THE
PLAGUE
OF
TERMINAL
CITY
By
X5R-731
Disclaimer: Cameron and company owns Dark Angel, while Doctor Who is the property of the BBC. Please, please, please don't sue me.
QUARENTINEMax wandered amongst the bunks accompanied by one of her ever-present bodyguards (today it was Krit) doing what she could to make the patients comfortable or raise their morale. They'd moved the patients outside because a) there was no room inside and b) the only way of dealing with progenia was to keep their bodies cool. She passed Bullet who was sitting with Ralph (she had just recently begun to show the early stages of progenia). She remembered when she first met then, part of a group of nervous Manticore refugees. Bullet had gotten his name from a leg wound he'd received in the escape and Ralph had gotten hers because she'd thrown up trying to treat it. They'd been inseparable ever since. Max gave Bullet a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder before moving on. The press had compared her actions to that of Churchill during the Blitz, or Guiliani and 9/11. Which was fine with her, as they always needed good press.
Max observed doctors and other medical personnel did their best to treat their patients. Even Lydecker was doing his best to find a cure, always closely guarded by Lane and Keema. He was just as desperate to save the transgenics as she was. He'd been a prisoner of the transgenics since Max had rescued him from the Familiars Mad House on the condition the he'd tell her where her mother was. Unfortunately the institution he'd shipped her off to had been shut down years ago, the patients scattered and lost after the pulse wiped the computers. Why she just didn't turn him over to Mole and the others, she didn't know. Maybe it was because he was the closest thing to a father she'd ever known. Or maybe he'd simply programmed her and the others not to harm him. Either was plausible.
Despite news reports to the contrary, the CDC had done very little to help them out. Either the right forms didn't get processed or lost altogether, while supplies were misplaced or hijacked. All the doctors here were local, having volunteered from nearby hospitals (old friends Sam Carr and Beverly Shankar among them).
Hours after the sun went down, Max and Krit decided to turn in. Krit escorted Max to her room. Max's room was an old office with a beat up old desk and a bedroll in the corner.
"You should try and get some shut eye, too," Max said.
Krit smiled. "I'm going to take a another tour around the perimeter, first. Then I'm checking in with Joshua about our rotation."
The X5 siblings hugged before turning in. Max and Krit were the last of the 09 escapees. Of the twelve who'd gotten away, they were the only one left. The others were either dead or recaptured. Technically that wasn't true, but Jondy was still MIA and Zack wasn't Zack any more.
Max unzipped her parka to reveal her slightly swollen belly. Looking down, she gently caressed her abdomen thinking about the life growing inside her. This would be third child. Oh God, THIRD, Max thought. There was a time in her future where children had never existed, now she had three! She had the disease – they all did – but pregnant women and the nomalies seemed to show a greater resistance. Dying didn't scare her. Max had long accepted that she wasn't the "die in her sleep surrounded by fat grandkids" type, but losing the life inside her, terrified her beyond description. She had been raised to take life, the prospect of creating life still left her overwhelmed.
In grown instincts warned her she was not alone – but those same instincts told her the intruder was a friend. Without turning around she commented, smiling, "You don't squeak anymore."
Standing in the far corner Logan Cale, otherwise known as Eyes Only, champion of the oppressed and defender of the innocent, smiled warmly. "Parts came in two weeks ago. Finally got them installed properly yesterday."
The exo-skeleton that enabled Logan to walk didn't make a sound as he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his hands on her bump. Max leaned back into his embrace, losing herself in that feeling of warmth she'd first experienced as a ten-year-old runaway in an isolated cabin.
"How're you holding up?"
"We lost Luke, yesterday."
"I'm sorry."
"He never forgave you for breaking his code box."
"Served him right for trying to break into my files."
"If you hadn't gotten yourself kidnapped, he wouldn't have had to go into your computer."
Logan chuckled softly, nuzzling her hair. "Fair enough."
Max turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around her neck. "So what brings you to Plague City? Did you find anything?"
Logan shook his head. "Afraid not. Information I'm getting is conflicted."
