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.
3
I have to admit that a smile almost comes to my face as I look over the schematics that good old Deck is drawing for us. A quick glance at Syl lets me know that she's just as pleased. The facility in Gillette, for all its security, is really more a prison than a fortress. The thing about prisons is that getting in is easy. Once you're in, though, moving about freely and getting back out can be problematic, to say the least. Be that as it may, though, my greatest concerns have already been assuaged. No one ever seemed to expect that any of my siblings would try something like this. If the thought had ever occurred to them, the powers that be would have gone to the trouble of designing a tighter perimeter. This won't exactly be the easiest strike I've ever done, but I think we can get into the main complex. It'll only be then that we'll have to start working miracles.
I look up at the clock again – it's been forty minutes since Max and Krit went to commandeer the van that the South Africans had been using. Lydecker might be a devious, untrustworthy snake in the grass, but at least he seems to be working for us right now. So I guess that makes him our snake in the grass. One look at the first layer of Manticore's security let us know we'd need a mobile command center with satellite computer access, and Don let us know about the South African team that happened to have a wonderful van loaded with everything we'd need. Never mind the fact that twenty-four hours ago he was in cahoots with them, using their equipment to hunt down Max and me. Sorta makes me wonder who he's planning on working with twenty-four hours from now. Maybe he'll be dead in twenty-four hours... now that's a comforting thought.
"There's gotta be something besides cameras and guards," Syl comments, drawing me back to the here and now. I can't believe I was letting my mind wander again, especially at a time like this.
"As far as detection goes, that's pretty much it," Lydecker replies. "The focus of security is on compartmentalizing the facility. You two have probably come up with a dozen ways to get in already. The problem is moving beyond any access point to the more sensitive areas."
"There's got to be a way," I comment, knowing Lydecker wouldn't have come this far if he didn't have something up his sleeve. I have to admit that I don't see any way of moving about without heavy explosives, but if I can count on Deck for nothing else, I know he can be subtle.
"Don't worry about that just yet," he says. "Right now we have to get that command center up and running. Without that we can't even deal with the cameras."
"What about dogs?" Syl asks. As soon as she mentions them, I remember the way she was always skittish around dogs in the old days. Funny how little details like that fade from memory over time. There were dogs all over the compound when we were kids, though they never seemed to get along too well with any of us, and especially not Syl. Our screwy DNA must have created something in us that they didn't like.
"They don't use many dogs anymore," Lydecker says without hesitation, something in his voice letting me know that he was on the losing end of some debate concerning this very issue. "You probably remember that they were all a little weird around your class. Well, by the time the X-7's were produced, the dogs had become downright hostile. There'll be some deployed around the perimeter, and a few walking between the buildings of the complex, but there aren't any dogs inside the buildings anymore."
"That's lucky, at least," I admit. If there's one thing in life I hate, it's guard dogs. Before I can say anything else, though, the back door to the warehouse starts to open, and we see Krit standing in front of the van that he and Max just acquired. I have to admit that after Max's last entrance into the building, it was rather brave of Krit to let his sister do the driving. Lydecker and I stand and walk over, leaving Syl to finish going over the plans on her own. I trust her to find some way of getting the job done. Lydecker and Logan start to pore over the computer equipment as Krit and I examine the few weapons that had been stored inside. There's nothing all that special, but we can certainly use every weapon we can get.
"Well, with a few modifications we can run our operation from in here," Lydecker finally announces, not having taken long at all to reach that conclusion. Yep, he's a royal pain in the ass, but he's a good strategist and he knows his computer equipment.
"I'll get on it," Logan volunteers, finally putting himself to some good use once again. Now that Max and Krit are back, it's time to stop dealing in hypotheticals and get down to business.
"What kind of resistance are we going to meet?" I ask, knowing that vague talk of cameras and sentries doesn't do much good when it comes down to crunch time. I need numbers and details.
"Fortunately for us, most of the X-series has been deployed in various parts of the world," Lydecker tells us. "There is a contingent of conventional soldiers," he says, though he seems to be hanging on something else. "And a small security detail of X-5's," he finally adds, as if he knows just how much that's going to unsettle us. "About a dozen."
"Not the kind of family reunion I was hoping for," Max comments. I really wish she would stop talking about family at a time like this. The X-5's at the complex stopped being family when the rest of us escaped. I honestly don't get why Max doesn't understand that very simple concept.
