Part 13
Swearing to stick to free range eggs for the rest of his life, Brennan tried for the tenth time in half that many minutes to find a way to release himself – and with no more success than had met the previous nine attempts. The cuffed chains that looped his wrists and ankles together and attached him to the stout post forming the backbone of his cramped accommodation just rattled mockingly at him as he exerted his not inconsiderable strength against them, but refused to give.
He awkwardly wiped at the sweat dripping into his eyes as he took a breather, hunching down against the wall. The crate-like, up-ended oblong he was being held in was like a sauna, its flat roof absorbing the afternoon sun's heat and the slatted wooden sides allowing reflected light from the dusty rock-strewn ground to bounce in and add to the effect. Those slats also allowed him just enough space to see several similar boxes standing at isolated intervals in either direction, though there was no indication of how many of them might be occupied.
If he'd been able to use his powers he knew he'd have been out of there in no time, but that wasn't currently an option available to him. Much to his frustration these people had somehow gotten hold of some technology that had him – and presumably all the other New Mutants that had passed through their hands - neutralised
It wasn't a sub-dermal governor, not really. Quite apart from the difference in delivery method – this one being some sort of strap around his throat as opposed to the familiar stud drilling into the back of his neck – it didn't hurt when he tried to generate a blast to free himself from the electronically locking cuffs. It was just as if, when he attempted to access that place inside himself where his powers came from, it was hidden behind a soft spongy shield that just kept bouncing him out again.
A hard-faced man, introducing himself as Moncrief – clearly a professional soldier from his bearing and the comfortable way he carried off the all-black combat look – had visited him not long after he'd come round from the knockout dart that had floored him. He'd ignored Brennan's questions in favour of having him hauled upright, the chains pulled tight over a hook in the ceiling to force him up onto his toes while he asked a few of his own. Who are you, where are you from, what are you doing here, interspersed with blows to the stomach that the elemental had been largely able to disregard as unavoidable irritations.
What hadn't been so easy to get past was the cattle prod Moncrief had produced. It didn't have enough juice to completely disable, but it was sufficient to leave him twitching helplessly. He could only be grateful that his inquisitor had tired of his silence before his insecurities at this assault by something too closely resembling his own powers could reach the surface.
Brennan had decided quickly there wasn't much point in trying to plead innocence. He knew he could come up with some story about just being out for a stroll and not realising the place was off-limits, but he felt sure these people would already have found there was no car parked out there, and it was too far from the nearest town for them to have walked in. And since they'd already shown off their mutant abilities so obviously, he couldn't deny what he was. So, after his initial attempts at counter-demand and then levity had been punished, he'd just kept his mouth shut.
However, when they'd finally left, after thankfully dropping him back down to ground level again, it was with threats and promises of more - and worse - to come, along with the musing suggestion that his companion might prove more forthcoming. His own threats as to what he'd do to them if they tried were treated with the contempt only those in a seemingly unassailable position of authority can deliver, so he'd been reduced to taking his anxiety out on his surroundings.
Not that it had really taken his mind off things. And the renewed thought that these apes had inflicted the same treatment on Shalimar sent another wave of rage through him. Yanking in impotent fury at his shackles again, he yelled her name, praying that she was nearby and still alive.
Some distance away, Shalimar heard his call, and tried again to summon up her feral strength so she could bust her way out of this sweat-box and join him, get some payback on the bastards who'd had to resort to drugs to take them down instead of giving them a fighting chance. But although she could feel the familiar sensations start to rise through her, they seemed to hit an unexpected barrier and dissipate before they could be transformed into the force she needed. And she knew it was all to do with the flexible band wrapped snugly round her neck, the metal disk she could feel locking the ends together also serving as some sort of power pack if the slight jolt she got off it when she tried to break it free was anything to go by. Maybe Jesse or Adam would be able to explain how it worked, but all she knew was that it was somehow holding her prisoner as surely as the chains.
She'd endured an unpleasant session with what appeared to be the head honcho in this private army, though they didn't seem big on rank insignia. But the watchful gray eyes observing her from the deeply tanned face under close-cropped salt and pepper hair told of a man in total control of himself and his environment, and the way the two men with him jumped to his softly spoken orders just reinforced that impression.
