Hi, to all who have been waiting patiently for this for months. As you may have heard my computer exploded on me at the end of June and it took me about a month and a half to catch up with what had been lost. I have been working hard to get back what I remembered typing. But that does mena that i havent answered the reviews.
But i would like to say a huge THANKYOU to everyone who has ever reviewed asit was those who kept me from giving up when it seemed like i'd never finish or recall what I did. It has all been appreciated.
So thanks.
Chapter 20- Too Early in the day for killing Princes
When Max and Alec raced into the hospital bay with Dek eagerly on their heels, they had no idea what to expect; Dek had run to them the instant Pix opened his eyes.
Pix lay pale and twitchy against the white pillows. his face covered with cuts and bruises, their deep purple hue only emphasizing the stark whiteness of the crisp hospital linen.
Chance sat at his side, her hand grasping the bed sheets like they were a life line. She looked up when they burst into the room and Max wasn't entirely surprised to see tears in Chance's eyes.
Her gaze flew past the weepy brunette to Pix's open brown eyes and she smiled at him, her pulse pounding more with nerves than the speed with which she had raced there.
He wasn't dead. Whatever else happened, they could cope with providing he wasn't dead.
"Hey, guys," Max said as she calmed herself down, her fingers flexing as she wondered what to do with her hands. "Everything okay?"
"Max," Tara greeted, her voice somewhat strange.
"Pix?" Alec called as he came closer to the bed. "How are ya doing, buddy?"
Pix said nothing and just blinked. An icy hand gripped Max's heart.
"Pix?"
"He hasn't said anything," Chance burst out, as if keeping the words in hurt her. She'd tried to be strong. Manticore knows she'd tried, for her own sake if not Pix's but for him to sit there, staring into thin air and just blinking, it was more than she could deal with, having been on tenterhooks for his awakening. Tara still wasn't sure what had made him open his eyes and Chance was wondering if that was all that he'd ever be able to do.
Tara nodded, laying a hand on Chance's shoulder in understanding. She may have been a bitch to the young girl before, but even she could understand the real fear that her mate might be a vegetable. "He'd been awake for about ten minutes before any of us noticed he'd opened his eyes. But he hasn't said a word."
Max sat on the edge of the bed and moved her face into Pix's line of vision. "Pix? It's Max. How do you feel?"
He blinked again.
Max held up her hand and moved one finger to the left and right of his vision. His eyes slowly followed the finger. She moved the finger left and right and then brought it to her nose.
Pix's eyes followed it until he was looking directly at her, his vision focused.
Max smiled gently at him. "Hey. Do you know where you are?"
He nodded slightly, wincing when the movement caused him pain.
"Don't move your head too much," Tara ordered. "I'll try to find some Tryptophan for any head pain."
Max shifted to look over her shoulder. "There's a guy in central command with Sunny. His name is Bill— he should be able to get his hands on some more if we need it."
Tara nodded and started to move but halted at the door. "As Pix's doctor I should tell you that you are not to overexcite him and there should be no more than three visitors at any time."
"Duly noted," Alec said with an irreverent air and Tara knew that her orders would be disregarded.
Max ignored them, intent as she was in looking at Pix. "Are you in pain?"
There was a slight head nod again and Max bit her lip. "We're going to fix you up. But we need to know exactly what's wrong. Can you talk?"
There was an odd rumbling from his throat and a pained expression crossed his face.
"Shh, it's okay," Chance soothed and touched his hand. "If it hurts too much then don't try to talk."
"C-c-a-an," came a ravaged whisper from his throat.
"Can you tell me where it hurts?"
"W-w—" Pix cleared his throat. "—w-ater?"
"Of course!" Chance leaped up but Dek was faster, his hands grabbing a glass of water and bringing it to Pix's bedside.
"Here, pal."
Pix sipped at the cup that Dek held to his lips, spilling a little down his chin.
Chance had to turn her eyes away from the image of her mate unable to hold his own glass. Pix had always been able to more than hold his own and to see him reduced to this state was more than painful. She suddenly recalled Tara's words and turned back, her spine straight. She would do this for Pix.
"W-what h-happened?" Pix stammered, his throat obviously hurting.
Max and Alec glanced at each other wondering if it was best to tell him or to let him remember in his own time.
Max reached over and smoothed a lock of hair away from Pix's eyes, feeling relief that she could touch him and that he was alive to feel it. All at once calm swamped her and she released a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding; holding since she'd first seen his face on that screen.
Pix had been her unofficial brother since that moment she'd turned to him in the cramped truck she'd left Wyoming in and the thought of losing him, like she'd lost Zack and Ben and the rest, sat in her stomach and heart like a lead balloon. She'd felt on edge since he had been injured, yelling at everyone and disregarding Alec, hoping to hell that she wasn't about to lose someone else that she loved. She didn't think she'd be able to take it if Pix died. She couldn't…didn't want to be leader if he wasn't there to lighten the load. Now that he was awake, she was going to do all that she could to ensure that he would get well again.
"We'll discuss that when your better. For now, it was an accident."
He looked at her like he didn't believe her but didn't say anything as she stroked his face with a sad smile.
"Okay, Pix. Can you tell me where it hurts?"
Pix swallowed. "E-everywh-ere ex-cept…I c-can't f-f-feel my legs," he struggled to say, his eyes widening in panic. "Legs."
"There was some spinal damage from the…accident," Max filled in. "It's probably temporary. We are gonna take good care of you, Pix."
"Promise," Chance offered with a smile dredged from the deepest recesses of her strength. Paralysed?
Moments ago all she'd wanted was for him to be awake and alive and now. Now? Could she deal with having a mate who could never move below the waist? Could she deal with never going for walks with Pix again, or chasing him after some dumb prank? Could she deal with this Pix who suddenly seemed far too sedate and sweet? Ropes knotted in her stomach as she watched him.
