James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.
"Zack, they're here," Logan's voice says softly. I immediately shake off the cloud of sleep and focus my concentration on my left knee, checking to see how well the healing process has progressed. It's tight, that's for sure, but the searing pain is gone. I swing my legs out over the side of the cot and hesitantly stand up. All right, the knee is very, very tight, but it can support my weight. It's far from being 100%, but then again, I only plan on tracking down Lydecker and his boys. Even in my present condition I should be more than a match for any normal human. Especially with Krit and Syl backing me up. I really can't wait to see the look on good old Donald's face when three of his escaped soldiers swoop in unexpectedly and snatch away his prize. Logan's cell-phone rings, knocking my thoughts back into focus, and he walks out of the storeroom as he talks to one of his contacts.
Maybe Logan Cale isn't so bad, after all. Sure, he's no soldier, but he did have the skill to hack into a Chinese spy satellite and give us a heads-up on Lydecker and his people, even if the heads-up did come about a minute too late to be of any real use. He also seems to know people everywhere, giving him access to all kinds of useful information. The thing that I really like about the guy, though, is that he's left me alone since we decided to spring Max. He's been busy doing whatever it is he's doing, and he's trusted me to take care of my own end of the operation. He works very well independently. Maybe that's why he was such a fuck-up when trying to work in a group. Either way, though, Logan certainly does have value in our rescue plans. I'll just have to make certain he knows his role and sticks to it. Maybe I should also throw in a word or two about remaining professionally detached from the situation.
After my first few steps toward the door to the front of the abandoned warehouse, I already feel my knee loosening up. It's good to be a trans-genetically engineered super-soldier. I wouldn't give it up for the world. I don't know for sure what it's like to be human, but I know that none of them have it as easy as I do. Sure, I have to stay on the run from Manticore and foreign governments that would love to get their hands on the bio-technology that comprises my very being, but that's no real biggie. My material needs are met, and I have a purpose. How many other people in the world can say they know exactly what their role is in life? There's no confusion in for me – I exist to take care of my soldiers. Anything else is a distraction.
I walk into the front and set my eyes on Krit and Syl. Krit looks eager to get into a fight. Nothing new there, I guess. He always did love a good scrap, rushing in where angels fear to tread. Syl, on the other hand, is her usual, more reserved and thoughtful self. I think that probably makes her the more dangerous of the two. Just comparing the two on a physical level, Krit obviously has the edge. He's stronger and faster, an incredible specimen even by Manticore standards. But Syl... I don't know. The way she looks at people is almost eerie. She examines everything with exacting precision. Her gaze is unsettling for people that aren't used to it. I remember one time, when we were kids, when she simply stared at one of the newer sentries in the mess hall. For the entire meal, all she did was stare. He noticed, and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other, and then diverted his own gaze to the floor. The man must have been thirty years old, the product of some of the best training the U.S. military had to offer, and he was completely psyched out by the gaze of an eight-year old.
As we left the mess that morning, I remember hearing Syl whisper to the man that he should stop cheating on his wife with one of the nurses. He just stared in disbelief that she had somehow picked out what he had been doing, just by looking at him for a half-hour. That's the kind of person Syl is – you can't hide anything from her. She has a knack for finding weak spots in people, be they friend or foe, and then exploiting them. She's always amazed me. It's a good thing she escaped from Manticore. I can just imagine the kind of work they would have come up with for her to do.
"Syl, Krit, what do you got?" I ask as I walk out to join my siblings. Spread out on a table is a nice little collection of military hardware, including an AR-15, an M-16, two MP-5's, and a half-dozen grenades.
"Packs a punch, but I've only got 40 rounds," Krit replies, gesturing toward the AR-15. It's definitely a nice weapon, but he's right – forty rounds isn't gonna get the job done.
"I'll track some more down," I promise him. Krit's abilities in combat are limited only by the weapons he chooses. If I give him more than enough ammunition for the job, he'll be an unholy terror. "What about you, little sister?" I ask Syl.
