The beach was great. Not just 'oh, how pretty' but absolutely wonderful. The sand was white and hot beneath their bare feet, and Brennan was glad to be able to put down a blanket and stand on it for a moment before setting up alow chair on which to sit. Shalimar plunked down beside him, already pulling out the sun block for her fair skin.

"We've been to some nice places," she observed, "but this ranks up there with the nicest."

"Um," Brennan agreed, looking out over the clear blue-green water, the waves lapping in onto the shore. "Got to get Adam to have more friends in places like these." He grinned, mischief sparking his eyes. "Poor Jess. Has to help in the lab instead of lying on the sand. Comes from being a computer nerd. That'll teach him."

"We'll get him out here. Him, and Adam too. They're both too pale," Shalimar promised, looking up as a shadow fell upon the blanket. It was another one of the shark mutants, a tiger shark by the look of the faint stripes across his back. "Hi, there. This is a really nice place for a base camp. I could get used to this real easy."

"What are you doing here?" There was no welcome in the mutant soldier's voice.

Obviously they had done something wrong, but Brennan couldn't figure out what. He blinked. "I'm sorry; is this beach off-limits? There weren't any signs posted."

"This is our side," the tiger shark growled. "You've got the rest of the island, lubber; you've penned us in. Where the hell do you want us to go? Or maybe you like swimming with the sharks? Got one of those rods handy?"

Shalimar put up her hands. "Hey, back off, buddy. Honest mistake. You don't want us here, we're leaving. Right, Brennan?"

"Right," Brennan started to say when Blue dashed up.

"Miss Fox! Mulwray!" He turned to the tiger shark. "It's okay, Danzig; stay deep. These are the guys I was telling you about, the ones that came in yesterday."

"They're not sharks," Danzig insisted.

"No, but they're mutants, Danzig. They understand, them and the scientist guy that Morrison called in. Take it deep."

"Him." Danzig indicated Brennan, pointing a finger. The menacing air grew more vicious.

"Yeah, I know. But the lieutenant'll get it sorted out. Go deep, Danzig." Blue stepped in front of the big tiger shark, his own bulk dwarfed by the larger man. Teeth glinted briefly. "Take it deep. Now. The lieutenant'll handle this," he repeated. It didn't matter that Blue was a private, and Danzig with more chevrons on his sleeve. Blue didn't back down.

Nictating membranes flipped over blackened round eyes, then slid back into hiding. The menace receded but just barely. Danzig stepped away. "You better be right about this, Blue."

"I will be," Blue promised.

With a final glare, Danzig took himself down to the shoreline and dove into an oncoming wave, the gesture clean and knife-like. There was no sign of the shark-mutant after that, nothing to say that he had ever been on the beach with Shalimar and Brennan except for the leftover adrenaline that Brennan felt. "What was that?" he asked. "What did we do? This beach off-limits or something?"

"Something like that." Blue helped them pick up the blanket and shake out the sand. Brennan folded up his chair, still puzzled.

"Well?" Shalimar wasn't about to let it go without an explanation.

Blue sighed. "This is shark territory."

"We got that. Loud and clear."

Another sigh. Blue shrugged, deciding to come clean. "You've figured out by now that relations between us and the lubbers aren't too cordial."

"'Lubbers'?"

"Land-lubbers," Blue elucidated. "They call us sharkies, we call them lubbers. Behind their backs, of course. Most of the time. When we aren't calling each other something worse."
"And this beach?"

Blue jerked his thumb out at the waves. "You can't see it, but there's a fence out there to keep us in. Keep us from straying too far from the island."

"A fence," Brennan repeated. "How far out?"

"A couple miles or so. Not a real fence," Blue elaborated. "Not one made out of stone or wire. But it might as well be a real fence, for all the good that it does us. Bayliss's people strung up an electric field about five miles out. We have enough territory to feed—just barely—but we can't leave this island. No shore leave, no sight-seeing in the underwater caves around the reefs ten miles out on the shoal. Hell, we can't even go to the next island ten miles away. 'Scuse the language, Miss Fox," he added.

Shalimar moved in on the important part of the discussion. "So they don't trust you to stick around? Afraid you'll swim off and never be seen again?"

"Something like that." It was the first grin they'd seen from Blue today. "Believe me, there are a bunch of us who think that's a pretty decent idea. Sure, there's a few sixteen-footers out in those waves, but they wouldn't bother us much. Bayliss keeps saying the fence is to protect us from the Great Whites, but those of us on this side of the fence have our doubts. We know better." He finished helping Shalimar fold the beach blanket. "Why don't I show you a better spot? One where there aren't any of us shark types to get riled? Trust me, miss, on a pebble like this with only four women and one of 'em Dr. Morrison and the others sharks, there are a whole bunch of soldiers who'd appreciate the sight of you sunning yourself in plain view. You'll have tongues hanging, if you don't mind my saying so."