"With any luck, we'll be in and out before they even know we're there," I say, knowing that's the best I can do to try to quell my siblings' concerns. I don't want them to start getting second thoughts about what we're gonna do. I don't like the whole idea of this mission, but if it's gonna be done, we're sure as hell gonna do it without even the slightest hint of hesitation.
"Say we can breach the perimeter and get inside the building, how are we going to get in the lab and lay the charges?" Syl asks. Well, I guess she couldn't come up with anything, either. That sure doesn't bode well for our chances. "This thing's a lockbox," she adds, throwing the map right at our would-be commander.
"And I've got to figure when they put out the hit on you, they probably yanked your clearance," Max adds, pointing out that the one really foolproof way we might have had to get into the lab is pretty much shot to hell.
"Which is why I need to see a friend of mine before we go," Lydecker says smoothly.
"Like we're just going to let you walk out of here and drop a dime on us?" I ask, hardly able to believe he thinks we could be so gullible. He turns and looks at me like he's almost offended that we think he might be up to something.
"If you don't trust me..."
"That's a given," Krit says, cutting him off.
"Then one of you should come with me," Deck suggests. Now it's time to make a decision. Is he trying classic divide-and-conquer tactics, or is he really on the level? If he has a way into the lab, then obviously we have to let him go meet with this friend of his. In the end I guess we have little choice. The only question is who to send. I'll be leading the assault in the field, so obviously I have to stay here to be in on all phases of planning. Since Syl is the best one at organizing a strike, she also has to stay. That leaves either Max or Krit. I don't know that I can trust Krit not to kill Lydecker if he gets bored, so that pretty much makes Max the obvious choice. Besides, she's the one that dragged him back with this half-ass idea. If anyone has to be punished with one-on-one quality time with Colonel Dad, it's gonna be Max.
"Max, go with him," I say. She looks at me with venom in her eyes, making it obvious that she'll have words for me when she gets back, but she's also already moving to Lydecker's side, making certain he understands that he's not free to get too far. They walk out to the Humvee and drive off into the night, trusting us to have the rest of the plan put together by the time they get back from wherever it is they're going. I guess it's really time to buckle down. I look across the table at Syl, and see her gazing back at me, obviously waiting for me to take the lead in organizing the strike. That's when it hits me – I have absolutely no idea of how to go about doing this.
Sure, ten years ago I was the CO of my group of X-5's, but that doesn't mean that I'm still ready for that responsibility after ten years as a quasi-civilian. Okay, so I've been in my share of scraps in that time, but I've always been on my own. Until Max and I went in to get Tinga, I hadn't really done much team-oriented tactical planning since Manticore. Well, I suppose you could count the time we went to save Brinn, but that didn't go quite as we had planned, so I'm ignoring that whole fiasco. Now here I am, with Syl and Krit waiting for me to fall into a role I think I may have grown out of. So since I have little idea of how to proceed, I make like any civilian middle-manager in my position would – I delegate.
"Syl, I want a rundown of four possible routes through the complex, from the perimeter fence all the way into the lab, and then back out again," I say evenly. "Don't worry about security doors or anything else for right now. I just want the best possible routes you can find."
"Any requirements for the search?" she asks.
"Yeah, plan two as quick, efficient routes, and the others as more roundabout, unorthodox routes," I instruct her. "Try to find us an exit from the roof of the main building, and also see if there are any of the old underground tunnels that haven't been filled in."
"You got it," she says with a wink and a thin smile. I think in that one moment she displayed more personality than I've ever seen from her before. I guess Syl's had some interesting times since our escape and just never bothered to fill me in on details that she knew I'd find superfluous. Maybe I'll ask her after this whole thing.
"Krit," I suddenly say, my voice on the verge of shouting as I once again try to jar myself away from stray thoughts in order to focus on business. I've often heard people use the phrase 'going soft,' but I've never really understood it. Lately, though, I think I may be going soft. I definitely don't have the same edge I had a year ago. I've been concerned about this for a couple of months now, and I think I know what the problem is – Max. At the most inconvenient times I find myself thinking about her, and it's starting to drive me crazy.
"What do you need?" Krit asks, either not noticing or politely ignoring the distractions I feel are so plainly written on my face for all the world to see. I may as well just write 'I can't think clearly because I'm too wrapped up in Max' on a piece of paper and tape it to my forehead.
