BLUE GENDER

"Children of the Blue"

4. Double Edge

The supply depot sat in a clearing that had cut two square miles of concrete out of the middle of the jungle. A gate and a road led away to the north; two long warehouses sat parallel to one another on the eastern side of the depot, and four large fuel tanks rested in the northeastern quadrant.

The two transports were parked opposite the warehouses. Four red and white clad infantrymen sat lazily in the shade of the transport's nose cone between its two massive cargo hatches.

Two additional men, dressed in technicians' overalls, operated the fuel truck that was just beginning to feed the second air ship. One of these men was monitoring the gauges on the side of the fuel truck, the other struggling to attach the hose to the bird.

Various drums, crates, a burned out vehicle, and other assorted eyesores were strewn around the walls of the buildings.

The first armored shrike—a variation of a heavy-duty shrike that had obviously been modified from cannibalized parts—was to the north, beyond the transports, near the main gate.

The second (which was a beat up older model probably dating back to the early days of armored personal mechanized fighters) was in the southwestern quadrant of the depot and on the move with its back toward Marlene as it patrolled the perimeter.

Marlene burst through the southern tree line heading north.

All these details were secondary to Marlene Angel. She was concentrated on the small group of individuals who had exited the northern most warehouse and were headed toward the open cargo bay on the transport furthest away from her position.

One of those in the group was the man who had attacked her at the village—the man with the scar now wearing a crimson military uniform with four stars.

Another in this group was her son, who was being hurriedly shuffled toward that open cargo hatch.

Marlene could hear the air ship's engines spool to life.

She jogged forward and cocked the grenade launcher on the front of her heavy assault rifle. As she moved she lobbed the shell in the direction of the relaxing infantrymen.

The weapon hit the underside of the nose cone of the craft, letting loose a volley of hellish shrapnel that fell upon the unsuspecting mercenaries like a deadly rain of fire.

One of the men—he had been standing—was all but decapitated by the explosion. His body fell limp as if it had only been a mannequin waiting for a fast breeze to knock it over.

Another was mortally wounded and rolled about clutching his neck.

The remaining two were hurt but had enough sense to get moving.

The explosion drew the attention of the scar-faced man and his entourage as they came within a few steps of their getaway vehicle. He pointed toward her—still a couple hundred yards away—and three of his bodyguards put her in their sights.

Marlene hurried and angled her trajectory toward the first warehouse. There was a dumpster and some old rusted barrels there that might provide cover.

The soldier inside told her how foolish this attack was—she was outnumbered and outgunned. She should have waited for Captain Junker to call in the full compliment of shrikes.

The mother inside had overruled the soldier—the kidnappers were making off with her son. Once they got in the air Takashi might be gone forever. She could not wait. She'd rather die trying then let him slip away without a fight.

The two injured mercs underneath the transport brought their weapons to bare. A volley of bullets streaked past Marlene as she neared the corner of the warehouse.

She held her weapon side ways and fired wildly as she moved—firing on full automatic.

The initial explosion had shocked these two enemies and so they were easy to suppress; they staggered backward hoping to find cover beneath the transport. Their shock would not last, but it did buy Marlene time.

Marlene was just about to the warehouse when she felt her entire body get thrown through the air. Only after she was air borne did she hear the explosion that had splintered the tarmac on her left.

She hit the ground and rolled at first uncontrollably and, then, purposely toward the dumpster at the corner of the warehouse.

The soldier-turned-mother-turned soldier once more felt the burning sting of light shrapnel on her thigh and in her shoulder. She could hear pieces of the hot fragments sizzling in her upper body armor.

Her head was foggy—no doubt a concussion, mild at best--had just been dealt to her.

She ignored it all.

She popped up from behind cover to see the second mecha—the one from the southwest area—moving across the concrete field in her direction. It had let loose an explosive volley that had been short of its target, otherwise Marlene would have been peppered with much more shrapnel and her quest would've ended abruptly.

She noticed that this shrike—this older model—had one notable upgrade: a gattling gun most likely stolen from a heavy-duty mech. That gun began to rotate.

Marlene knew what was coming and ducked behind the metal dumpster. She heard the hailstorm of rounds rip into the metal container and spark—she wondered if its walls would be strong enough to keep the bullets at bay.