Max bit her lip. "How're-"
"They miss you," it was clear from his tone he included himself in that statement. Logan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a videodisk. "They sent you an update on their activities."
Max took the disk and held it in her hand like it was a precious jewel. She hadn't heard from her children since the outbreak. They'd tried to evacuate the children at the first sign of plague, but the authorities clamped down isolating the transgenics from the rest of the population. Max and Logan's kids were at his parent's cabin and Gem's daughter, Eve, was staying with Normal of all people. The toddler and taken to her "Uncle Rae" very well and helped him to work. She'd become quite a fixture around Jam Pony even calling Sketchy by Normal's favourite nickname. One way or another the girl was going to be seriously warped when she came home.
Max pulled Logan's mouth to hers and kissed him deeply. Eventually Max broke the kiss and asked, "Can you stay?"
"Is that such a good idea?"
"Probably not." She pulled his lips back to hers.
Senator Julia Tarrison was not having a good day. After being badgered by reporters all day, she was now suffering a visit from Obadiah Torrance. Right now all she wanted to do was go home and get ready for her daughter's recital, but that didn't seem likely. The evangelical leader of God's Chosen Children was ranting (as always) about his favourite subject.
"How much longer must we suffer these abominations? The very fact that they exist at all is an affront to God-"
"Please Mr. Torrance, no sermons. I'm well aware of the threat the transgenics pose to humanity."
"Have you seen the paper," Torrance was practically frothing at the mouth.
A lifetime in politics had taught the senator to hide her emotions but what she read made her stomach churn. The press is painting these monsters as tragic victims! Didn't these people know that these freaks were killers? From birth that was what they'd been raised as and it was what they were. Torrance was starting up full sermon, all fire and brimstone so it was best to cut him off before he hit his stride.
"Spare me your tirades Obie. We're moving as fast as we can given the circumstances."
"We should move faster. They're starting to breed. We have right on our side."
"There are various human rights groups who'd beg to differ."
"THEY AREN'T HUMAN!
"I know! But the rest of the world won't accept that. Until they realize the truth we move at are our present pace. Go back to your pulpit and educate the people the best way you can, while I handle things from my end."
Torrance's mouth was a thing line of anger as he turned on his heel and marched out without another word.
"Passionate man, isn't he," said Robert Sanford, her faithful aide, dryly.
"Can you blame him? Have you seen the headlines? They're painting that freak bitch queen up as some sort of modern day Lincoln. Ames White, now there was a hero. While our so-called leaders waffled and debated the transgenic problem he tried to do something about it. And what did he get for his efforts? Discharged from the NSA and on the run on trumped up charges of conspiracy and corruption."
"Yes, the NSA does take a dim view of their agents allowing psychotic killers to roam around free."
"They're all killers. What has our government done about the rest of them?"
"Agreed. But so far none of them have ever skinned their victims. And they have behaved themselves for the last four years. In fact they've done more for the economy of Seattle than any of previous elected officials."
"Mark my words Robert, it's only a matter of time before they give in to their nature. This disease is humanity's last hope."
Max lay in her sleeping roll, her hand resting Logan's chest. His sleep was so deep he wasn't even snoring. It had been a long time since they'd shared sleeping accommodations. The last time had been at the Cale family cabin, when they'd taken the kids for a family vacation. Unlike most of their planned time off, this had been going rather well until news of the plague had reached them. They'd rushed back leaving the children in the care of Logan's cousin Bitsy.
She worried about him. He was probably sitting up all night staring at his computer screen, working twenty-four hours a day, not eating or sleeping. No doubt between trying to find the source of the disease, he was still working on his Eyes Only and S1W missions. She was beginning to see what those debutantes at Bennett Cale's wedding had meant when they said he needed looking after.
Max felt an unpleasant twinge at the base of her spine. Flinching, she rolled onto her back trying to make herself more comfortable. She looked down at her swelling baby bump and could've sworn it had gotten bigger. However it would still be another five months before she gave birth. That must have irritated the folks at Manticore somewhat, realizing that no matter how advanced your genes, it still took nine months gestation period for an infant to develop. She thought about her own children.