Pix leaned back with his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.
"Pix, buddy, is there anything you need?" Dek asked quietly, not wanting to crowd his friend.
"Yes," Pix sniffed and opened his eyes. "I ne-ed to know," he said, his voice still ragged from the abuse he had gone through.
"What?" Alec frowned.
Pix looked at each of them in turn. "Wh-o are you and why do you call me Pix?"
>>>
Sunny sat in central command with Max's ordinary friend, Bill, and watched as he tapped away at his computer.
"I think I remember you," she blurted out and he halted in his typing to look at her.
"Really?"
Sunny brushed her hair over one shoulder and nodded. "I was stationed at Wyoming and spent a lot of time in the DNA base. I was good at molecular biology."
Bill gave her a rueful smile. "Sorry, I don't remember you. There were a lot of you and I wasn't really supposed to be in contact with any of you."
"You made an exception in Max's case." It wasn't a question. Sunny knew that he must be someone special for Max to have reacted to him the way she did. Max's eyes didn't light up that way for just anyone and, lately, she'd smiled like that for almost no one. She seemed to be so busy trying to run things that she'd made herself forget that she was still a person.
Sunny wanted to remind her, but there was so much to do, and she hadn't had the time yet. She only hoped that Alec would be able to do something before it was too late.
"Max is always an exception," he replied and swiped at his forehead.
"So what are you doing here?" Biggs asked not unkindly from his position behind them.
Bill sighed. "Lydecker sent me."
Sunny and Biggs stiffened straight away.
"What?" she spat. "Does Max know?"
He rolled his eyes. "Of course. I told her the second I walked in. Lydecker wants to do a deal."
"No dice," Sunny decided and folded her arms defensively against her chest. "Nobody wants to make a deal with the devil."
"Not even to fight a common enemy?" he raised an eyebrow that silenced the blonde.
She was silent for a long moment before spitting out tersely, "Who?"
"White." Bill nodded at her look of surprise. "His agenda is much less friendly than Lydecker's."
Sunny shivered, and rubbed at her bare forearms, feeling chilly all of a sudden. "What do they want?"
"Annihilation and cooperation," he smirked. "In either order."
"Elaborate," Biggs suggested and Bill rubbed his forehead.
"The plain truth of it all is that I am not 100 sure what Deck's motivation is. White wants you all dead and he's not bothered about who gets caught in the crossfire. He sees you as a threat and I don't know why."
Sunny and Biggs, who were party to Pix and Max's information of White's cult leanings, knew why he wanted them erased off the face of the planet, but chose not to elaborate. They didn't have Max's faith in this ordinary…or ordinaries in general and they may have to work with this guy, it didn't mean that they had to like it.
"So what does he want?" Sunny asked meaning Lydecker.
"Deck?" Bill bit his lip, not sure if he should tell her what the military man had actually asked him to bargain for. If everyone knew what was on the man's mind there would be anarchy. "He wants…something that only Max can give," he decided upon.
"And that would be?"
"Between those two." He refused to say anything else. "The point here is that Deck trusts White as far as he can throw him—even before the hearing disaster."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Sunny offered sceptically.
"War makes for strange bed folk," Biggs shook his head and they lapsed into silence, waiting for Max.
>>>
Max edged back from the bed. "Pix?"
"My designation is 418, stationed at Wyoming facility. Project classification level R-red," Pix said, his voice in an odd monotone but getting stronger with every word. "I am authorised to give you nothing else until appropriate clearing is offered."
The group around the bed cast horrified looks at each other. There was no way that this could be true.
Pix had regressed right back to Wyoming? Chance gripped the bed in horror. She knew that Tara had stated this as a possibility, but she had thought it was only an outside chance. The very idea that he didn't know who she was, didn't love her—it hurt.
"Pix." Dek breathed, deciding to address that first. "Your name is Pix."
"My designation is X5-418."
"I'm gonna throw up," Chance said, her face a mask of revulsion.
"I'm X5-452," Max said stalwartly. "I have top level security clearance on Red level two. Commanding Officer. What do you recall, soldier?"
Alec reached forward to touch Max's arm, wondering if playing along would do Pix any good. Shouldn't they tell him that Manticore had been destroyed? Max may be the de facto leader of Terminal City and the transgenics but Pix was part of the figurehead and people needed to see him so as not to lose heart.
He needed to at least play the part, to stop the city from succumbing to hysteria; after all, if White could do this to their leader, what chance did the others have?
"Lights, ma'am," Pix said immediately. "I remember lights and people. I think I was under attack. The last thing I remember was some sort of haze."
"Haze?" Max frowned.
"Like a dream," he continued, swallowing hard. "And you were there, and you were there and you—"
As Chance gaped, Dek caught the mischievous glint in Pix's eye and laughed out loud.
"You evil son of a bitch!"
Pix could no longer keep a straight face and burst out laughing at the same time as Max.
"Asshole!" she remonstrated. "You had us all going there."
"That was mean!" Chance said and reached for some place to slap him that wasn't covered in bruises and bandages. But the relief was evident and the sudden sheen of merriment in his eyes was all the push she needed to decided. Her future was with him. For better or worse.
"Couldn't r-resist," Pix admitted gasping for breath. "How often do I get a c-chance like that? You should have seen your f-faces."
"You wait," Alec vowed retribution but neither he nor the others could wipe the grins of their faces.
Tara walked back into the room to see the sea of happy smiles and realized that Pix was out of danger.
"Ok," she said stridently. "Everyone who isn't medical personnel clear out."
Alec grabbed Chance's hand, ushering her out to tell the others that Pix was fine, Max started to follow them when Pix caught her hand.
"Wait," he asked, his voice low. He cast a look towards the others as they filed out, shooting a reassuring smile at Chance.
