "Logan! Logan, it's Gen! Please open up! Max... Oh, God, Logan!!"
He unlocked the door as quickly as he could, and Gen fell into the room. She was dressed for a night on the town, but was disheveled and panicked looking. "Max, Oh God, Logan, they took her! Black vans, a dart, I couldn't do anything." She fell onto his couch and buried her head in her hands, sobbing.
"What happened?" Logan asked, when the tightness in his chest subsided enough to allow words. He desperately hoped Gen wasn't going to be the type to get hysterical and unintelligible. He was relieved when she looked up at him. Tears were streaming down her face, but her eyes were intense, not frenzied.
Gen swallowed hard. "I went to meet Max at Crash. When I was still down the block, I saw her turn into the alley to park her bike. A black van pulled up at the entrance of the alley," a deep breath, "and men in fatigues came out, two of them, went into the alley and carried Max out with them. She had a dart in her arm and was unconscious." Her eyes were agony. "I remember the license plate. It was from Wyoming."
"Manticore." Logan spun away from her, unable to meet her eyes any longer and dizzy from the fact that he hadn't taken a breath during her entire story. "Give it to me," he said, crisply. He wheeled towards his computer, turning off the still rambling television as he passed it.
Gen stood up and followed him, reciting the information. "What can I do?" she asked, falteringly.
Logan met her glance once, saw too much similarity to Max in her gaze, and had to look away. "You can remember for me. Tell me everything about these men."
Gen told him, giving the information like Max would have, detailed, precise, without any faltering or confusion. Unlike Max, her face was a mask of pain and uncertainty. Her cheeks were red where she scrubbed away tears, and she wrung her gloves in her hand awkwardly around the splint that still held her finger rigid. She hadn't taken off her coat, and one of the collars was sticking up, giving her a lop-sided little-lost-girl look.
"Can you contact Zach or one of the other X-5s?" she queried.
"Unfortunately, no. I've got a lead on a pharmacy that has been doing brisker than usual business with tryptophan in Detroit, but it's not enough to get anything conclusive from, let alone get any contact information." Logan was typing the license plate into another of his search bases.
He waved Gen silent, made a quick phone-call to a source inquiring about traffic out of Seattle, thanked him, and hung up.
"Good news?" Gen asked, hope in her eyes.
Logan shook his head. "Traffic has been clear. They could be out of the Seattle area by now."
Gen sat, finally, as if her legs had given out on her. "How do you get all these contacts?" she asked.
Over his glasses, Logan looked at her, hard, and finally decided that if Max could trust her, he could. "You know that cable-hack who does the Streaming Freedom videos?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on Gen's face. "One of my personal heroes. I've been an avid fan since I moved to the outskirts of Seattle four years ago."
Logan tried not to look as pleased as he felt. "I'm Eyes Only." He was expecting some kind of reaction. A delighted smile, a gasp, something positive. He wasn't expecting Gen's face to drain of color. She stiffened in her chair, knuckles white at the edge of the chair. Her eyes bored into his with more intensity than he had yet seen in her, the blue that he had considered soft suddenly hard in her ashen face.
She stood abruptly, and walked to the window. Her arms were crossed. "You couldn't have known to say that."
Logan was baffled, momentarily distracted from Max's plight. "What do you mean?"
Gen turned to look at him, and seemed a completely different person than the cheerful, sweet girl that had lounged on his couch and traded childhood stories with Max. "I've spent the last 6 years learning how to lie." Her voice was even different. Clinical, chilly, with a hint of something like self-loathing. She looked at Logan, who looked blankly back, not understanding. She sighed, and looked out the window again. "Lydecker sent me to find Max and bring her in, and to find out as much as I could about the other X-5s she may have had contact with. He's not an idiot, and when she stayed in Seattle, he knew that the way to get to her was to exploit her weakness. Her family. Me. I turned her in, Logan, and came back to get whatever information I could out of you."
*******
Author's notes: Did you guess?! Please let me know!