Happily he'd been interrupted before he could really get going, a minion slipping through the door to whisper in his ear too quietly for her to pick up without the benefit of her ferally enhanced hearing. She'd seen something in his expression, though, a fleeting distaste manifested in the tightening mouth and the shadow that darkened his gaze before his impassivity reasserted itself that gave her reason to believe he wasn't completely enamoured with the prospect of whatever he was being summoned to.
And it was a pretty fair bet that, in that case, it was probably going to be something she wasn't going to like either. So, shouting back to Brennan that she was all right, she set herself to the unfamiliar task of finding some way other than simple animal strength to get herself out of trouble.
**
"Jesse? Jesse, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Sooner than he'd expected, Adam's voice blasted out of the speakers to reverberate round the Helix's cabin, his displeasure more than obvious. Jesse felt his stomach contract at the prospect of trying to explain himself to his mentor and with a touch of rebelliousness he considered just ignoring him completely. He knew from experience exactly what the older man was going to say and, if he was honest, he wasn't truly confident enough in his own motives and reasoning to believe he could make a totally watertight case for what he'd done. But he also knew in his heart that he'd had no choice but to do it.
"Dammit, Jesse, I know you can hear me - answer me!" Adam demanded heatedly, and he felt that little spark of rebellion grow, fed by the resurgence of the disbelief-become-anger that had swept through him at the news that the Helix was coming straight back to Sanctuary, despite being unable to raise either Shalimar or Brennan on their com-links to tell them so.
Even his vehement insistence that the lack of a signal had to mean trouble that needed immediate investigation had fallen on seemingly deaf ears. Adam had cut him off abruptly with harassed assurances that Emma would still be at the RV on time, that there was nothing to worry about, not yet, before the psionic's muffled voice had called him away to some unseen and, at that point, unexplained emergency.
It was all too easy, though, to let himself hear an underlying guilt that made Adam's words as much reassurance for the man himself, as they were to convince Jesse of their veracity. And that had kept the anger bubbling away fiercely enough to have him waiting at the hanger door when the plane arrived, ready to continue the debate.
But he'd got short shrift, even then. At least, that's what his already stretched nerves and over-worked imagination had told him, not helped by the way both Adam and Emma had pushed past him as they'd rushed their limp burden – could that really have been Joshua? – towards the lab. He thought now that Adam might have called back to him to come and help, which would have perhaps have allowed Emma to get started, but he'd been beyond listening by that point. All he'd been able to see was that half of his team, his family – including the person he cared most about in the world – was in danger, and the other half were doing nothing about it.
Which had seemed to leave him as the only one who could.
"Jesse? Are you there?" Adam tried again, perhaps marginally calmer, and Jesse could almost see Emma sitting down there trying to spread oil on the troubled waters of his temper. But that didn't mean he was going to make life any easier for him once he got hold of him and his resistance started to dissipate under the weight of that knowledge.
The faintest whiff of burnt fuel drifted past him, though, carried on the air that circulated the cabin and bringing with it horrifyingly vibrant reminders of what it was that had ultimately driven him here. And armed with that renewed stimulus, he answered, "Yes, I'm here."
"Well?"
"Well what?" he hit back. "Are you going to tell me to get my butt back there again? Can't do it, Adam."
"Damn right I am. You're in no condition to be flying, let alone doing whatever else you have in mind!"
"You *know* what I have in mind – what you should have been doing!" He chose to ignore the slur on his fitness, despite the fact that by all accounts it was probably true. Though he'd never admit it, he was beginning to regret his decision to take off on his own just a little. The surging emotion that had carried him on board was fading, dulled by his body's sudden penchant for random swings of temperature that had him sweating profusely at one moment only to be huddled shivering into his too thin jacket the next, and his already depleted energy levels were dropping in harmony.
"I told you," Adam said, irritably, "we had a medical emergency. Emma was all set to go and pick Brennan and Shalimar up, though – only to find you'd taken her ride."
"And if they weren't there for her to pick up? What then?" He didn't like the plaintive note that crept unsummoned into his voice, and took a quick steadying breath as he repeated more firmly. "What was she going to do if they weren't there?"
"There's nothing yet to say they won't be." But Jesse heard the guilt again, certain this time that Adam was, as much as anything, trying to persuade himself of that fact.