Max frowned but allowed the others to leave her alone with him and Tara. There was concern in her voice when she spoke next. "What is it?"
He bit his lip. "I remember everything, even though some of it, I wish I didn't. But I do remember seeing you; I remember you coming to my rescue, and I want to say thanks."
"Alec was there too," she tried to shrug off the praise.
Pix nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "But you and me have a history and I wanted to tell you…" he paused.
"What?" she prompted.
He looked up, the light gone from his eyes and to Max's horror she was confronted by, not the carefree solider he had become, but the scared little boy who had been thrown into the lake back at Wyoming and left to die.
"Pix?" she urged.
"I really can't feel my legs, Max." His voice shook. "I'm dead from the hips down."
He bit his lip and his hand wavered uselessly in the air as he stared down at the offending limbs. "Nothing."
Max's eyes met Tara's in terrified revelation before she reached forward to envelope Pix in a hug, not sure what to say to make this any less devastating.
"A soldier without his legs is a liability, Max!" he said, his voice hoarse.
"Fuck that," she said, dragging her hand through his hair. "You will never be a liability, Pix."
"I step down from command, effectively immediately."
Max's eyes glistened. "I won't let you, asshole."
Pix gaped at her. "You've always been more of a leader than me, Max. You know I never resented you taking charge. Hell, I never wanted the position in the first place."
"I was CO, Pix, but that doesn't make me a leader. My troops follow and that makes me leader. Without them, I'm just a bossy bitch."
"Amen," Tara muttered under her breath and Pix choked on a laugh.
"This," Max gestured to his legs, "is just temporary. You're no less of a person, no less of a soldier, and no less of a friend for it. I refuse to allow you to wallow in self-pity."
"I can't do anything." He growled, allowing his temper to come out.
Max dug into her pocket and pulled out a battered and burnt black book. "The guy who wrote this, the guy who did these things didn't think he couldn't do anything. I bet he wrote them sitting down."
Pix stared at the black book. "Where did you find that?"
Max swallowed. "In your office, buried underneath paperwork." What she didn't tell him was that when she had seen it, something had burst inside her and she'd sat down and bawled for half an hour straight. "You still are someone, Pix. We need you."
"I won't command," he declared not wanting anyone to see him and pity him in this position.
"Then be there for me," Max tossed the book at him. "I need you there to be my support and my backup. If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me."
She placed one last kiss on his forehead and got up to leave.
"Max!" he called and she half-turned, cocking a brow at him.
"For you?" He shrugged. "I can try."
"You'll do better than try." Max knew and walked away, leaving him to think.
>>>
One of Alec's main duties as Max's 2IC was to help her with the final part of her plan to aid the transgenics, so while she was catching up with Pix and probably gaining a status report, Alec was sitting in his office with his cell phone glued to his ear.
He was well aware that White and his men would be monitoring the airwaves but this was something he needed to do.
The phone rang once, twice, and a third time before someone picked it up.
"Hey, Sketchy here."
"Liked your TV debut, Sketch," Alec grinned and almost laughed as he heard Sketchy fumble the phone on the other end.
"Alec?"
"Yeah. How's it hanging, dude?"
"Oh, man!"
Alec could almost hear Sketchy roll his eyes on the other end of the phone and rake his hands through his hair. It was nice to have some semblance of normality when everything around you was going to hell in a hand basket.
"Dude, you were on TV."
Alec felt a mild interest. "Which channel?"
"Uh, all of'em, I think. Hey, did you know Max was a transgenic?"
He fought the urge to laugh. "Yeah, I kinda had a clue when we escaped together."
"Oh, yeah," Sketchy sounded sheepish. "It's just, Max, ya know?"
"She does have a tendency to get under your skin. Anyway, I saw you, too, Sketch. What you said was great. We loved that you'd stick by us."
"You know Normal freaked out when he found out you were transgenics," Sketchy added. "His golden boy. I think he was crushed, until O.C. threatened to put the smack down on his ass for being a…Hey O.C.?" Alec heard him call the diva to the phone. "What did you call Normal?"
"A double-dealing, back-slamming, slum shyster baby dissing on his fave boy and superior sister cuz they weren't straight up birthed babes. Ass. Who you talking to?"
"Alec."
"Lemme talk to him!"
There was a mini wrestling over the phone and O.C. gained control. "Hey, baby boo. How's my girl and what the hell have you been dragging her into now?"
"Max's fine," Alec allowed and then took a deep breath. "We're both fine. A little shaken from what happened out there."
"Straight up," she shuddered. "It scared Original to the core. Peoples is plain nasty and things are getting hotter to handle. What can we do?"
"Put Sketchy back on."
"Fool?"
"Hey Alec, she's got a mean grip."
"Listen," Alec sat up, all traces of humour gone. "You know how you were going for that job as New World Weekly journalist? Did you get it?"
"Yup, freelance. Why?"
"Sketchy, with all this bad press transgenics are getting, what we really need is some pro-press. How would your editor feel about a one on one interview with a transgenic?"
"He'd piss himself."
"We are willing to allow New World Weekly exclusive interviews and our side of the story, complete with names, dates, and all the pictures your little journalistic self can handle. Want it?"
"I'd give a testicle for it."
"Unnecessary," Alec grinned and looked down at his watch. It had been a hell of a night and it wasn't over yet. Pix had only been hurt last night; why did it feel so long ago? "I can find you our least human looking transgenic to interview if you can make it to the gates by six am."
"I'll go talk to Bob now, get him to hold the front page. If we wrap by nine, I can get you on the morning edition" Sketchy said. "Insider scoop!"
"Thanks pal," Alec said. "We need this."
"I won't let you down," Sketchy vowed and rung off.
Alec leaned over on his knees and clasped his hands, as if in prayer. He wasn't worried about Sketchy letting them down.