"You're trying to get rid of us," Brennan observed, "and your friend with the attitude had a real problem with me. Not with us in general; me, in particular. Care to explain?"

"You got it all wrong—"

"Blue," Shalimar said gently, "we're mutants, too. You've been dealing with the attitude for six months. Brennan and I have put up with it for years. Your corporal was ready to go for Brennan's throat. Why?"

"Danzig wouldn't—"

Shalimar cocked her head. Brennan merely folded his arms. They didn't say a word. They didn't have to.

Blue had the grace to blush. He grimaced. "Don't take this the wrong way—"

"Tell me what it is, and I'll tell you if it's the wrong way."

"It's you," Blue blurted out.

"Me?" Brennan was taken aback. "What did I do? I never met any of you before yesterday."

"It's not what you did." Blue cast around for a way to explain without offending. It wasn't coming. "It's what you are."

"I'm a mutant. Look around, buddy. So are you, and so are your friends. You've all got bright and shiny new DNA."

"Yeah, but you're electrical." Blue looked around, searching the blue ocean for the right words. "Man, you glow!"

"I glow?"

"Why, Brennan, you dog! I had no idea," Shalimar teased. "You glow."

"It's hard to describe." Blue hurried on. "You gotta understand, we sharks got senses that you have no idea about. We see electrical fields. It's like you being able to somehow sense something. You won't really get it, you're not sharks, but—"

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Shalimar put in, allowing her eyes to dance briefly feral. "Friend shark."

"Oh. Right." Blue looked back at Brennan. "You really don't see it?"

"Nope." Brennan turned to Shalimar. "You?"

"Not like Blue says," Shalimar allowed. "I mean, everyone has a little different—well, I guess you could say flavor. Yours tends to be almost sharp, but I sense people in terms of their scent. It's just you. Emma and Jesse each have a different flavor. It's how I can tell who's who in the dark." She grinned at Blue. "Sounds like each type of feral has their own way of sensing."

"This is all great, home week for mutant ferals, but what does that have to do with the attitude?" Brennan asked, getting back to the original problem.

Shalimar had already made the connection. "Brennan, it's because you're a walking shark stick."

"What? I am not."

"'Fraid you are, sir," Blue admitted, dropping into the automatic fear pose: eyes carefully downcast, not challenging. Not here, not on dry land, not with other soldiers around all armed with guns and shark sticks. Blue wasn't about to challenge anyone; not under these circumstances. "Fact is, to our way of lookin' at things, you're the most dangerous man on this rock for us."

"But, I—" Brennan stopped. He looked straight at Blue. "You think Bayliss brought me in to keep you mutants in line. You're all scared of me."

Blue lifted his chin. "Every damn one of us felt you step onto this hunk of dirt, Mulwray. You've got a field that could cover a football stadium, and it's a pretty good bet that you could take me out just by shaking my hand. Damn right we're scared."

"All right: news flash." Brennan leaned over. "Number one, Bayliss didn't know that Adam was bringing us along until we stepped out of the chopper. Number two: as far as I know, Bayliss still doesn't know that we're mutants. We're just part of Adam's team that he brought along. And number three: that set of dental work in your mouth is sending some pretty hefty shivers up and down my spine, enough so that I'm going to be thinking twice about surfing these waters. You cool now?" He stuck out his hand.

Blue eyed the proffered gesture. "Yeah. Maybe. But if it's all the same to you, I'll skip the handshake." He indicated the beach in front of them. Several soldiers—the non-mutant type—were already casting appreciative gazes at Shalimar, clearly hoping for a closer look. "You go ahead and enjoy. I've got work to do."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Anything look promising?" Dr. Morrison came up behind Adam, watching him peer into the microscope, adjusting the dials for a better view. Behind them the computers were spinning frantically, trying to keep up with Adam's ideas, and several test tubes had various colored liquids bubbling and threatening to overflow. "I realize it's early, but is anything jumping out at you? Anything I've missed?"

Adam didn't look up. "As far as the electrical sensitivity, no. That's a basic part of shark anatomy, and so far I don't see any way to eliminate it from the DNA transfer. I'm not even certain that's a good idea. Lose the electrical sensitivity, and you lose the ability to zero in on your target. Giving that up would be very difficult for the mutants, Martha. It might be better to simply accept it as their Achilles' heel."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say," the scientist sighed. "It's what I've been telling Colonel Bayliss all along, and he hasn't wanted to give up. A flaw like that might doom the project."