Emma broke in. "I'm not really sensing that they're in trouble, Jess. Please, come back and let's talk about this. Or at least let me come with you. You don't have to do this alone."
For a moment, there was nothing he would have liked better. But a glance at the chronometer on the console in front of him told him he couldn't afford that luxury. "No, there's no time," he whispered, adding louder, "Sunset – I have to find her before sunset."
There was a brief confused silence before the expected, "What? Why?"
"Because that's when it happens – I saw it..." The images were back, dancing across his vision as the sweat broke out on his forehead again. "I have to be there before then, find her..."
Another pause, then Adam's voice came again, his tone carefully measured. "When what happens? Tell me what you saw, Jesse. Tell me what you saw, then explain to me how you think rushing off down there in your current state will make a difference."
His resolve faltered again in the face of such a reasonably posed query, his chest tightening and insides knotting as he attempted yet again to put his fears into words. But all he could manage was, "I don't know... I just need to be there, to try and change things."
"Change what, Jesse?" The exasperation was back. "You're not thinking straight. All you're going to do is put everyone in danger, including yourself."
That stung, twisting the tail of his latent resentment and scratching at the feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that festered far too close to the surface. "But you've just said there's no indication they're in danger," he responded, with more than a dash of belligerence. "So what's the difference between me picking them up and Emma doing it?" There was no instant reply to that, but he didn't wait more than a few seconds before going on. "I'm not going to do anything stupid, Adam, give me credit for that at least. If they aren't waiting at the RV, I'll see if I can track them with the sensors. If they are in trouble, you know I have more chance of finding them and getting in undetected alone."
"If they *are* in trouble, what do you think you can do about it by yourself? Jesse, this is insane!"
Jesse could feel the tremors running through his body, a combination of the aggrieved tension building in him and another bout of the shivers, as he said fiercely, "I'm doing this, Adam. If you can't just wish me luck, I guess there's nothing more to say. I'll be in touch when I have some news. Off." He sat back and unconsciously rubbed a hand down across his face, almost unable to believe his own audacity.
"Well, that sure told him – feel better now?"
"What the...?" Snapping his head round so fast he almost broke something, he searched the darkened space behind him for the source of the words and found it in the shape of Connie, only able to watch in stunned amazement as she levered herself up off the floor behind one of the consoles and moved forward to plonk herself down in the seat next to him.
"You might want to close your mouth before you catch something," she went on cheerfully, straightening the low cut top he vaguely recognised as belonging to one of the girls and shaking her hair into place.
"What are you doing here? How did you get on board?" He fixed her with his best steely glare even though he doubted it would have any effect on her at all.
He was right; she just shrugged with a small knowing smile. "I heard Adam give you the brush-off and just knew what your next move would be. Technically I'm still supposed to be keeping an eye on you, since no-one actually relieved me – so I followed you, snuck in just before the doors closed. I guess you were too busy trying to get this baby away before anyone could stop you to notice."
Grimly, he persisted with his attempts to cow her. "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you," she retorted, "but that's not stopping you." When he didn't answer, she went on. "Hey, I was going stir-crazy in there – how do you guys survive with no daylight, no fresh air? It's not natural." She paused again, peering at him more carefully. "Are you OK? You don't look it. I bet you didn't take those tablets Adam left out for you, did you? I bet..."
"Don't you *ever* stop talking?" he snapped, turning away ostensibly to check on the controls but really wanting to conceal the unavoidable effects of that pain stabbing into his chest again, a burst of coughing hot on its heels. When he glanced up again, though, she was watching him in blank-faced silence, eyes hidden under the shadow of her hair.
"Sorry," he mumbled, his normal conciliatory nature kicking in, but she just stared at him without expression for a few long moments before looking deliberately away.
"Suit yourself." With an uneven sigh, he leant back and closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about what he was getting himself in to.
**
"Ah, Moncrief, good. Armstrong tells me you picked up two intruders – after they'd taken out a squad of your people. I thought you had them trained to deal with these freaks. Isn't that what I'm paying you for?"