He was worried about staying alive and keeping everyone else the same way. He sighed deeply and was about to close his eyes when the door opened silently. He knew without looking that it was Max.
"Hey, babe," he said rubbing his head. "Did you know that a few more of the '09ers have arrived? Zane, Ash and some woman with a kid called Tinga…the woman's called Tinga; I think the kid is Chase—or Run, maybe it was Hunt. Something symbolic. I've settled them in East block and they want to talk to you or whoever's in charge, which, I guess, would be you, too."
"Alec?"
"Yeah?" Alec stretched and he looked up into Max's worried eyes, "What's wrong…now?"
She bit her lip. "I need to tell you about Pix."
>>>
Lydecker was not happy.
Scratch that.
He hadn't been happy when he had been assigned to Ames 'so-incredibly-dead' White. He had been less than pleased when he found out that White had been killing his kids. He had been rather pissed when he discovered that Ames White had a hidden agenda that wasn't in favour of either his kids or his race. He was angry when White had cornered Max and let her go, and he had been downright furious when White set the nation on his kids.
Now he was past furious and into homicidally murderous and when he got his hands on the agent, he would kill him.
Plain and simple.
Or slowly and painfully, which ever worked best.
He clenched and unclenched his fists, wishing that they were wrapped tightly around someone's throat. At this point he wouldn't care whose.
His eyes flickered to the television that played White's "revelation" in a never ending loop on every single channel.
And when the stations weren't playing that, they were awash with the hover drone footage of transgenics in a bloodbath.
It hadn't taken him long to identify Max. The others he was only aware of marginally, but the way that 452 had handled herself was nothing short of majestic. The fact that it catapulted her to the spotlight was irrelevant.
He wanted her.
Not in the way that most men would want her, but the way that a good captain would want a top soldier; the way a manager would sell his soul for that quarterback; the way a woman wanted those shoes.
Max had grown up into the epitome of all he was trying to create. She was the pinnacle of perfection and she could be his; if he played his cards right.
That was why he had sent Bill to the camp as a peace offering. He knew that she would come willingly if she thought that there was a possibility that she could help. Loyalty was her main weakness as well as her most valuable asset.
And she would come…if White hadn't scared her away.
"Sir!" Someone disturbed his musings and he turned to see Otto looking intently at him.
"What is it, Mendez?"
"You have to see this, sir. Quickly."
Lydecker frowned and followed him into the other room where anther television set was playing.
"I have been following the news, Mendez."
"Yes, sir, but this came over the set not ten minutes ago. We were monitoring the transgenics and almost missed it."
Lydecker folded his arms and waited with forced patience as the man switched on the set.
When the twin bands of red and blue swirled across the set, he was caught.
This is an Eyes Only broadcast, direct from among you. People, we have been duped. We think that the main threat to our lives is transgenics? We are wrong—I was wrong. I have conclusive proof that there is an even deeper agenda; a reason why these transgenics were made. They were made to protect us from an even greater threat.
They call themselves The Cult, and are a breeding program dating back further than even Christ. They want to create a master race, a race of super humans to replace us all. For centuries they have been waiting in positions of power, ready to take over and wipe us out. That time was near at hand when one of their own turned against them. He wanted to give us a fighting chance, and so the transgenics were created to defend us against them. Eyes Only has proof that they exist, have existed for centuries, and want us all dead and gone. Their agenda is to first take out our last line of defence—the transgenics— then to kill us all.
It was they who let loose the bio-toxin that killed hundreds and left Terminal City a waste land; it was they who loosed the pulse, rebelling against a technologically advanced human race. They are among us, and they will not stop until we are cattle.
Eyes Only has a list of names of members, some of the highest members of our society, waiting to lead us to the slaughter. Here is a list of those names.
If we rid the world of transgenics, we are making ourselves slaves.
Fight against the cult.
Peace out.
There was a flash of green and a list of names began to make its way down the screen.
Senator James McKinley
The Right Honourable Judge Allen
Bishop Greg Greenwall
Dr. Aku Neko
Colonel T. Marthinussen
Lady Charlotte Vincent
Special Agent Ames White
"Holy crap," Otto breathed. "Is this true, sir? Sir?"
Lydecker was so intent on staring at the names that filtered down the screen that he hardly heard the man asking for verification.
"Sir?"
Lydecker started. "What?"
"Is it true, sir?" Otto frowned. "It seems somewhat farfetched."
"Oh, it's true," Lydecker reiterated. "In fact, Mendez, I think that we should make sure no slip of this reaches the mainstream media. There is a man I know who works for Channel 52; his number is on my desk. I think you should call him anonymously and let him know that this is all…conjecture and in no way endorsed by Manticore—not that we exist."
Mendez blinked. "In no way endorsed by the secret project that shouldn't exist, sir?"
"How can our organization be real when the man who revealed its existence is part of an organization that doesn't exist and hasn't for centuries?"
The delicious irony tasted good to Lydecker and he ran his tongue over his teeth as the connotations of this echoed in his head.
"Do you understand, Otto?"
Mendez looked at him and decided on honesty. "I have a headache."
Lydecker sighed. "Our denial will be taken as proof, not only that the Cult exists, but also that Manticore exists. It will also highlight that those who denied our existence have something to hide. The media attention will shift to the Cult and not on us and we will be free to bring the kids home."
"Oh," Mendez frowned. Really, there was something off with Lydecker's reasoning.
"Maybe Bill has something for us," Lydecker mused and walked away, leaving Mendez shaking his head in bewilderment.
>>>
The pretty brunette sat up straighter in her chair and stared at the camera.