"I wouldn't think so, Martha," Adam replied, lifting his head from the scope. "Look at the hostage mission. It was successful, despite the loss of life. With more training, your shark mutants can carry out those sorts of missions and be very valuable. The rest of us deal with our short-comings; there's no reason why they can't as well."

"The goal is a super-soldier," Morrison reminded him. "A soldier like we've envisioned could eliminate a lot of global terrorism. We need a way to compensate for that flaw," she insisted.

"Any way to maybe turnthe sensitivityoff and on? Use it during the hunt, and then some sort of ground fault interrupter that they can put on during the contact part of a mission?" Jesse piped up from his place in front of the computer. He'd already input Adam's data and was waiting for the thinking machine to spit out the answer, wishing that he had Sanctuary's faster models.

Dr. Morrison looked at the molecular as if the computer had suddenly acquired a vocal interface. "What do you mean?"

"Yes." Adam got a great deal more interested. "You may have something there, Jesse. Keep talking."

Jesse leaned forward on his stool. "I've listened to you both talk all morning about the inherent electrical abilities in these mutants, and it doesn't sound like either of you are going anywhere with it. Adam, I keep going back to things that you've taught us, to use tools when Nature doesn't give us what we need. We use crutches when legs don't work, we use bags to carry a lot of things that we can't hold onto all at once; using tools is part of us. Why not part of them? Don't mess with their sense of electricity, give them a way around it. Channel the electricity away from them."

"Hm." Two brains sprang into over drive. "That might work. If we give them a wiring network to put on, something that would provide a safe passage for the electrons—"

"Yes." Morrison too was getting excited. "That sounds like a ground fault interrupter. A slender net, something to be worn under clothing. It would have to be impervious to salt water, would have to be silent. No clanking chains to give them away for a quiet approach."

"There would need to be a hood as well, to protect the brain," Adam added. "Flexible, but strong. It could even add protection against projectile weapons, like chain mail armor."

"How soon to come up with a prototype?" Morrison mused. "We'd need supplies from the mainland, lots of steel links, maybe requisition someone with armorer experience. Wonder if they have anyone like that, or if we'll have to go to the local Renaissance Festival to find someone?"

"We won't need that much for a prototype," Adam interrupted. "What we need first is evidence that it will work. We can come up with a few wires and fashion them into a glove. Ask for a volunteer to get tapped on the wrist, and we'll have an answer as to whether or not it's feasible. Plan?"

"Plan," Morrison agreed. "I'll tell Colonel Bayliss to requisition the supplies that we need for a wrist model, and we can get started right away." She paused. "How about the other problem? The aggression? I'm not thrilled about armoring these mutants before learning how to control their homicidal impulses. You saw Private Tyler this morning. If we hadn't had him in a submissive posture, he would have torn out our throats."

"Yes, well, we have to talk about that, Martha," Adam said uncomfortably.

That flew past the scientist. "You have a way to solve it, Adam?"

"Maybe." Adam looked away. "I think there may be some pretty sensible ways to deal with it. Something that everyone can do, that won't take much in the way of resources but that everyone will have to buy into."

"Buy into? Adam, you're talking like a psychologist. Or a Human Resource specialist. Can you solve this aggression problem or not?"

"Yes, I can," Adam replied bluntly, biting the proverbial bullet. "Martha, there's no more inherent aggression in those mutants than there is in any of us. They're simply reacting to how they're being treated."

Morrison's face darkened. Jesse held his breath.

"Martha, this morning you and Colonel Bayliss treated Private Tyler as though he were something less than human. And from the looks of things, it's been going on for a long time. He was expecting to be treated that way. What have you been doing to those men? Those mutants?"

"Nothing that you haven't done yourself, Adam," Morrison insisted. "Look at the data I've collected! These are volunteers; they offered to be in this program."

"But they didn't volunteer to be treated like lab rats," Adam responded. "When was the last time you were forced to take off your clothes in front of a bunch of strangers, Martha?"

Unaccountably, the woman flushed. She darted an uncomfortable glance at Jesse sitting quietly in the corner. "That was a long time ago, Adam. It's not fair for you to bring it up."

"And it's not fair for you to treat those men in that fashion, either. You, or Colonel Bayliss," Adam insisted. "Treat them with courtesy and respect, and you'll get the soldiers that you want; soldiers that will truly volunteer to undertake dangerous missions and come back with victory. Assuming that this situation is not too far gone."

"You're putting the blame on me."

"Not only you, but your Colonel Bayliss as well. Those are his men, Martha. He needs to have more respect for them."