Closing the door behind him, Moncrief turned to watch the slim man with the obviously dyed-black hair pace impatiently around the small office off the high-tech control centre from which this highly clandestine and unusual operation was run. As always, his employer was dressed in expensive smart-casual clothes, the gold Rolex Oyster Perpetual and diamond-studded pinky ring just serving to confirm the wealth their owner could call on, but they couldn't really disguise what lay underneath - the bitter soul-twisting rage that no amount of money could cure.
It wasn't his place to point out the futility of such emotion, though, no matter that he'd already learnt that lesson the hard way.
"They know how to handle them," he assured him. "But this pair is... different, stronger than the others we've encountered. I have a feeling I know who they are, where they came from – I was just going to check the database to confirm it."
"I don't care who they are! If they've found this place there may be others coming. I want them destroyed – today, while I'm here. And any others you have locked in the coops." An unhealthy light gleamed in the momentarily fetid depths of the dark eyes. "Make it a good show, though – if they're that strong they deserve a fitting send-off. Something imaginative, something the men will enjoy."
There it was again, Moncrief thought with an inward frown, another step down the road to turning what had initially been positioned to him as a public service into a private spectacle.
It had been pretty straightforward at the beginning, but he was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the way things had been changing in recent days. Instead of the simple traditional executions befitting the crime they'd originally agreed on - a bullet in the head for those who played the mind games, the electric chair for the ones who plundered the elements for their own use, cyanide gas for the shape and density shifters and lethal injection to put the animals down – DeSalles had started to demand more creative ways of exterminating the 'vermin' as he called them. And Moncrief was starting to wonder just how close to insanity the man's lust for retribution was taking him.
But, he reminded himself, he didn't have to like what he was doing. He was just a mercenary, paid - and paid extortionately well - to do a job, like at least half of the men he was currently in charge of. And they'd all seen and done a lot worse in their time, without letting their personal feelings get in the way. The other half was a different matter, though – redneck hard cases playing at soldiers to feed their lust for violence, only in it for the pleasure they got from the chase and the kill, and he found it hard sometimes to hide his distaste for their methods, however effective they might be.
"This one." DeSalles interrupted his musing from where he'd come to rest in front of a chart pinned to one wall, a finger tapping one of the boxes marked on it. "We'll start with this one. And I have the perfect method in mind."
****
Swearing to stick to free range eggs for the rest of his life, Brennan tried for the tenth time in half that many minutes to find a way to release himself – and with no more success than had met the previous nine attempts. The cuffed chains that looped his wrists and ankles together and attached him to the stout post forming the backbone of his cramped accommodation just rattled mockingly at him as he exerted his not inconsiderable strength against them, but refused to give.
He awkwardly wiped at the sweat dripping into his eyes as he took a breather, hunching down against the wall. The crate-like, up-ended oblong he was being held in was like a sauna, its flat roof absorbing the afternoon sun's heat and the slatted wooden sides allowing reflected light from the dusty rock-strewn ground to bounce in and add to the effect. Those slats also allowed him just enough space to see several similar boxes standing at isolated intervals in either direction, though there was no indication of how many of them might be occupied.
If he'd been able to use his powers he knew he'd have been out of there in no time, but that wasn't currently an option available to him. Much to his frustration these people had somehow gotten hold of some technology that had him – and presumably all the other New Mutants that had passed through their hands - neutralised
It wasn't a sub-dermal governor, not really. Quite apart from the difference in delivery method – this one being some sort of strap around his throat as opposed to the familiar stud drilling into the back of his neck – it didn't hurt when he tried to generate a blast to free himself from the electronically locking cuffs. It was just as if, when he attempted to access that place inside himself where his powers came from, it was hidden behind a soft spongy shield that just kept bouncing him out again.
A hard-faced man, introducing himself as Moncrief – clearly a professional soldier from his bearing and the comfortable way he carried off the all-black combat look – had visited him not long after he'd come round from the knockout dart that had floored him. He'd ignored Brennan's questions in favour of having him hauled upright, the chains pulled tight over a hook in the ceiling to force him up onto his toes while he asked a few of his own. Who are you, where are you from, what are you doing here, interspersed with blows to the stomach that the elemental had been largely able to disregard as unavoidable irritations.
What hadn't been so easy to get past was the cattle prod Moncrief had produced. It didn't have enough juice to completely disable, but it was sufficient to leave him twitching helplessly. He could only be grateful that his inquisitor had tired of his silence before his insecurities at this assault by something too closely resembling his own powers could reach the surface.