Even over the torrent of gunfire she could hear the first transport's engines start to build to a crescendo. Her time was running out…fast.

Marlene Angel, sensing no other option, decided to commit suicide.

She came around the dumpster with her rifle blazing bullets and letting fly two grenades—the last two in the weapon.

Some of the bullets hit the red and white shrike; most went flying past it hitting nothing but thin air. One grenade hit its left leg but didn't do much more than ruin the paint job. The second grenade went wide.

The gattling gun stopped firing at the dumpster and swiveled to track the now-moving target. At only fifty yards and in the open she was an easy hit, even for the most novice of mech drivers.

Then the right arm of the red and white shrike exploded. The whole armored vehicle tipped and nearly fell.

Marlene looked to her left.

Gunther Gerhardt's modified heavy-duty shrike led the others from the southern tree line. She knew it was Gerhardt's: she recognized the spray-painted heart with the word "Mother" written inside that decorated the right "shoulder" of the vehicle.

Marlene didn't have time to celebrate. While her comrades dealt a series of deadly rounds to the armored foe she returned to her pursuit of the first transport.

Blocking her path was the fuel truck and its two technicians. They had pulled pistols and were taking aim. However, the newly arriving shrikes made them rethink their position.

Marlene didn't care. She fired on them nonetheless. Her shots riddled one and wounded the other.

She started to run again but found that her legs weren't willing to comply. The shrapnel in her left one was slowing her down. She pleaded with it to move faster but it would not cooperate. The best she could do was a fast walk.

She was vaguely aware that the shrike to her left was burning—she could hear the screams of the driver. She took a perverse pleasure in hearing him suffer. They should all suffer!

She was also vaguely aware that her cohorts were dispatching the remaining two infantrymen under the second transport.

But what stole her complete attention was the last remaining barrier between her and the first transport—the first armored shrike flanked by the three bodyguards.

Oddly enough they were not advancing on her, just holding their position like a line in the sand.

A wind nearly blew Marlene over. It was the wake of Captain Junker's shrike as it roared past her directly at the remaining enemies. A second shrike—"Pistol" Jones' unit—stopped next to her and extended its free arm.

"Get on!" The pilot yelled.

Marlene grabbed hold as best she could and they moved forward.

The enemy infantry began to fall back toward the open cargo door. The engines of the transport were at full power.

Then the enemy shrike did something strange. A compartment opened and a couple of keg-shaped canisters rolled forward and away from it. A moment later and those canisters began spewing a thick smoke screen.

"No! No!" Marlene screamed as her ride raced across the ground.

She heard the unmistakable 'clang' of a closing hatch followed by the equally undeniable sound of a transport lifting off.

She watched as Junker's mecha disappeared behind the veil of smoke then, two second later, Jones drove them through that smoke as well.

They stopped next to the Captain's ride and Marlene jumped from the mech's arm—her leg buckled beneath her and she fell to her knees.

She reached skyward with her hand as if she might be able to grab the fleeing craft, but it was no use. The transport rose up, out, over, and beyond the jungle trees…taking her son with it.

***

"Hold still," Junker said as he finished wrapping the bandage around the pants of her uniform leg.

Marlene had no intention of holding still. She barked orders to her people.

"Moss, Denise—check these warehouses. Look for anything that could have anything to do with the poison they stuck in Yuji. Pistol, check on the transport they left behind—the front is a little damaged but it should still fly."

Gunther spoke: "What you do wit 'dees two?"

He was referring to their two prisoners—one was one of the body-armored mercs from under the nose cone, the other a wounded technician who had been operating the refueling truck. Both were injured but not mortally. Gunther had them on the ground sitting against the wall of the first warehouse.

"Wait on them," she said, then flinched as Junker took off her shoulder armor.

Junker, surprisingly bashful to the point of sounding like an embarrassed kid, told her: "Marlene, I'm going to need to clean the wound, it took a heck—"

Marlene had no modesty. She knew what he needed to do and she quickly, albeit painfully, pulled off her tunic. The wound was low on her shoulder above her left breast.

"Fix it," she commanded.