"Good evening I'm Zsuzanna Day, and here is the news from Channel 52. Seattle and, indeed, the whole nation, was rocked today by an international broadcast from cyber journalist 'Eyes Only'. In this revelatory news bulletin, he told the world of a secret cult, hidden for centuries within our own culture, as the members seek global domination. He pointed the finger at many well known authority figures. Our news correspondent Nevanroy Ishtari has the details." She swung in her chair to face a large screen behind her and touched her earpiece. "Nev—what can you tell us?"
The man on the screen nodded to an off-screen direction and faced the camera.
"Well, Zsu, I'm here outside the gates of Terminal City, the fortress behind which holds some of the most powerful super humans on the planet. Or are they? Only hours ago the Eyes Only broadcast was transmitted to mixed reactions: scepticism, healthy cynicism, and not just a little fear."
"Can you tell us something about the broadcast?"
"Eyes Only, a staunch supporter of the transgenics, has compiled a list of people he says he can prove are part of a centuries-old cult with a single agenda: to be number one on our fair planet. In his broadcast he transmitted data–analysed by top experts—which shows that this cult has been working to breed the perfect human. Top athletes, scientists, and models have been named as products of this bastardisation of genetics, and scientists are calling it "playing god"; a sentence that they were attributing to the transgenics only days ago."
"How conclusive is this proof?"
"As of yet Eyes Only is only releasing parts of the information, but we have had corroboration from a source within the supposedly mythical Manticore project, that it is all true and the transgenics were actually designed to protect us."
"How have these cult members been achieving their aims?"
"This is the truly shocking part, Zsuzanna. They've done it by systematically raping women for centuries in order to birth babies of superior genes. We have a statement from a victim of this enforced gestation who is willing to go public: a woman who was rescued from a facility by a transgenic."
"What is the general feeling down there at the moment, Nev?"
"Nervousness, anticipation, and something of a turning of the tide, Zsu. There is a feeling that anything could happen."
"Thank you, Nev. Keep us posted." She turned back to the studio camera. "In what is one of the most shocking moves, Eyes Only named not only Senator McKinley but also Special Agent Ames White, who was instrumental in releasing details of the fabled Project Manticore. Neither men were available for comment, and one has to wonder whether there is, indeed, truth in this outrageous claim. Someone who not only believes but has seen the proof for himself is here with us in the studio. May I introduce New World Weekly journalist Calvin Simon Theodore."
"Call me Sketchy," said the tousled-haired blond.
The woman blinked, then smiled. "Mr. Sketchy, only this morning you released an interview from inside Terminal City. Tell me, how are you on such easy terms with transgenics?"
"I worked with one, well, two for ages." Sketchy tugged on his tie. "Max Guevara and Alec McDowell were two of my best friends when I worked at Jam Pony—a bike messenger service right here in Seattle. It wasn't until I saw them on the news that I realised what they were."
"Were you horrified?"
"No," he scoffed. "Max stuck her neck out for me again and again and I knew that there was nothing that she wouldn't do to keep me safe. She's a kick-ass chick and a straight-up friend. It's all good."
"You trust her?"
"With my life and my country," Sketchy said, sounding natural and somewhat patriotic. "When I realised how my friends were being stiffed by the press, I asked New World Weekly to give them the benefit of the doubt and was allowed to take an interview with one of the transgenics: an anomaly called Dix."
"We have a photograph of this transgenic," Zsuzanna said and the photo still popped up of the monocled anomaly. "Is he dangerous?"
"That's an unfair question," Sketchy said. "The wrong driver behind the wheel of a car is dangerous. A kid with a gun is dangerous. Transgenics are as different from each other as you are from me. This dude…uh, guy is actually really cool. He dug trenches in the Mohave during the eco-wars of the post-pulse era and he is killer with electronics. He fixed me up a walkman in thirty minutes."
"So they are not all monsters."
"No way," Sketchy shook his head. "They have kids in there. Some kids who were locked in basements by the military because they didn't look like us. It sucks to be them, man. I mean they have tails and shit—uh, stuff." He grimaced. "The point is that I think they just want to be left alone, like any of us. But this cult won't let them."
"Ah yes, the story of the hour." Zsuzanna looked down at her notes. "Do you believe in this cult? I mean, it sounds pretty far-fetched."
"Any more than human/animal DNA meshing? Any more than being able to talk to someone on another continent in less than twenty seconds? Far fetched is only because the shi—uh, stuff hasn't happened yet. I believe that this cult is real and a real threat. If transgenics were designed to keep our sorry asses safe then we need to let them do their job. The Cult started the pulse to hold us back; they unleashed a virus to destroy our guardians which went screwy, causing a whole city to be, like, wiped out, dude. If this cult wants us stomped out like bugs then I say we need to pick a side. I know who has my loyalty."
"Thank you, Mr. Sketchy. Well, there you have it. The Cult verses the human race with the transgenics as our protectors; what do you think? Call us on 555-5494 to comment."
>
Alec turned to Max with a raised eyebrow and she smiled.
"I think he did well."
Alec shook his head, bemusedly. "I guess."
"Be more optimistic, Alec," Max laughed. "It's not the end of the world."
"Yet." Alec inclined his head. "Although he did look kinda weird in that suit."
Max punched his arm and turned back to the command central crew. "Hey guys, how's it going?"
"Good." Techie looked up and gave her two thumbs up. "We finished the siren alarm and it's rigged to ring pretty much anywhere in Terminal City."
"Because with transgenics hearing, we need one in every courtyard," Isacar said dryly.
"Better safe than massacred," Ben replied from his perch on the desk.
"Do we need to do a drill?" Flex wondered out loud. Off Max's look, he elaborated. "See, we've got a list and we've contacted everyone who can't or won't fight. As soon as the siren wails they'll congregate to an elected point where we can get them out. I was just wondering if we need a drill to practice."
"And scare everyone?" Skye snorted. "If they're dumb enough to miss the siren and know what's going on then they don't deserve to live."