Brennan had decided quickly there wasn't much point in trying to plead innocence. He knew he could come up with some story about just being out for a stroll and not realising the place was off-limits, but he felt sure these people would already have found there was no car parked out there, and it was too far from the nearest town for them to have walked in. And since they'd already shown off their mutant abilities so obviously, he couldn't deny what he was. So, after his initial attempts at counter-demand and then levity had been punished, he'd just kept his mouth shut.
However, when they'd finally left, after thankfully dropping him back down to ground level again, it was with threats and promises of more - and worse - to come, along with the musing suggestion that his companion might prove more forthcoming. His own threats as to what he'd do to them if they tried were treated with the contempt only those in a seemingly unassailable position of authority can deliver, so he'd been reduced to taking his anxiety out on his surroundings.
Not that it had really taken his mind off things. And the renewed thought that these apes had inflicted the same treatment on Shalimar sent another wave of rage through him. Yanking in impotent fury at his shackles again, he yelled her name, praying that she was nearby and still alive.
Some distance away, Shalimar heard his call, and tried again to summon up her feral strength so she could bust her way out of this sweat-box and join him, get some payback on the bastards who'd had to resort to drugs to take them down instead of giving them a fighting chance. But although she could feel the familiar sensations start to rise through her, they seemed to hit an unexpected barrier and dissipate before they could be transformed into the force she needed. And she knew it was all to do with the flexible band wrapped snugly round her neck, the metal disk she could feel locking the ends together also serving as some sort of power pack if the slight jolt she got off it when she tried to break it free was anything to go by. Maybe Jesse or Adam would be able to explain how it worked, but all she knew was that it was somehow holding her prisoner as surely as the chains.
She'd endured an unpleasant session with what appeared to be the head honcho in this private army, though they didn't seem big on rank insignia. But the watchful gray eyes observing her from the deeply tanned face under close-cropped salt and pepper hair told of a man in total control of himself and his environment, and the way the two men with him jumped to his softly spoken orders just reinforced that impression.
Happily he'd been interrupted before he could really get going, a minion slipping through the door to whisper in his ear too quietly for her to pick up without the benefit of her ferally enhanced hearing. She'd seen something in his expression, though, a fleeting distaste manifested in the tightening mouth and the shadow that darkened his gaze before his impassivity reasserted itself that gave her reason to believe he wasn't completely enamoured with the prospect of whatever he was being summoned to.
And it was a pretty fair bet that, in that case, it was probably going to be something she wasn't going to like either. So, shouting back to Brennan that she was all right, she set herself to the unfamiliar task of finding some way other than simple animal strength to get herself out of trouble.
**
"Jesse? Jesse, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Sooner than he'd expected, Adam's voice blasted out of the speakers to reverberate round the Helix's cabin, his displeasure more than obvious. Jesse felt his stomach contract at the prospect of trying to explain himself to his mentor and with a touch of rebelliousness he considered just ignoring him completely. He knew from experience exactly what the older man was going to say and, if he was honest, he wasn't truly confident enough in his own motives and reasoning to believe he could make a totally watertight case for what he'd done. But he also knew in his heart that he'd had no choice but to do it.
"Dammit, Jesse, I know you can hear me - answer me!" Adam demanded heatedly, and he felt that little spark of rebellion grow, fed by the resurgence of the disbelief-become-anger that had swept through him at the news that the Helix was coming straight back to Sanctuary, despite being unable to raise either Shalimar or Brennan on their com-links to tell them so.
Even his vehement insistence that the lack of a signal had to mean trouble that needed immediate investigation had fallen on seemingly deaf ears. Adam had cut him off abruptly with harassed assurances that Emma would still be at the RV on time, that there was nothing to worry about, not yet, before the psionic's muffled voice had called him away to some unseen and, at that point, unexplained emergency.
It was all too easy, though, to let himself hear an underlying guilt that made Adam's words as much reassurance for the man himself, as they were to convince Jesse of their veracity. And that had kept the anger bubbling away fiercely enough to have him waiting at the hanger door when the plane arrived, ready to continue the debate.