"Russian-made RGN-3's, fragmentation pattern explosion," she tells me, tossing a grenade over in my direction.
"Nice," I comment with an approving nod. Grenades are the perfect weapons for someone like Syl. She gets to stay under cover and toss out one weapon that eliminates several threats at once. It's not as direct as Krit's habit of mowing down enemies with an assault rifle, but it's just as effective. Put the two of them together as a pair, and they're absolutely deadly. Their styles complement each other perfectly. When we're out in the field, it'll be Krit and Syl in one unit, and me on my own. I would have liked to get someone to work with me, to watch my six, but none of the others could get here in time.
"Thanks," Logan says, snapping his phone closed with a flourish of his hand. I guess that's a sign that we're supposed to pay attention to him now. It's a little hard to take him seriously, though. I have Krit and Syl showing me their newest bad-ass military weapons, and Logan's over there playing with a cell-phone. It's almost comical, actually. "That was a contact of mine," he reports, as if none of us had guessed that much already. I think it was safe enough to assume that he wasn't ordering a pizza, though that would be a fine idea. I'm really, really hungry. "Military convoy just swooped in on some motel in sector eight," he says.
"That's got to be them. Let's move out." It looks like any chances to get more ammunition for Krit will have to wait. I just hope he remembers to fire short, controlled bursts, and not blow his entire magazine all at once. We turn to leave, and suddenly the wall opposite us crashes in. Black Humvee. Military issue. Manticore. I raise my weapon and prepare to fire, and I see out of the corner of my eye that Krit's just as prepared. I sense that Syl is standing behind us, as I would expect her to be. She's no vanguard soldier, that's for sure, but by standing back she gives herself an extra half-second to evaluate the situation. No enemy who knew her would be comfortable with allowing her that luxury.
The Hummer comes to a screeching stop, and I do my best to hide my surprise when I see Max behind the wheel. I know her training was every bit as good as mine, but she hasn't maintained her skills as well as she should have. She's let herself go a bit, sorta lost her edge. I'm quite honestly surprised that she was able to effectuate an escape on her own.
She gets out of the vehicle as we all lower our weapons, and her eyes light up with glee. "Krit," she says with a smile, and then she grabs him in a tight embrace. Something in me recoils at seeing her in the arms of another man, but I stuff the feeling down in my gut, as has become custom. Max is my soldier. My responsibility. Personal feelings could jeopardize my ability to effectively do my duty. I will never allow that to happen. Over the years I've accepted that I'm stuck with human emotions, an obvious oversight by my designers. I can't avoid feeling the way I do, but I can sure as hell ignore it.
"Hey, Maxie," Krit mutters into Max's shoulder. He's got the widest smile I've ever seen on his face. Well, maybe the rescue has just been called off, but that doesn't mean morale is down at all. No sooner was Max out of Krit's arms than she was smothering Syl in a tight hug. I figured that with everyone as happy as they were, it was a bad time to point out that if Max had shown up just a few seconds later, she likely would have run us down with the Humvee. She should really be more careful when she's driving.
"Syl," Max said lightly, and I could tell she was fighting back tears of joy. Ever since I met Max, she's been desperate to find the rest of us. Now she's gotten to see two siblings she hasn't seen since the escape. She gives me a sideways glance, but doesn't say a word. Of course, she doesn't need to, either. I know what she's thinking. She's touched that I had rushed to get a rescue party together for her, but she'll never admit it to me. I ignore the twinge of... something... that I feel when she all but ignores me.
"Hey," she says to Logan, with a tone and expression that only a young girl in love can ever really muster. For the briefest of moments she seems like a normal girl, and I doubt anyone could have seen her just then and ever guessed what she really is. She's certainly come a long way in the single year she's spent in Seattle.