"Skye the humanitarian," Flex mocked as he pulled her closer. "Ooh, you know it makes me hot when you get tough."
"Ew." Zeph wrinkled his nose. "That's gross."
Flex looked up from his amorous embrace. "Trust me, kid, some day this won't seem gross."
"When it does, can you let me know?" Alec fake-shuddered.
Skye stuck her tongue out at him. "It's called puberty. Let us know when you hit it."
Ben smothered a laugh as Alec spun to glare at him. "Around the time Ben does cursive writing."
"Children!" Skye countered glancing from a smirking Alec to a bemused Ben. "If you kids can't play nice then take it…I sound like someone's mother."
"Mine?" Zeph said hopefully and tucked his hand into hers. She winked at him.
"What are we all gathered here for anyway?" Cece said as she twisted in her seat. "I'm talked out and my bladder feels like three people have taken up residency."
There was a moment's silence.
"Thanks for sharing that with us, Cece. I don't know about everyone else but I feel enriched by the knowledge and will endeavour to be a better person." Everyone looked at Zane. "What?" He shrugged. "I'm new so I can't join in?"
Max grinned at him and felt her heart turn over at his lopsided smile. Her brother Zane was adorable. With his long strawberry blond hair and baby blue eyes he reminded her of a lovable cocker spaniel, and she wanted to smile every time she saw him.
Apparently, it was mutual.
"So, baby girl, what's the meet for?"
"That would be me."
At those words there was a general clamour and people swung around to see Dek wheel Pix into the room.
His face was still bruised and battered but he looked much better than he had done previously. His arm was still in a sling which explained Dek's pushing him around. Chance hovered behind his wheelchair as if she wasn't sure he wouldn't fall out if she moved more than five feet away. She'd offered to push the chair but had gotten such a glare from Pix that she thought maybe it was best not to. She'd be the first to admit that maybe she overreacted to his injury and he'd been great about her neuroses. Right up until she tried to tuck him in and spoon feed him. Then he'd told her in no uncertain terms to knock it off before he knocked her out.
It settled her equilibrium somewhat..
They all watched, some with eyes not totally dry, as Pix came slowly up the ramp that led to command central.
He was wheeled in front of them and smiled at their rapt expressions. "Hey guys, thanks for making me feel so welcome. In no way do I feel like a freak at all."
"Good," Emma said. "Of course if everyone said that they missed you and wanted you back, you wouldn't blush at all."
Pix grinned. "Course not."
"Welcome back," Alec said sincerely and reached over to slap Pix on the back.
"OW!"
Alec froze. "Did I hurt you?"
"No." Pix laughed. "Man, that is never gonna get old."
"Jerk."
"Hey, pal," Ben smiled. "Nice wheels."
"Yeah," Pix thought for a second and raised his voice. "I warn you all right now. Any Ironside jokes will be regarded as an act of war and will be treated as such."
"Aye, aye, sir," Carrot agreed.
Pix eyed Ben. "I hear I missed a good fist fight."
"More of a scrap than a fight," Zan added, not looking in Alec's direction.
"Should you be out of the hospital?" Flex suddenly piped up and Pix shot him a glower. He'd been fussed and fretted over enough already—someone asking him if he was okay every five minutes—and he was sick of it. If he hadn't gotten out of the hospital for the meeting, he would have said something that he'd regret.
"Yes. I should."
"Are you sure, Pix?" Chance's tremulous voice came from behind. "I can take you back if you want."
"No." His teeth were almost gritted. "I'm fine. While I breathe, I will be out here with you; even if Max has replaced me as leader—and about damn time, too."
"You can take back the reigns if you want." Max leaned back on the table and looked into his pale face. "This job sucks."
"No, the pants suit you better. But," he cautioned, "I want to know what Old Bill had to say to you."
Max knew that every eye was on her and she took a deep breath. "He was sent here by Lydecker." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she could feel the tension and heard the intake of breath.
"What?" Alec exploded, this being the first he had heard of it. "And you not only let him in here, but let him go?"
Max shook her head. "Lydecker has Bill's family. Bill told me at the risk of his wife and daughter and I won't hear a word against him."
"What does Lydecker want?" Alec tried to rein in his temper.
"He has been working with White but realises that White has a hidden agenda. Bill said that Lydecker knows White is against the transgenics and that he has set traps to try to kill us."
"Old news," Sunny scoffed.
"Lydecker thinks he has something…more up his sleeve, as we found out at the hearing."
"So Deck's news is out," Pix said scratching his nose.
Zan just folded his arms and looked at Max, knowing Lydecker better than that. "Max?"
"He's offered the use of the two other facilities. They've been moved from Wyoming and Atlanta after the Seattle explosion and he knows the new sites. He's offered us the whole support of X-series and transgenics if White mounts a large scale attack—or gets humans to do it. Apparently, Old Deck doesn't want us dead."
"So he's offered us this out of the blackness of his heart?" Zan frowned. "What does he want in exchange?"
"Us," Max paused, "or more specifically—me."
"What?"
"No way!"
"The hell with that!"
"Uh huh."
"What for?" Carrot's voice was the most moderate amidst the cacophony of explosions at her revelation, so Max answered him.
"He wants all of us to rejoin Manticore voluntarily as militia or military aids; to go on missions and, apparently, be paid for it."
"None of us will willingly be under Manticore again," Drew spat. "We can't trust them not to bag and tag us. I won't go back in a cage."
"I won't risk Psy Ops," Alec agreed. "But why does he want you?"
Max bit her lip and spoke in a mocking tone. "Lydecker sees me a shining example of what transgenics can achieve; created, ostracised, beaten but never broken, neglected but still number 1." She laughed contemptuously. "He said that he will leave everyone else alone if I join the re-standardized Manticore as figurehead: attend lectures, teach transgenics. He said that he'll offer support to everyone who wants in, but he wants me specifically."