"You don't understand—" she started to say.

"Really? Enlighten me."

Morrison regained some of her composure. "The first group, the first five. You met Private Tyler, the one with the blue shark DNA."

"That's right." Adam kept his arms folded. Jesse sat quietly in the background, soaking up the information.

"There were five of them," Morrison told them. "Two Great Whites, two tiger sharks, and Private Tyler. My first group. They looked good. The hostage situation came up, and the decision was made to try them out. It was our first big test here at Base Forty Three A. A success would mean more funding from the Pentagon."

"And it was a success," Adam said quietly. "The hostages were rescued."

"But four of the men never returned."

"What went wrong?" Jesse couldn't keep from asking.

"What Private Tyler said was that the terrorists blew themselves up with our people. Everyone was lost into the depths of the ocean. Not one body was recovered, and Tyler told us that he spent an hour or two looking. He thought that perhaps the local sharks in the area—hammerheads frequent that particular part of the world—had gotten to the bodies before he could. He was pretty shaken up."

"I can imagine. But you think…?" Adam left the question open.

"I'm not sure what to think, Adam." Morrison sank back onto her stool, looking down at the tiled floor. "I'd hate to think that he lied to me. But, even back then, there were murmurings from them that they wanted to live in the ocean. That staying on Base wasn't good enough for them."

"You don't think they were killed."

Morrison bit her lip. "Let's just say I'm not certain. I haven't seen any of the four since then. And shortly after that was when Colonel Bayliss ordered construction of the electronic barrier. He said it was to prevent any unwanted sharks and ocean competitors to get our people."

"But…?"

Morrison pulled herself together. "Adam, my job is to produce a shark mutant with the desired attributes that will protect not only him but this country. How to use those mutants to the best advantage is not something I have expertise in."

"That's for certain," Jesse murmured, too quietly for the woman to hear.

Adam threw him a sharp look. "Short-sighted, Martha. That's the cause of your aggression problem. It's nothing that genetics can solve. You need a good Human Resources manager." There was no amusement in his voice. "Are you planning on creating any more shark mutants? You said that you were suspending new subjects until you could get the problems worked out."

"That's one of the problems," Morrison admitted. "No more volunteers, and even Colonel Bayliss hasn't been able to recruit any. All the soldiers on this base were originally scheduled to be mutated. This was to be a training ground for the finest and more elite task forces known to mankind."

"And now?"

"They've all backed out," Morrison said ruefully. "There's such a gap between the two groups that neither wants anything to do with the other. Only military discipline is keeping everything from being flushed down the toilet, which is the only reason that Colonel Bayliss let me bring you in. Once his superiors hear how bad morale is, the colonel will be replaced and the project canned." She looked up, and Jesse was amazed to see tears in her eyes. "You're my last hope, Adam. Tell me what to do."

Adam rubbed his hands together, thinking. "Who's the ranking officer among the mutants?"

"Lieutenant Vanderworthy. A great white."

"Stop thinking of him in terms of his mutated DNA," Adam ordered. "Think of him as an officer in this man's armed forces. A person. Where is he?"

There was a spark of hope in Morrison's eye. She didn't know what Adam was planning, but she had faith in him. She'd worked with Dr. Kane before, knew the miracles he could produce. "I don't know. Probably in Shark's Cove."

"Have someone find him, get him over here. No," and Adam stopped himself, "Jesse, I need you. Find Lt. Vanderworthy and give him this message: that Drs. Morrison and Kane would appreciate his assistance at his earliest convenience. Make it clear that compliance is his choice. Got that?"

"Got it." The sideways grin on Jesse's face indicated his whole-hearted approval.

"I'll get some soldiers to accompany him," Morrison said.

"No. Jesse goes alone."

"But, Adam," and Morrison was truly worried, "the situation—"

"Jesse can take care of himself," Adam assured her.

"Against normal men, probably, as long as they don't gang up on him. But these are shark mutants—"

"Martha," and Adam took her by the shoulders, "calm down. Jesse can take care of himself. He's been doing it for years."

"A shark bite—"

Adam turned to Jesse and asked with great deliberation, "Which do you think is stronger? A shark's jaw, or a three inch thick rod of diamond hard material?"

"We just may find out." And Jesse exited the clinic, whistling merrily off-key.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The dour looks he was now collecting, Brennan decided, were entirely justified. Out of the thirty soldiers who were spending their day off lazing on the beach, all thirty were busy preening their pecs and trying to figure out how to attract the attention of the exceptionally beautiful woman beside him on the blanket. Thirty soldiers, no women? This angry crowd he could figure out, no problem. He didn't need Blue to explain that an elemental with an affinity for electricity and a bunch of feral shark mutants didn't go together. Anyone sitting next to Shalimar would be the recipient of dirty looks from men trying to make time with her. If Jesse had been here, the molecular would've gotten the same thing. Heck, the colonel guy himself would've had a tough time.

