ARCHIVE: With permission
By Valjean
A Grave Situation
Five hours to Los Angeles where they'd refuel, then another six hours to the French Polynesian Islands and the second refueling. Afterwards, another five hours to Wellington, New Zealand, and a three hour boat trip out to Chimera.
Too long ... too far ... too much blood.
Zeb, a grizzled, dark skinned, ex-marine who worked for the smuggler the transgenics sometimes employed, looked as grave as Joshua and Mole when Alec's motorcycle screeched to a halt on the tarmac beside the DC9, their suspicions that something was terribly wrong confirmed when he dismounted only to scoop an obviously unconscious Max up into his arms.
"What happened?" Joshua asked as Alec ran up the ramp into the cargo hold.
"A complication," Alec said grimly as he lay Max down on one of the cots they'd set up as a place to sleep during the long flight. "The kind with machine guns."
"Did you at least get the necklace?" Mole asked, chomping on his cigar.
Alec shot the lizard man a look and the transhuman wisely shut up. "I need a tourniquet!" he shouted over his shoulder. He'd already tightened his belt around Max's upper thigh, but it wasn't doing the job very well.
Zeb pushed his way past Joshua with a large first aid kit in his hand. "I was in the medical corps before I got my pilot's clearance," he said. He put a gentle hand on Alec's shoulder. "Let me see her, son."
Alec, a grateful look in his eyes, moved away, but he didn't let go of Max's hand. "Can you help her? Or do we need to find a hospital?"
"You take her to a hospital and you might as well put a bullet in her head," Mole said. "They'll spot her as a Trannie and it's over -- probably for all of us."
"I know!" Alec shouted, rounding on the big transhuman. "But I'm not gonna just let her bleed to death!"
Zeb was tightening a better tourniquet around Max's leg. "There," he said. "The bleeding's slowing."
"We can't leave that on for the whole trip," Alec said desperately, raking bloody fingers through his hair in frustration. "She'll lose her leg."
Zeb was rummaging in the substantial medical kit. "I always carry a lot more supplies than required," he explained. "I fly alone a lot and you never know what you might need." He held up a small leather case -- surgical instruments.
Alec's eyes widened at the implication.
"I've got antibiotics too," Zeb said. "I served as a surgical assistant in the last Middle East war. Got myself grounded for awhile due to a little drinking problem."
Alec still hadn't decided what to do when he heard the sirens approaching.
"Alec?" Joshua said from where he was keeping watch at the top of the ramp. "Police cars. Lots of them."
"McKinley's people were there," Alec said. "Familiars."
"What?" Mole shouted again, nearly dropping the cigar from his mouth, the loud tone apparently the only way he knew how to communicate. "You mean you were made and you're only now gettin' around to mentionin' that minor detail?"
"Yes, we were made!" Alec screamed at the transhuman.
"Alec?" Joshua asked again. "What should we do? And where's Logan?"
"Logan's on his own," Alec said under his breath as he turned around and looked at Zeb who was working feverishly on Max's wound.
The dark man glanced up. "The bone's splintered. All I can do is control the bleeding, temporarily stitch the veins and arteries, and hopefully keep enough circulation in her leg until a real surgeon can work on it."
Alec knew he couldn't panic. Manticore had taught him better than that. But if he made the wrong decision now Max could lose her leg, or her life. Worse, they all could lose their lives.
The sirens were getting closer. He looked toward the cockpit.
"You said you could fly," Zeb said.
"I said I could 'probably' fly," Alec corrected him. Then he realized what the pilot was implying. "Oh no. I can't ..." He looked at the cockpit again, a flutter of panic once again rising in his chest.
"If I leave Max now she's going to die," Zeb said, his voice brooking no argument and his eyes deadly serious. "All that's keeping blood in her are my fingers holding the torn arteries together. If I tie them off completely, she loses the leg."
Suddenly Mole grabbed hold of the front of Alec's leather jacket, his scaly face mere inches away, his breath reeking of cigar stink. "You brought us here oh high and mighty X5. Now you get us out. Lead damn it!"
"Alec," Joshua said more gently, coming up behind him. "You can do this. You know you can. Get us home."
With him at the controls they were bound to crash and burn. Alec knew they were. But ... what the hell. Who wanted to live forever anyway?
"All right," he said quietly, shrugging away from Mole. "I fly. Zeb takes care of Max. Joshua, you help Zeb. Mole, you come with me. I need a co-pilot, someone to read the charts."
*****
Alec settled into the pilot's seat, took several deep breaths, and placed his hands on the control column. The huge bank of toggles, switches, and lights arrayed in front of him and to both sides was ominous, but not entirely unfamiliar.
"What do you want me to do?" Mole asked.