Eva Brin Guevera and Jack Samuel Cale conceived Christmas Day 2021 (ironically the first time her and Logan had been together) born August 23, 2022. Named after the brothers and sisters lost to her and Logan's friend and doctor. They'd argued long and hard over Jack's middle name. Max had wanted to name him after his father but Logan had been adamant about there being no more Logans in his family and Max had been equally adamant about future Zacks. They'd eventually remembered Dr. Carr jokingly requesting they name their first born after him when the virus was out of their lives and settled for that. For some reason, while everyone called him Jack, Eva had taken to calling him Sammy and only she was allowed to call him that – no one else.
When the media had caught wind of Max's pregnancy there'd been a firestorm of media speculation of who'd sired an heir for the transgenic queen. Joshua had been the early favourite, mainly because he was Terminal City's second most popular resident. He had denied this off-handedly, stating it was impossible as he was a dog and Max was a cat. And as everyone knows, cats and dogs were incompatible. Later the press turned to the more "realistic" possibility of Seattle City Councilman Alec, who had earned Max's eternal ire by not outright denying the allegations. He only started denying it when it started interfering with his own love life. Whenever Max was asked she always replied, "None of your damn business!"
Max's fidgeting awoke Logan. "Back bothering you again?"
"It's nothing."
But Logan was having none of that. "C'mon, turn over."
Max obediently rolled onto her side, her back facing him. He began to slowly massage the kinks out of her aching back. This was all Max wanted, Hell what all the trangenics wanted, a little peace and quiet with someone special. Was that so bad? Max drifted off to sleep under Logan's ministrations. A loud banging on the door rudely awakened them both.
"Go away," Max shouted wanting to spend just a few more seconds in her significant others company.
"Max," Krit yelled from the other side of the door. "Max get up! We have a situation at the mouth of one of the tunnels!"
Max sighed and swung out of her sleeping roll, Logan followed and they both quickly got dressed.
What greeted them at the entrance of one of the supply tunnels was a very bizarre tableau. Surrounded by armed transgenics was a fish girl, a Victorian enthusiast, a robot in bullet shredded clothes all with their hands raised ridiculously high with a bundle of rags crouching on the ground like a frog and –
"Sketchy!" Max screamed.
She rushed over to where her friend was sitting on the ground clutching his shoulder. Blood gushing from an untended wound and had already started to cake his hands.
Max glared angrily at Mole. "What happened? Why hasn't this been treated?"
"I offered to treat his injury," the curly haired Victorian began.
"But turtle head over there wouldn't let us touch him," fish girl finished, indicating Mole.
"Some rather overenthusiastic young people in uniform inexplicably shot at us. Fortunately the one they were shooting at is bulletproof."
Max motioned for a pair of X6's to take Sketchy to the infirmly. "Now who are you?"
"How do you do," he said taking Max's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I'm the Doctor, the silver chap is Kroton, the girl with the gills is Destrii and the huddled bundle of rags is called-"
"Francie," Joshua announced stepping forward.
"Hi Joshua," Francie said hopping toward her fellow nomalie.
When she tilted her head up to look at Joshua, Max got a good look at her face and saw she looked like a frog. Joshua made no effort to approach Francie, which was odd for Joshua.
When Max mentioned this, Francie said, "I sweat poison. Anyone touches me they get sick."
"I know the feeling," Max said, remembering the year she spent with the designer virus intended to kill Eyes Only.
"So what exactly are you a doctor of," Logan asked.
"Oh this and that," the Doctor said. "Mostly that, but enough this to get by. Anyway I heard about this plague of yours and thought I'd offer my considerable experience in helping to find a cure. Now normally it's not in my nature t interfere" – Destrii snorted with laughter – "but in this case I thought, why not." Looking into their skeptical faces he added, "I do have some official qualification if you'd like."