This sliver of beach was just as beautiful as the slice that the shark mutants were confined to, but with a bit more sand available for lying on. Which made sense, Brennan decided. Shark mutant, ocean waves lapping in—most of the mutants hit the water as soon as they could. Brennan had caught sight of a couple jumping above the waves as he'd left Shark's Cove, Blue's black-eyed gaze following him along with a dozen other angry mutants. Odd feeling, that; Brennan was more used to being disliked by normals afraid of mutants. Being feared by mutants was a different feeling entirely, and Brennan wasn't at all certain that he liked it. He could understand it; remember that mutant who could kill with a touch of his hand? Guess these shark guys aren't so crazy.

And there was certainly an equal amount of paranoia on this side of the fence, he realized. Despite being off duty, several of the soldiers had their shark sticks by their side, ready for quick action if needed. Look outs were posted at either side of the beach, watching for the triangular fins sticking up over the waves, both mutant and garden variety sharks.

Shalimar groaned. Brennan looked up in surprise. "Shalimar?"

"Another one," she moaned. "Here he comes now, with another awful line that went out before Adam's time. Brennan, I've had it. Every soldier on this base is hitting on me! Aren't you the least bit embarrassed? They're doing it right in front of you, as if you weren't even here!"

"Embarrassed? Me? Are you kidding?" Brennan grinned. "I'm flattered, Shal. You keep turning them all down, and I'm the one left sitting on this blanket beside you. You don't think that's driving them wild? I've got you, and they don't." Really wish that were true, lady. But you're too wild to be tied down to one man; I know that. Maybe someday you'll look at me differently…

"Arrgh! Men!" Shalimar sat up, rubbed at herself with a towel. "Let's go. I'm hot, and I want to get cleaned up, and I want to see if Adam's made any progress."

"See if he has anything for us to do yet, you mean." Brennan too stood up. He could all but hear thirty moans of frustration that the pretty lady was leaving. Tough luck, guys. You'll have to be satisfied watching her stretch.

Which Shalimar did, reaching high into the sky, lengthening each and every muscle with a grace that only a feral could achieve. Muscles rippled gently beneath golden skin, blonde ringlets framing shoulders over a flirty green bikini strip of almost nothing across her chest. Thirty throats tightened at the sight, unable to breathe until the goddess did. Gonna be cold showers tonight…

"C'mon," Brennan said roughly. My own cold shower is waiting…

The gunshot cracked against the warm tropic afternoon. Something slammed into his hip, sending a sudden jolt of fire up and down his leg. Brennan didn't realize that he'd yelped until the sound had already left his mouth, and the next thing he knew, Shalimar had barreled into him, taking him down to the sandy beach floor.

"What the hell—?"

It may have been a mere research base with the likelihood of attack a slender wisp of a fantasy, but there were thirty trained soldiers lounging on the beach and the sound of gunfire hitting nearby was enough to render a cold shower superfluous. Feet hit the dirt running, scattering sprays of sand into the air. Shalimar yanked Brennan to his feet, dragging him in their wake to the doubtful shelter of the palm trees some several yards away. Brennan stumbled, his leg no longer willing to support him. It didn't matter—Shalimar pulled him to safety, more soldierly arms reaching out to help guide him to cover.

"Where—?" he gasped, wondering if he dared look at the damage. He pulled his hand away from the ouchy spot; it was covered in blood. Brennan felt sick. That's my blood.

One of the non-coms took charge, determined to keep the panic out. "You three, circle left. You over there, right. Clancy, see if you can spot the bastard. Miss, are you all right?" Completely neglecting that fact that Shalimar was in better shape and more dangerous than any normal human here, thought Brennan crazily, the fire in his leg scrambling his thoughts. Hurray for gallantry.

"He's gone." Shalimar's eyes flashed back to brown. "He took off after the one shot."

"You can't know that—"

"I know." Shalimar cut him off sharply. "Help me get Brennan to the clinic. He's hurt. He's bleeding."

"I can walk," Brennan protested through clenched teeth. He grabbed at a nearby frond to pull himself to a standing position. Unfortunately for the elemental, his leg told him in no uncertain terms that movement was out of the question and if Brennan continued to push the issue then shock and loss of consciousness was a very real threat. He floundered, arms thrashing, until Shalimar grabbed him and eased him down to the hot sand. Blackness quivered in front of his eyes. "Or not."