"For starters you could lose the cigar," Alec said quietly. "The smoke's makin' me nauseous. And then just be quiet a second while I access the info I need."
"What do you mean access?"
Alec pointed to his head. "It's all in here. I memorized the manual and mastered the simulation. But I've gotta remember it, and that's the trick."
He closed his eyes, ignoring the sirens, going back several years in his memory, to when his unit was on military missions for Manticore. He'd been trained as a back-up pilot for one of those just-in-case scenarios where the real pilot and co-pilot might be killed or otherwise incapacitated. He'd learned the stuff like it was a video game.
Visualizing the control panels his genetically enhanced eidetic memory had placed in his brain, he brought up a picture in his mind of the sequences.
"Can you fly this thing or not!" Mole yelled, losing the last of his patience.
Alec opened his eyes, his face impassive, and proceeded to flip a series of switches. The whine of the engines humming to life increased his confidence, and he began going through the rest of the procedures. "Get out the charts," he told Mole, his voice oddly flat. "Look for Vancouver and read me the numbers."
"Vancouver? I thought we were gonna refuel in L.A.?"
"Too dangerous. We'll be tracked. If we cross the border they won't be able to stop us. And even if they try, von Schnelling will cover for us."
"Can we make Vancouver on our fuel?"
"Just," Alec said. "But it'll be close."
He was taxiing the plane onto the runway now, trusting that the tower would see what was going on and warn other air traffic out of his way. Squad cars were racing beside the plane, sirens blaring and lights flashing, but the DC9 was too big for them to stop. Bullhorns commanded he pull over. Instead, Alec pressed his booted foot on the pedals, opening the throttle further, gaining speed. His one worry was that they might shoot out the tires, but pretty soon they were going faster than the cars and leaving them behind.
"The end of the runway's coming up fast," Mole said, his eyes rounder than Alec had ever seen them.
"I know."
"There are electric lines."
"I know."
"And those trees are pretty high."
"I know."
"Shouldn't we be off the ground by now?"
Alec, biting his lower lip, watched their speed. They should be going fast enough now to achieve lift, centrifugal force pressing them into their seats, but he was finding it hard to pull back on the column ... finding it hard to actually put them in the air.
"Alec! The lines!"
Alec bit down harder on his lip, drawing blood, resisted the temptation to close his eyes, and leaned back in the seat, drawing the column slowly toward his chest. Like an ungainly bird, the big DC9 lifted from the ground, bounced, then lifted again.
They cleared the electric lines by mere feet, and the treetops by inches. Below them the police cars skidded to a halt, some sliding sideways into the field at the end of the runway. Banking the plane slowly, Alec brought them around and pointed the nose west.
"Damn," Mole said, his tone unflatteringly surprised. "We made it."
"Yeah," Alec said, his expression relaxing into a cocky grin, belying the fact he was gripping the steering column harder than necessary so the transhuman wouldn't see how badly he was shaking. "We made it. We're goin' home."
*****
"It was like tryin' to land a hotel."
"You mean Zeb made you put that bird down in Vancouver?" O.C. said.
Alec looked at her and just nodded. He was still spun about that particular close call. Max had taken a turn for the worse about the time they were over North Dakota, and Zeb had yelled up front that he couldn't leave her.
"I had no choice," Alec said with a shrug. "We were runnin' on nothin' but fumes. It took me three passes over the airport, and we ended up bouncin' four times, but at least I got us down in once piece. We refueled and were back in the sky within twenty minutes. The Polynesia landing was a little better, although for awhile there I thought we were lost over the Pacific. You wouldn't believe how good those island lights looked when I spotted 'em about dusk. By the time I got us to Wellington it was a piece of cake." He tapped one side of his head. "Guess we can thank Manticore for givin' me, and I quote my file, 'an exceptional procedural memory.'"
"Just like playin' the piano," O.C. said, patting him affectionately on the arm. She looked down at Brac. Learning to walk, he was toddling around on the grass beside her. "Baby," she said. "Your daddy's got skills."
With a deep smile in his hazel-green eyes, Alec reached down and picked up his son, giving him a hug. "O.C.'s right you know," he told the baby. "Your daddy's a very smart man."
"Smart alec man ya mean," O.C. said wryly.
"And your mommy's gonna be just fine," Alec continued, ignoring the good-natured barb. "The Doc said so."
Alec really said the last part for his own benefit, not the child's. The baby had no way of knowing how close Max had come to dying. He took a deep breath and looked out over the clearing in front of them, at all the graves. There were so many. Funny, but with his many priorities when they'd been settling Chimera, making a cemetery hadn't been on the list. Unfortunately, the graveyard had been one of the first things they'd needed.