"So did you tell him to go screw himself?" Alec wanted to know.
"No, she didn't." Ben looked at her and answered in lieu. "She said she'll see, didn't you, Max?"
Max nodded somewhat amazed at her brother's ability to see through her. "If Ames White and his cult members are as bad as they seem and they have biological warfare on their side and also manage to turn humans against us…" she trailed off.
"We'll need all the help we can to stay alive," Dek finished, casting her a rueful grin.
There was a brief moment of silence.
"Well, that in no way sucks," Isacar said with his usual succinct delivery.
Skye smiled as Galen pulled her hair. She turned her attention to the still silent boy and he regarded her with wide eyes. She felt her heart pound as she stared at the small boy. There was no way that she was letting either Lydecker or White get their hands on this boy; he had been through enough already.
"I don't like the idea of making a pact with the devil to protect us from the demons," said Zane.
"Nice imagery," Dek said approvingly. "But what can we do, if we are outnumbered and the Cult is as good as they seem? Aiden and I were only up against a few and they were kicking our asses."
"Pansy," Pix pseudo coughed and ignored Dek's glare.
"Dek's right," Max agreed.
"And that's not something you hear often," Alec said in an aside.
Max shook her head again. "White and his gang mean trouble, and we have to be thinking ahead. The PR battle is just one aspect of this war. We need for humans to be on our side. Any suggestions?"
"Charity work?" Skye offered dubiously.
"Yeah, we could give out pin badges saying 'I love transgenics' and hold a bake sale and offer free coffee to everyone," Cece said sarcastically.
"Do you have to work at being an obnoxious bitch, or is it natural?" Isacar shot back in defence of his surrogate mother.
"This is how I've always been," Cece defended and Isacar raised an eyebrow.
"Well, do you want us to accept you as you are, or do you want us to like you?"
"I love this kid!" Dek laughed out loud, clapping his hands in appreciation of the insult. "Can I keep him?"
"No," Flex said with a look of approval to Isacar.
"Getting back on track," Pix said, muffling his own enjoyment at the exchange. "Do we accept Lydecker's proposal?"
"No."
"Hell no."
"Maybe."
People turned to Skye and she hugged Galen to her.
"Skye?" Flex asked in astonishment.
"Look, I don't want to be a part of Manticore any more than anyone. But neither do I want to die. Steve's death wasn't just so we could walk back into Manticore, but neither was it so we could be annihilated by some cult with delusions of Hitler. I say some will want to rejoin Manticore, if we can guarantee that we aren't caged and are free to come and go as we please and if we get remuneration. Some won't want an idle life and some won't be able to hack not doing missions and using our given talents, and we should allow them that freedom; otherwise," she shrugged, "we're just as bad as Manticore."
Flex reached over and took her hand. "Brains and beauty. I'm spoiled." He kissed her fingers and she flushed.
"Skye has a point; we can't make the decision for everyone," Alec sighed. "But what can we do?"
Chance smiled shyly. "We can't all run; that would be wrong. Can we hide?"
"Having lived on the outside," Zack offered, "maybe one or two could disappear indefinably, even ten or twenty, but hundreds of us?"
"And there are more every day," Techie nodded.
"Some of us are not exactly blend-in material," Feen piped up looking over at Mole.
"I'm done running," Jondy said. "I say we have ourselves a nice old showdown. No pretty pansy white-bread all American collegiate is gonna run me outta mine. I'm done being anyone's chew toy. I'm up for sticking it out and sticking it to'em."
"I agree…I think." Dek gave her an odd look. "As long as that wasn't dirty."
"I can show you dirty," Jondy winked at him and Drew cleared her throat.
"Not if you want to leave this room with all four limbs."
Jondy held her hands up. "No harm, no foul, chica. Didn't know he was stamped."
"I—agree with Jondy," Zack said slowly to the surprise of all there. "When there were twelve of us scatter and lay low was the plan. It was not feasible before; but since we have these numbers, it makes more strategic sense to give a show of strength and stand firm."
"If Zack's on board then I am too," Jace nodded.
"Me three," B.J. concurred.
"All in favour of a last stand?" Pix asked and put his good arm in the air in a solid punch.
He was followed by every hand in quick succession.
"I'm in," Dek said. "But can we not call it that? Last stand sounds so…final. I have no desire to die for my cause."
"No?"
"No," he said decisively. "I want White to die for his."
There was nothing to say to that.
>>>
Across town in another meeting room sat figures far more sinister than those in Terminal City.
The Conclave of Familiars sat in a circle with hands stretched out in front, their faces drawn and harried.
"How could we have no contingency plan for this?" snapped one white-robed man.
"How could we?" another countered. "Nothing like this has, or was thought to be able, to happen."
"Not even during the conspiracy theories of the sixties has this ever been an issue!" The High Priestess spoke aloud and all winced. "And it shouldn't be now. How in the name of our ancestors did they find us out? Who is Eyes Only and why hasn't he been silenced already?"
"We thought he was small potatoes," White admitted, disgusted with himself. "His meanderings were amusing but with no real basis, until he started on the transgenic bandwagon."
"Now he is a threat and has exposed us!" The Director sneered. "You handled that well, Brother White."
"Our problem isn't that he exposed us," Sister Salter interrupted. "It's that people believe him. That would never have been an issue before. Conspiracy nuts abound but this guy has proof."
Brother Solstrale growled. "How did he get proof?"
"452," White spat and everyone looked at him. "You will remember the breach to security at one of the facilities outside Seattle. A transgenic 'rescued' a test subject and escaped. She was one of 452s crew. She must have reported her findings back and 452 gave them to Eyes Only."
"It doesn't matter how they got it, what matters is retrieving it."