But he'd got short shrift, even then. At least, that's what his already stretched nerves and over-worked imagination had told him, not helped by the way both Adam and Emma had pushed past him as they'd rushed their limp burden – could that really have been Joshua? – towards the lab. He thought now that Adam might have called back to him to come and help, which would have perhaps have allowed Emma to get started, but he'd been beyond listening by that point. All he'd been able to see was that half of his team, his family – including the person he cared most about in the world – was in danger, and the other half were doing nothing about it.
Which had seemed to leave him as the only one who could.
"Jesse? Are you there?" Adam tried again, perhaps marginally calmer, and Jesse could almost see Emma sitting down there trying to spread oil on the troubled waters of his temper. But that didn't mean he was going to make life any easier for him once he got hold of him and his resistance started to dissipate under the weight of that knowledge.
The faintest whiff of burnt fuel drifted past him, though, carried on the air that circulated the cabin and bringing with it horrifyingly vibrant reminders of what it was that had ultimately driven him here. And armed with that renewed stimulus, he answered, "Yes, I'm here."
"Well?"
"Well what?" he hit back. "Are you going to tell me to get my butt back there again? Can't do it, Adam."
"Damn right I am. You're in no condition to be flying, let alone doing whatever else you have in mind!"
"You *know* what I have in mind – what you should have been doing!" He chose to ignore the slur on his fitness, despite the fact that by all accounts it was probably true. Though he'd never admit it, he was beginning to regret his decision to take off on his own just a little. The surging emotion that had carried him on board was fading, dulled by his body's sudden penchant for random swings of temperature that had him sweating profusely at one moment only to be huddled shivering into his too thin jacket the next, and his already depleted energy levels were dropping in harmony.
"I told you," Adam said, irritably, "we had a medical emergency. Emma was all set to go and pick Brennan and Shalimar up, though – only to find you'd taken her ride."
"And if they weren't there for her to pick up? What then?" He didn't like the plaintive note that crept unsummoned into his voice, and took a quick steadying breath as he repeated more firmly. "What was she going to do if they weren't there?"
"There's nothing yet to say they won't be." But Jesse heard the guilt again, certain this time that Adam was, as much as anything, trying to persuade himself of that fact.
Emma broke in. "I'm not really sensing that they're in trouble, Jess. Please, come back and let's talk about this. Or at least let me come with you. You don't have to do this alone."
For a moment, there was nothing he would have liked better. But a glance at the chronometer on the console in front of him told him he couldn't afford that luxury. "No, there's no time," he whispered, adding louder, "Sunset – I have to find her before sunset."
There was a brief confused silence before the expected, "What? Why?"
"Because that's when it happens – I saw it..." The images were back, dancing across his vision as the sweat broke out on his forehead again. "I have to be there before then, find her..."
Another pause, then Adam's voice came again, his tone carefully measured. "When what happens? Tell me what you saw, Jesse. Tell me what you saw, then explain to me how you think rushing off down there in your current state will make a difference."
His resolve faltered again in the face of such a reasonably posed query, his chest tightening and insides knotting as he attempted yet again to put his fears into words. But all he could manage was, "I don't know... I just need to be there, to try and change things."
"Change what, Jesse?" The exasperation was back. "You're not thinking straight. All you're going to do is put everyone in danger, including yourself."
That stung, twisting the tail of his latent resentment and scratching at the feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that festered far too close to the surface. "But you've just said there's no indication they're in danger," he responded, with more than a dash of belligerence. "So what's the difference between me picking them up and Emma doing it?" There was no instant reply to that, but he didn't wait more than a few seconds before going on. "I'm not going to do anything stupid, Adam, give me credit for that at least. If they aren't waiting at the RV, I'll see if I can track them with the sensors. If they are in trouble, you know I have more chance of finding them and getting in undetected alone."
"If they *are* in trouble, what do you think you can do about it by yourself? Jesse, this is insane!"
Jesse could feel the tremors running through his body, a combination of the aggrieved tension building in him and another bout of the shivers, as he said fiercely, "I'm doing this, Adam. If you can't just wish me luck, I guess there's nothing more to say. I'll be in touch when I have some news. Off." He sat back and unconsciously rubbed a hand down across his face, almost unable to believe his own audacity.
"Well, that sure told him – feel better now?"