He began rummaging through his pockets pulling out all sorts of odd items: steel wool, ball of yarn, toy car, a spigot, bag of jellybeans, a Webster's Pocket Dictionary ("Uneducated scribbler," the Doctor muttered contemptuously before throwing it away). Eventually pulling out a variety of plastic cards. "London driver's license expired 1974, member ship to the Royal Society expired 1749, pilots license for the Arya-Sedna run, Alpha Centauri Table Tennis Club, ah here we are."
He handed one of the cards to Logan. "United Nations Intelligence Taskforce?"
"Yes it's our mandate to investigate the odd, unexplained, weird and not-so-wonderful. And I don't see anything stranger that a disease that target one specific group of people, don't you?"
Indeed it did and after assessing that this group was no real threat, Max, Logan and the others escorted the Doctor and company to the research lab. The lab consisted of a couple of computer banks and monitors and various medical equipment. The only doctors working in the lab were Sam and Beverly and a few volunteer lab technicians. Lydecker was also pouring over data flanked, as always by Lane and Keema. The Doctor quickly introduced himself and set to work.
"Kroton see if you can assist the computer. Destrii, Izzy – where's Izzy?"
"As I've been trying to tell you," Kroton said. "She went off with a young woman last night."
The Doctor groaned. "I've told that girl a hundred times not to wander off. Now how are we supposed to find her and let her know where we are?"
A muffled chirping came from Kroton's shredded coat pocket. Kroton tore off the remains of his flimsy garments, pulling Scarper out of his hiding place.
"You brought that along."
"I couldn't very well leave him alone in the ship could I? No telling what he'd get up to unsupervised. Besides, be grateful I did, he can locate Izzy faster than any of us."
This was true. Cybermats were designed as spies, saboteurs and assassins, capable of getting into and out of all manner of places. Scarper could home in on Izzy's brainwaves anywhere within a fifteen kilometer are. Kroton sent a quick mental command to his pet and Scarper twitched his antennae with eager anticipation in response. Kroton put him on the floor and everybody watched with bemused fascination as the tiny metallic bug scurried across the floor and disappeared into a hole in the wall.
TERMINAL CITY MESS HALLMole watched Destrii as she walked through the mess with growing resentment. It was bad enough Max entrusted their survival to these strangers but practically letting them roam freely through Terminal City was asking for trouble. The ordinary and the robot had the sense to stay in the lab, but fish girl could be seen prancing through the streets in her yellow and purple bikini.
She didn't carry herself like a nomalie for one thing. Even after four years in the open, the nomalies still tended to walk hunched over and nervous. She was tall, proud, and unashamed with just enough arrogance. It irritated Mole to see a nomalie so comfortable in her own skin. Seeing all the admiring glances she was appreciating only added to his annoyance
Destrii sat down at a vacant table, picking at her food. Was it so much to ask for them to serve her something live (something that was covered with fleas)? She liked to think she'd developed a cosmopolitan appetite with her travels, but whatever this gloop was it would do nothing for her dietary tract (and she had the digestive system of a tiger shark).
There was nothing more boring than scientists talking science speak, so she'd decided to take a tour of Terminal City. Eventually she'd found herself in the company of more animal people and felt instantly at home. It reminded her of Oblivion, the only difference being, their people with beast-like features were nobility. Well they had been, last she heard there'd been a revolution of sorts – peasants storming the palace and everything. Maybe they were living like the Terminal City mutates now. Anyway it wasn't her problem, even if she was technically now Matriax of Oblivion. After picking at her food for a few more minutes, she pushed it aside and got up to leave only to bump into the massive Mole.
"Oh, its you," she said, remembering the scaly brute.
Mole felt his already short temper getting shorter at Destrii's casual dismissal of him. "Listen up, fish girl, just because Max thinks you can help us, don't think that puts you in a class above the rest of us. Here you're just another transie freak show."
Destrii raised an eyebrow, amused. Maybe this reptilian thug could help alleviate her boredom. "First of, Godzilla breath, I'm no a transgenic. Secondly I am better than you. I can trace my lineage back two hundred Earth years. Can you say the same, turtle head?"
"What're you on? We were artificially conceived-"
"Hel-lo," Destrii said, tapping Mole's forehead. "Are you paying attention or is your bonehead completely solid? There was nothing 'artificial' about my conception. Mommy and Daddy dearest did their royal responsibility and out I popped six months later."