"Hey yourself," Logan replies with a smile of his own. Dumb bastard is totally in love with her. It's obvious he just hasn't thought this all through yet. Logan may be many things, but he's not completely dim. Sooner or later he's going to realize the implications of continuing this relationship with Max, and he'll stuff his feelings down deep inside, just like I have. It's the smart thing to do. It's the professional thing to do. If he wants to keep himself from getting hurt, it's the only thing to do.
Without another word, Max abruptly turns and walks back to the Humvee. "How'd you know where to find us?" Logan asks weakly.
"Bling told me there was a party," Max replies as she opens the back door to the Hummer. She pulls someone out, and I can't even find the words to express what I'm feeling. Good old Colonel Lydecker, here in our warehouse.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Syl comments, looking at Lydecker the way a cat might gaze at a goldfish in a bowl. Part of me really just wants to put a bullet in Deck's head, but another part wants to give him to Syl, to see what she would come up with for him. I'll bet she knows all about his greatest, darkest fears. What she would do to him would likely be as inhuman as everything he ever did to us.
"You said you needed a few perfect soldiers," Max comments to Lydecker. "Well, here we are."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, the words coming forth from my mouth before I have a chance to check them.
"He's going to help us," Max says, her answer begging the obvious question.
"Help us what?" Krit asks for all of us.
"Take down Manticore," Max replies matter-of-factly. Both Krit and Syl look at each other, and then they look at me, as if they're asking me whether Max could possibly have said what she did. Judging by the fact that we all reacted the same way, I have to assume that she really did just say that we're gonna take down Manticore. It seems a little crazy, even for Max. Maybe she didn't escape at all. Maybe Lydecker let her go so she'd bring him right to us. But he didn't have her long enough to reprogram her that thoroughly, did he? I really can't be sure.
"Okay, let's just take this down a notch," I suggest, gesturing toward the rickety table and chairs we had in the warehouse. "Can we take a few moments to discuss this rationally, before anyone starts going off half-cocked?" I look pointedly at Max, and I think she realizes that when I say 'someone,' I mean her. Everyone sits down in the general vicinity of the table – Krit takes a seat at the table, while Max crouches on top of it; Lydecker sits in the corner with Syl hovering close-by; and Logan sits as far removed as he can while still being in the area. Kudos to him. He obviously knows this isn't a decision that should involve him. Unlike the others, I refuse to sit. I just pace around them all, letting my knee continue to stretch out as I toss ideas around in my head. No one's speaking... they're all watching me, waiting to see what I have to say. Well, what exactly do I have to say? This whole idea seems a little crazy to me. Maybe that's the best place to start off.
"This is crazy, Max," I say, trying to jolt some sense into my 'sister.' "We've made it this far by staying under the radar, blending in." As the saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Then again...
"Always on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder," Max counters. "You said it yourself. They'll never stop looking for us. They'll hunt us down one by one until we're either dead or in a cage. It's time to bring this war home." To tell the truth, there's nothing I've ever wanted more. I am a soldier, after all. I love the idea of a stand-up fight, especially if the alternative is endless retreat from my enemy. I've grown tired of our decade-long escape and evade action. If there were a way to do this on my own, I would jump at the opportunity, even if I knew it would be a suicide mission. Bringing the others in, though... it doesn't seem right. I don't like it at all. I've been training constantly since the escape, and so has Krit, but Max isn't the same soldier she was back then, and Syl was never exactly an unstoppable force in the field.
"Maybe you're right," Syl admits, predictably being the next one to see the potential such a decision holds. She has to know the danger, but she's also smart enough to see the potential upside of the assault. "But what about him?" she asked, nodding toward Lydecker. Good, she still has reservations.
"And you expect us to believe he's had an epiphany because of what happened to Tinga?" I add angrily, echoing Syl's thoughts and letting everyone know in no uncertain terms that I don't like this idea.
"Maybe," Max said, her voice not all too certain. It's good to see she still has some rational doubts. "Or one of his bosses want him dead in a big way."