"What the...?" Snapping his head round so fast he almost broke something, he searched the darkened space behind him for the source of the words and found it in the shape of Connie, only able to watch in stunned amazement as she levered herself up off the floor behind one of the consoles and moved forward to plonk herself down in the seat next to him.
"You might want to close your mouth before you catch something," she went on cheerfully, straightening the low cut top he vaguely recognised as belonging to one of the girls and shaking her hair into place.
"What are you doing here? How did you get on board?" He fixed her with his best steely glare even though he doubted it would have any effect on her at all.
He was right; she just shrugged with a small knowing smile. "I heard Adam give you the brush-off and just knew what your next move would be. Technically I'm still supposed to be keeping an eye on you, since no-one actually relieved me – so I followed you, snuck in just before the doors closed. I guess you were too busy trying to get this baby away before anyone could stop you to notice."
Grimly, he persisted with his attempts to cow her. "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you," she retorted, "but that's not stopping you." When he didn't answer, she went on. "Hey, I was going stir-crazy in there – how do you guys survive with no daylight, no fresh air? It's not natural." She paused again, peering at him more carefully. "Are you OK? You don't look it. I bet you didn't take those tablets Adam left out for you, did you? I bet..."
"Don't you *ever* stop talking?" he snapped, turning away ostensibly to check on the controls but really wanting to conceal the unavoidable effects of that pain stabbing into his chest again, a burst of coughing hot on its heels. When he glanced up again, though, she was watching him in blank-faced silence, eyes hidden under the shadow of her hair.
"Sorry," he mumbled, his normal conciliatory nature kicking in, but she just stared at him without expression for a few long moments before looking deliberately away.
"Suit yourself." With an uneven sigh, he leant back and closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about what he was getting himself in to.
**
"Ah, Moncrief, good. Armstrong tells me you picked up two intruders – after they'd taken out a squad of your people. I thought you had them trained to deal with these freaks. Isn't that what I'm paying you for?"
Closing the door behind him, Moncrief turned to watch the slim man with the obviously dyed-black hair pace impatiently around the small office off the high-tech control centre from which this highly clandestine and unusual operation was run. As always, his employer was dressed in expensive smart-casual clothes, the gold Rolex Oyster Perpetual and diamond-studded pinky ring just serving to confirm the wealth their owner could call on, but they couldn't really disguise what lay underneath - the bitter soul-twisting rage that no amount of money could cure.
It wasn't his place to point out the futility of such emotion, though, no matter that he'd already learnt that lesson the hard way.
"They know how to handle them," he assured him. "But this pair is... different, stronger than the others we've encountered. I have a feeling I know who they are, where they came from – I was just going to check the database to confirm it."
"I don't care who they are! If they've found this place there may be others coming. I want them destroyed – today, while I'm here. And any others you have locked in the coops." An unhealthy light gleamed in the momentarily fetid depths of the dark eyes. "Make it a good show, though – if they're that strong they deserve a fitting send-off. Something imaginative, something the men will enjoy."
There it was again, Moncrief thought with an inward frown, another step down the road to turning what had initially been positioned to him as a public service into a private spectacle.
It had been pretty straightforward at the beginning, but he was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the way things had been changing in recent days. Instead of the simple traditional executions befitting the crime they'd originally agreed on - a bullet in the head for those who played the mind games, the electric chair for the ones who plundered the elements for their own use, cyanide gas for the shape and density shifters and lethal injection to put the animals down – DeSalles had started to demand more creative ways of exterminating the 'vermin' as he called them. And Moncrief was starting to wonder just how close to insanity the man's lust for retribution was taking him.
But, he reminded himself, he didn't have to like what he was doing. He was just a mercenary, paid - and paid extortionately well - to do a job, like at least half of the men he was currently in charge of. And they'd all seen and done a lot worse in their time, without letting their personal feelings get in the way. The other half was a different matter, though – redneck hard cases playing at soldiers to feed their lust for violence, only in it for the pleasure they got from the chase and the kill, and he found it hard sometimes to hide his distaste for their methods, however effective they might be.
"This one." DeSalles interrupted his musing from where he'd come to rest in front of a chart pinned to one wall, a finger tapping one of the boxes marked on it. "We'll start with this one. And I have the perfect method in mind."
****