Frustrated with Destrii's flippant tone and lack of respect, Mole struck out catching Destrii across the jaw. She staggered back but didn't fall. Looking up at Mole, Destrii smiled broadly revealing rows of gleaming white, extremely sharp, piranha-like teeth.
"Well if that's the way you want it, iguana-dummy."
"Come on," Mole snarled. "Let's see if you bleed."
"Just pucker up, buttercup."
Meanwhile in the lab, Max watched the Doctor as he maneuvered through the scientific mess. Carr and Shankar had gone to bed at the Doctor's insistence, saying they needed clear heads to tackle this problem. No amount of argument could convince Lydecker to sleep. How could he sleep knowing his kids were dying?
Learning Lydecker's part in creating the X-series soldiers had prompted a heated philosophical debate between the two scientists. The ex-colonel spouted the same speech he gave Max in that hotel after she found Tinga dead, prompting the Doctor to respond hotly.
"Making war very neat, very clean. Don't you understand that by sanitizing war you make it something not to be avoided? People must see war for what it is: the senseless destruction, lives lost, the loved ones never coming home. You expose people to all of war's ugliness, the great the chance of people making sure it doesn't happen again."
Before Lydecker could respond, Mole crashed threw the wall followed by Destrii. Mole's superhuman strength was no match for Destrii's fluid, graceful movements. A lifetime in the arena made her more than a match for any mutant super-soldier. She could have finished off Mole any time she wanted to – but she was having just too much fun!
"Destrii!" The Doctor cried
"Mole!" Max yelled.
"Not in here, you fools," Lydecker screamed, trying to save the samples from obliteration.
However, no one moved to try and break it up. The Doctor and Lydecker were physically no match for the enhanced gladiators. Max could probably have stopped the fight, but she had another life to consider. It was Kroton who took the initiative.
The Cyberman with a soul marched up to the grappling pair, grabbed them by the scruff of their necks and lifted them off the ground and held them at arms length of each other. They looked like a pair of struggling preschoolers separated by a disapproving teacher. Their feet dangled off the ground as they continued to try and swipe and kick at each other, never coming close, until Kroton bellowed, "ENOUGH!"
"Destrii," the Doctor scolded. "I should've known than to expect better of you by now."
Max smacked Mole upside his head. "What the Hell did you think you were doing?"
"He/She started it," they said simultaneously.
"QUIET!" The Doctor snapped. After exchanging a look with Max he continued, "We don't care who started it. The two of you can stay right where you are until you learn how to be civil."
"Uh Doctor," Kroton said. "You don't expect me to hold them here all day, do you?"
"Why not? Its not like you get tired."
"I do have plans this evening."
This got Destrii's undivided attention. "You don't have a … date, do you?"
When Kroton didn't answer right away, Destrii broke out into a wide grin. "Why you smooth talking hunk of steel-"
"Francie offered to show me around Joshua's studio later. That's all."
Kroton caught sight of some disused metal girders in the next room. With Destrii and Mole in each hand, he carried them to the other room. After dropping Destrii he wrapped a steel girder around Mole, pinning his arms to his side, and hung him on the wall.
"Way to go Kroton," Destrii praised just before Kroton wrapped a girder around her as well, and hanged her on the opposite wall. "Hey," she protested. "Aw c'mon Kroton, let me down. C'mon this isn't funny. Kroton. Kroton!"
She continued to protest as Kroton walked away, brushing his hands together.
Scarper zipped through the sewers of Seattle as he homed in on Izzy's brain patterns. Along the way he came across an unusual energy signature. It didn't conform to any local specifications and should be investigated. However, his primary mission was to collect Izzy. So instead he sent a signal and a copy of his scan to the Junior CyberLeader and continued his mission.
ORIGINAL CINDY'S APARTMENTIzzy stretched leisurely on the lumpy bed smiling dreamily. She crawled out from under the tangled sheets and collected the remainder of her clothes. She found Cindy in the kitchen holding a knife looking around tentatively.