"Take a number," Krit spits, not bothering to hide the fact that he's more than willing to kill Lydecker here and now. I've always liked Krit.
"Either way, he's going to help us." Ah yes, self-interest – there's probably no greater motivator for the human species. If Lydecker really thinks his ass is forfeit unless we succeed, then maybe he could be trusted to a certain extent. Maybe he really will help us.
"Or double-cross you. Again," Logan says, reminding Max of the last time we worked with Lydecker.
"I don't expect you to trust me, but remember what I taught you," Lydecker replies. I wonder if he realizes what a bad idea it is to remind us of all the time we enjoyed the 'privilege' of being his students. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," he says in a slightly condescending tone.
"Shut up," I growl, letting our prisoner know how little I like being preached to.
"I know that facility and its defensive capabilities like the back of my hand," Lydecker says smoothly. "I can get us inside."
"Then what?" Syl asks. "There are only four of us. What kind of damage can we do?" Always the strategist, wondering what kind of tactical advantage can be gained by any action. I doubt Syl has ever done anything in her life without knowing exactly what benefit she would enjoy by doing so. I think she sees the world like a chessboard, with every action taken with a specific purpose in mind. What a wonderfully militaristic mind...
"You take out the DNA lab," Lydecker replies, making certain he moves slowly as he stands from his chair, as if he wants to ensure we all know he's not planning anything stupid. "Destroy their ability to develop a new generation of soldiers."
"And what's to keep our enemy... or the enemy of our enemy... from starting over?" I ask, figuring that's the fatal flaw in Donald's plan.
"You remember when you kids escaped?" Lydecker asks, his voice indicating that he's about to go into storytelling mode. His stories were always almost interesting, filled with death and destruction, and invariably containing a moral that could be applied to our roles as soldiers. Just the memory of 'Bedtime Stories by Don' made me want to retch all over the floor. "They almost shut the place down," he says. "That's nothing compared to what will happen if we can take out the lab. There'll be a war of finger-pointing, funding will disappear, and Manticore... will cease to exist."
"It's worth a shot," Krit says way too quickly. It's obvious he's been dreaming about going back home for a long time. Yep, going home to visit his childhood home, and blowing it up. Typical Krit stuff.
"I'm getting tired of running," Syl says, here voice still slightly noncommittal. She's making her intentions clear – she'll go along if I decide to lead the attack, but she'll also accept my decision if I consider the operation too risky.
"I don't like it," I admit. There's just too much that can go wrong.
"There is no 'I' in 'team,' Zack," Lydecker says. He's got to know just how badly I could cripple him. It amazes me that he still has the gall to egg me on like that.
"I don't like it, either, but we don't have a choice," Max says, making it clear where she stands. She's wrong, though. Of course we have a choice. We can just continue on our own, just like we have been. Or we could wait a little while so that I could get all the others to come in to support us. This is all just too quick. Maybe that's the point, though. Maybe Max knows it has to be done now, before any of us stop long enough to consider just how foolish this might be. She's right, though – if it's gonna be done, it has to be done now. If any one of us has the wisdom to sleep on our decision, we'll never go through with this. It's obvious Lydecker has convinced Krit and Max, though Syl is still waiting on me. Max and Krit are my soldiers. My responsibility. I can't let them attack Manticore on their own. I have to be there to protect them.
"You so much as breathe wrong, there'll be four of us to take you out," I remind Lydecker.
"Make that five," Logan blurts out. I guess the sentiment is nice, but Lydecker would kick Logan's ass seven ways to Sunday if given the opportunity.
"Got it," Lydecker says, apparently deciding to humor our ADA-hire co-worker.
"Come on, you're going to draw us a map of the facility," Syl says, grabbing a tight hold of Lydecker. Good, she's getting right down to business. With Syl helping to plan this, and me and Krit together again out in the field, we might actually have a chance. I'll have to remember to thank Max when this is all over – I doubt anyone else could have ever made it possible.
To be continued.............................