Junker did as he was told, although his older hands shook not from age but from nerves. He still had a fair share of modesty.

He pulled a small piece of metal from her bare skin then used a first aid kit to start stitching the deep cut. She would have a scar. He figured that she had lots of scars from her years as a soldier, most of which weren't visible on the surface.

"When you're done," she went on, "get the transmitter out. Run the antenna up on one of these buildings so we can contact the village."

"Yeah, sure, right."

She noticed Gunther was looking at her.

She scowled and said—perhaps too nastily—"What? You've never seen a tit before?"

Gunther looked away and muttered something that sounded like "sorry".

Junker jumped so fast he nearly stuck the needle straight through her shoulder. Still, it only took a few more minutes until he was done, the wound was bandaged, and she was covered again.

Marlene strolled over to the two men sitting on the ground. The first—the infantryman--was rough looking with wild eyes. She could tell this was no professional soldier—some bandit or mercenary that had managed to get his hands on quality armor and gear.

The second was shaking and mumbling nervously.

She pulled her pistol from its holster on her back. She cocked the slide.

She asked the infantryman: "Where did they take my son?"

The brute sneered and told her: "Bite me."

In one fluid motion she pointed the gun at his forehead and pulled the trigger. His brains exploded like morbid fireworks against the warehouse wall.

Marlene walked over to the second prisoner.

"Where did they take my son?"

He couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"Houston! Houston! Don't kill me…don't kill me…."

"What's in Houston?"

He eagerly told her: "Another refueling station! Please don't kill me!"

"Who took him? Why?"

"I don't know why…I'm just a mechanic…I work on the shrikes…"

She repeated: "Who took him?"

"General Deeves! He's in charge of our group! People pay him—people pay us—to do things. Someone paid him!"

Marlene knew that "pay" wasn't money like in the ancient days. Pay was probably food, or ammunition, or other resources valuable for survival.

"What about the poison you used? Where's the antidote?" She lowered the gun directly in his face for effect.

"I don't know about any poison," he clambered. "I didn't go on the raid—I stayed here to watch the transports."

She didn't seem satisfied.

The man offered: "We unloaded a bunch of stuff in the warehouse. Maybe something is in there?!"

The voice of Darren Moss interrupted her interrogation as he emerged from between the two main, sliding doors of the warehouse that were in the process of rolling open.

"Marlene! You need to see this!"

She spoke to Gunther: "Watch him."

"Ya."

Gunther was still shaking—possibly from the tit; maybe from the exploded head of their first prisoner; probably some combination of both.

Marlene walked in to the warehouse. Daylight drifted in behind her.

There was a palette of crates and boxes partially covered by a tarp. In front of that stack was something she hadn't seen in a long, long time.

"Is that what I think it is?" Denise Karr stared at the behemoth.

Marlene let her eyes adjust. The metal beast was shiny and new—it looked as if it had never been used.

"Yes," she told them. "It's a double edge."

"For the sleeper brigades, right?" Moss added.

Marlene nodded her head.

"What the hell is going on here?" Denise Karr wondered for them all.

***

"Marlene? Marlene, is that you?" It was Dr. Gamble's voice coming over the transmitter. Junker had assembled it on top of a crate outside of the warehouse.

"Yes. How's Yuji?"

"Not good, Marlene," came the static-filled reply. "Did you find the antidote? Did you find the poison? What about Takashi?"

Marlene dreaded saying the words: "We're…I'm still looking for my son. We found a warehouse full of military supplies including a double edge armor shrike, the kind Yuji used to pilot."

Dr. Gamble's distant voice repeated the question: "Did you find the antidote? Or the poison?"

She hesitated then admitted: "No. Nothing like that."

There was a lag in response from the village. Marlene became afraid that they had lost the signal. Finally the doctor's voice—a resolved, saddened voice—returned.

"It doesn't matter what else you found, Marlene. Without an antidote—without at least the poison itself…Marlene, Yuji is going to die."

He repeated once more: "Yuji is going to die."

NEXT FACTOR:

5. Reconstitute

Chief Fuentes: "Things are bad…my son is gone…young Yuji is near death…and now our village faces a threat that we haven't faced in a decade…the Blue are coming, and I don't think we can stop them."