"Breakfast get away from you?"
Original Cindy shot her a withering look but smiled. The accent was just too damn sexy. "Nah, just an unwanted house guest thinking he's gonna move in."
Sitting down at the kitchen counter, Izzy said, "Old boyfriend who can't take a hint?"
"Ain't no man never got freaky with Original Cindy," she said indignantly. "Original Cindy is, and always has been, one hundred per cent behind the all girls team."
"In more ways than one," Izzy said saucily, leaning across the counter to kiss Cindy.
Cindy cupped Izzy's face letting the kiss linger. It had been a long time since she'd been involved with anyone seriously. Last night Izzy confessed she'd only be staying as long as the Doctor found something to amuse himself, so they both decided to take advantage of the time.
When they eventually broke apart, Original Cindy said, "The only rat Original Cindy is dealing with this mourning is the four-legged kind."
"A rat," Izzy stiffened.
Get a grip Sinclair, she told herself. You've tackled, murderous mutants, evil aliens, berserker robots and megalomania cal immortals. A flea-infested rodent shouldn't be a problem.
There was a rustling sound and a familiar silver bug scuttled up to Izzy's feet. "Scarper," she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
Scarper chittered urgently and produced a small piece of paper. After introducing Cindy to Scarper, she read the message. "Typical, absolutely bloody typical!"
Original Cindy caught sight of the contents of the message. "Hold up surgah, Original Cindy knows the quickest way to Terminal City and the best way to get inside with out getting noticed. You can borrow Max's bike."
"Thanks Cindy," Izzy said putting Scarper in her pocket.
JOSHUA'S STUDIOKroton gazed at the combination of colours and oils on the stretched canvass as Joshua tried to explain what each of them meant.
Cybermen had no concept of beauty. It was as alien to them as emotions. All things must have practical purpose; if it didn't then it was useless and irrelevant. But then Kroton thought of the fluid almost organic skyscrapers of the City of Telos, the elegant spires stretching towards the sky as if trying to escape. There was a – sort of – beauty in their architecture, a small part of their subconscious struggling to remind them of who'd they once been.
Suddenly he received Scarper's message and a copy of his scan. It clearly showed the energy was not native to this planet and demanded further investigating.
"I must go," he announced.
"Why," Francie asked and Kroton explained.
"I go too," Joshua said. "Joshua knows tunnels. Get there quick, back faster."
"Me too," Francie said.
Kroton remembered and old Earth saying: safety in numbers. It would benefit if he could make this enquiry with witnesses before reporting his findings to the Doctor.
In the sewers they made there way effortlessly to the source of the unusual energy readings. The readings were much stronger than Kroton anticipated. It wasn't being artificially generated either. The power was building dangerously high.
"Francie, Joshua get back," Kroton cried just before the tunnel was flooded with thousands of volts of electricity.
Being made of metal, Kroton was practically a living conductor, absorbing most of the electricity, but he could hear Joshua and Francie screaming in pain. When the energy finally faded Francie and Joshua collapsed while Kroton stood rigidly at attention, fizzling with the remnants of raw energy.
"Not-not-not-not agai-a-a-ain-n-n-nnnnnnnnn, glurk."
He toppled backwards with a clang.
A formless shape slithered out of the darkness and hovered around the three intruders. Two it dismissed as local mutates, but it was the silver giant that attracted its undivided attention. A shrill, guttural voice hissed, "Cyberman."
Outside Terminal City, Original Cindy and Izzy could see police and soldiers crawling all over the hidden entrance to Terminal City.
"Well," Izzy said. "Any other ideas?"
"Don't worry sweetness," Original Cindy said. "Original Cindy got lots of mad schemes. You wanted to get into Terminal City and Original Cindy will get you there. C'mon I got and idea."
Energy levels optimum
Anomalous programming detected. Purging …
Rebooting primary objectives
Designation: Kroton
Function: Leader, Junior Grade
Mission: Proliferate and Survive
We will survive
We Will Survive
WE WILL SURVIVE
WE-WILL-SUR-VIVE!
To Be Coninued ...