Max's leg had been a mess by the time they made the island. He'd almost taken her to a hospital in Wellington, but the mainland people were frightened half to death of the mutants on the island and he didn't want Max in their hands. He'd be ever grateful to Zeb though. The pilot had stuck with them all the way, even making the three hour boat trip, which Alec had managed to cut to just over two hours by breaking every marine speed limit in existence with the motorboat. Joshua's stomach still hadn't recovered, and even Mole had looked a bit greener than usual by the time they pulled into the marina.
"What's the Doc got to say about Max?" O.C. asked, looking at the rows of marker stones on the graves.
"That she could still lose her leg," Alec said quietly. "But that she probably won't 'cause she's a transgenic. Her body's healing three times faster than a human's, and as long as he can keep the circulation going she might even be as good as new in a month or so." He looked at O.C., a wry smile on his face. "Doc Makari might have worked for Manticore, but he didn't have much contact with the results of his research. We seem to be a never ending source of wonder to him and he just loves workin' miracles on our genetically enhanced bodies."
"You're lucky to have a doctor here at all," O.C. pointed out. "Let alone one who knows transgenics. Much as I hate to admit it, you owe Lydecker for that one."
"Yeah," Alec said. "'Deck's the one who put Max and me onto Makari. Didn't take much to convince him to come out here though, once he found out no one was gonna shoot him in the head for helpin' Manticore escapees." He looked at Brac. "I probably owe Lydecker for puttin' the guy's mind at ease too."
"Lydecker wants you to succeed, Alec," O.C. said. "He's bought this whole 'save the world' shit lock, stock, and barrel -- figures he's played some part in your creation so he's gotta keep an eye on you now, help if he can. In a fuckin' odd way, you all are his children."
"Somethin' like that," Alec said with a shrug. "I still don't trust the guy, and Max really hates him."
"That's 'cause he tortured you," O.C. said quietly. "More'n once as Max tells it."
"Don't go there, O.C.," Alec said, closing his eyes. Not with my son in my arms.
The baby made a gurgling sound and flayed a little fist. Automatically, Alec reached up and tucked the child's thumb under, making it the proper fighting configuration.
"Don't you think he's a little young for that?" O.C. said, one perfect eyebrow raised and a skeptical look on her dark skinned face.
"Never too young," Alec said. "Not for an X5. Brac's gonna need to learn a lot pretty soon or else he could be a danger not only to himself, but to everyone else."
"You're not animals, Alec," O.C. chided. "No matter what Lydecker says. I swear, that man makes it sound like his Manticore soldiers are rabid dogs just lookin' for somethin' to bite."
All it takes is a trigger for them to kill.
Alec had heard that said about his kind so often he'd come to believe it himself. Then again, he'd also had first hand experience with his own frighteningly aggressive nature, not to mention what had happened to Ben, his twin brother. No, Brac needed to be raised in an atmosphere of strict discipline and rules, taught to use his abilities to their fullest, but more importantly taught how to control the instincts that drove those abilities.
The baby made a happy sound, looked at him, and very clearly said, "Da-da."
Alec melted inside at the little word. Maybe the strict discipline and rules could wait just a little bit longer. Let the kid be a kid while he could.
"Alec," O.C. prompted.
"What?" He looked over at her, still smiling and jostling Brac in his arms.
"With all that happened, with Max bein' hurt and all, I never did hear. Did you get it?"
"Get what?"
"The necklace? The trinket that scientist wanted in return for the information about the medicine that might help the seizures. I mean, Mole said you didn't -- said the whole mission was a bust. And I know with you havin' to rescue Max and all there probably wasn't time. But I just thought I'd ask ..." Her voice trailed off apologetically. But then she looked out over the graves. "You guys need help, Alec. And you need it now. That brain chemistry deficiency thingy is takin' down too many. We've lost--"
"I know how many we've lost, O.C.."
"Even Brac's low on--"
Alec reached into the pocket of his jacket and silently held up a gem studded gold necklace.
There is one upcoming chapter in this story that might not be acceptable for fanfiction.net's new guidelines. Anyone who wants to read "The Best Laid Plans 2: Death and Life" in its entirety as I write the story is invited to my website: http://www.michaeleaston.com/DA/DAfanfic.html. I also have a number of other DARK ANGEL M/A fanfiction stories there that I've not made available on ff.net as of yet. I even keep an email list of interested readers whom I notify when I post new work on the site.
Also, I'd like to encourage all M/A DARK ANGEL fans to read Max Collins' official prequel novel BEFORE THE DAWN. True, Alec isn't in the story (yet), but there's lots of canon background material in the book that would be pertinent to Alec later on. Plus, Mr. Collins says that Alec and Joshua will be "centerstage" in the DARK ANGEL sequel novel SKIN GAME coming out next February. -- author's note