"I need you to go over every single one of the weapons," I tell him. "You know as well as I do that we can't afford to have a feed jam in the middle of a firefight."
"No problem," Krit says, already going to work breaking down an old AK-47 that we got from the South Africans.
"So what are you gonna be doing?" Syl asks, her eyes never straying from the schematic she's looking over. She probably noticed that something's eating at me. There's no other reason for her to avoid eye contact. After all, it's not like she hasn't memorized every detail on that piece of paper by now.
"I'm gonna go see if I can dig up an old contact of mine," I lie. "There's a guy I know that used to live around here that might be able to get us some ammo."
"We're gonna need it," Krit comments. Syl doesn't say a word... yeah, she definitely knows.
"I'll be back in a little bit," I tell them. Moments later I'm dashing out into the Seattle night, trying to figure out what's wrong with me. I know the problem is stemming from these goddamn emotions that have been creeping into my brain. I don't think any of us were supposed to have feelings. We damn sure weren't ever taught how to deal with them... at least not the ones I'm feeling right now. All good old Don ever told us about emotions was that they should never be allowed to control us. His primary concerns, of course, were fear and anger. I don't think he really ever conceived of the possibility that, as professional soldiers, we would ever really have much of an opportunity to feel anything else. So here I am, in this body consumed with longing and raging with hormones, both human and otherwise, completely unaware of how to regain control.
Focus, damnit! I order myself. I'm hours away from going into battle, some of my X-5's at my side, and another dozen or so arrayed against me. I've devoted my life to keeping my soldiers safe, and now here I am jeopardizing their lives because of a worthless crush. That's all it is, after all – a crush. It's not like Max and I share anything special. She's in love with Mr. Hell-on-Wheels, and he's completely retarded for her. I'd almost be upset if not for the fact that the way things have worked out is actually lucky – getting involved with anyone would only get in the way of my responsibilities, especially if that someone was another X-5. I have to take care of all of my soldiers, after all, and make certain I never play favorites.
Not that any of that shit makes it any easier to take it when Max comes waltzing into the warehouse, giving hugs to Krit and Syl and a big loving smile to Logan, while not even doing any more than glancing at me for about a millisecond. Not that I can get the image of her kissing Logan out of my head whenever I'm alone, like I am now. I honestly think I'm starting to go crazy – there's simply no other explanation for my recent behavior. My insides feel like they're twisting in a knot, and all I want to do is scream, though I know it wouldn't do me any good. All of this angsty crap can wait, I remind myself. You have a job to do. You're a professional, and there's no place for these stupid feelings in your life.
Within twenty-four hours Manticore will be destroyed, and I'll truly have my freedom. Then a new wave of nausea washes over me, and I seriously almost yack in the middle of the alley I somehow found my way into. If Manticore is gone, then all of my soldiers will be safe. What the hell will I do then? The question repeats itself over and over in my mind. If the X-5's don't need me to watch over them, then what is there for me? Am I supposed to settle down and play house like Tinga did, or like Max undoubtedly will? I don't have to even think about that – there's no way in hell that'll ever happen. But if not that, then what?
I take a few steps into a dark, comforting shadow, and let my eyes pierce through the inky blackness. A rat is nibbling on a chicken wing about ten feet away from me, and I wonder for a moment what it would be like to be the tiny animal. It has no real cares in the world. It just hangs out all day, with no real responsibilities. It just eats, sleeps, and makes baby rats. I'll bet the rat never had anyone like Max come into its life and mess with its head. I almost find myself envying the simple life of that stupid rodent... at least until an alley-cat shoots out of nowhere and makes the rat into a meal of its own. Well, maybe it isn't so good to be the rat, after all.
I take a brief look at my watch, ignoring the squeaking death cry of the rat I had been watching, and realize that I've been gone for over an hour. Time sure can fly when you're being self-destructively miserable. There's nothing between you and Max, I tell myself for the umpteenth time. There never will be anything there. It just isn't possible. Besides, it wouldn't work, anyway. I don't understand how examining matters of the heart rationally always seems an effort doomed to failure. So it's pretty useless to tell myself it wouldn't work. Here's something that will, though – if nothing else, I am still the CO of the escaped X-5's. They're my soldiers. My responsibility. I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, and I will never, ever endanger any of them just because I can't get a handle on my emotions. Tonight, I have a job to do. No matter what happens, I will not forget my responsibilities.
To be continued..................................