"But the information is out there now," someone countered. "Maybe this is a blessing in disguise."
White turned around to see the High Priest speak, his hands tented in front of him, he spoke in a measured tone but everyone hung on his words.
"How?" the High Priestess asked.
"Simple; we move our plans up. We weren't going to assume control for some years, but this is a prime opportunity. People believe in us and hate transgenics; we could use the current climate of fear and uncertainty. Wipe out the transgenics with the full backing of the people that they were designed to protect, and then the mewling hoards won't have a leg to stand on when they are taken over. They'll have been instrumental in their own downfall. It's," he searched for a word, "delicious irony."
"What do you suggest?"
He stood and moved the head of the room, tucking his hands behind his back and regarding them one by one.
"We can no longer hide in shadows; we have been pushed into the light and we want to stay there. Our plans are not rendered obsolete but we need to redress how we achieve them. Exposure is our first priority; we can deal with the very human Eyes Only after we take care of the greater threat—transgenics. I say we mount an offensive and kill them. Kill them all."
White smirked. "I have no problem with that. I can get a team together and take them out."
"No," The Director snapped. "You had your chance, Brother White. We will use the Phalanx."
"No," barked White before he could think about what he was saying. All members of the conclave looked at him in stoic disapproval and he frantically back peddled. "A thousand apologies, but bringing in this team now could further compromise my cover at the Agency."
The High Priestess nodded. "Your Agency position has served us well, Ames, but the Conclave feels that it has served it purpose."
"With all due respect to the Conclave, bringing in outside muscle is not the solution to this problem."
The High Priest grinned nastily. "Hardly outside muscle. The Phalanx are the best we have—the elite of our warrior breeding line, the tip of the spear. They come by direct order of the Conclave, so discussion is pointless."
White looked around at the faces who had already decided his fate and future before he could have a say.
And now there was nothing he could say. "I bow to the wisdom."
The High Priest smirked. "I knew you'd see it our way. I have taken the liberty of inviting them to our meeting."
White fought the urge to surge to his feet in outrage as the outer door opened and two robed children ushered in the elite fighting force of the Cult.
White admittedly had mixed feelings about the Phalanx. As a child, he had been reared to believe that they were the thing to aspire to: the elite among elites. After he had passed his test to be initiated, his father had taken him aside and urged him to try out for the team, in this case it was to be almost a fight to the death.
Ames had applied to become Phalanx, knowing full well that he excelled in brains as well as in brawn, but it was to no avail. To his utter humiliation he was considered too short.
No matter he was speedy and agile, strong and fit, he was just too small to be taken in as one of them and it had been a bitter pill to swallow. He thought that that year was the lowest of his life—that was, until his father had been revealed and exiled as a traitor.
That had really topped everything as the lowest point in his life.
But when the Amazonian woman with bright red hair and a sardonically curled upper lip muscled into the room followed by three other six foot men he wondered if this would top it all.
"Fe'nes'tol. I'm Thula, team leader."
"Four won't do it," White said bluntly.
White sneered as Thula had to angle her entire body to turn to him, her oh-so-impressive muscles hampering regular motion.
She smirked at him. "I've heard a lot about you, Brother White. I'm surprised you couldn't handle one girl on your own. Besides, we are legion."
"You'll need to be; your target's a little more than just a girl."
Thula frowned with a curling sneer. "You defend your failure by flattering your enemy?"
"452 is a threat to everything we've worked for throughout the generations. Her death is essential for our way of life."
Thula nodded. "Don't worry, Brother. We'll clean your mess up for you. In fact we'll be leaving in ten minutes to start the clean-up; feel free to tag along. Just don't get in the way. We're not short on help."
There was a smatter of muffled laughter and White clenched his fists.
White gritted his teeth and bowed to the Priests. "I have to go. Fe'ne'stol."
They repeated the farewell and he hurried out, wondering if he could provoke Lydecker into a good old fashioned fist fight—it wouldn't take him ten minutes to kill him, would it?
>>>
Although there weren't many places in Terminal City where you could find peace and quiet, those with an enterprising spirit and a healthy need for solitude could always find some secluded place to be alone.
Aiden had discovered one such place whilst on patrol and he had brought Nyx to the abandoned park on one side of Terminal City.
Aiden smiled at Nyx as they sat on the swings, hands touching as they swung back and forth gently in the small breeze.
"So are you helping Flex and Skye with their evac program?"
Nyx rolled her eyes. "I think Flex knows I'm hardly the people-person type. He gives me the names and I write them down. That way I don't actually have to, you know, talk to them or anything."
"Daddy Flex knows best," he teased and she smiled.
"He'd be mad if you called him that."
"You won't tell him," Aiden said confidently. "But he just wants to take care of you guys, I get that. Skye is dead set against any of you kids going back to Manticore."
"Are you?" She wanted to know.
"Hell, yeah," Aiden shuddered. "That place always gave me the creeps. I just want somewhere I can hang out and be myself."
"Can't you do that in Manticore?"
He looked at her oddly. "No. It always felt like someone was watching us. Even when they took the cameras out of the rec rooms, it always felt like we were on show. No one can be relaxed when they think someone is watching them."
"Maybe not, but Manticore protected us. I mean, after what happened to Pix, I would have thought that you'd be glad of that protection."
Aiden frowned. "In case it slipped your notice, Nyx, Manticore tried to barbecue us. Call me crazy, but that kind of protection I can do without."
Nyx looked away and Aiden regarded her thoughtfully. Nyx almost seemed like she was pro-Manticore and that was something that he never imagined would have happened: that anyone could have actually liked the place.
"Nyxie?" he coaxed. "Did you want to rejoin Manticore?"
The thoughtful girl looked away. "You don't have to look at me like I'm crazy, Aiden. I know that everyone hates the very idea of going back."
"But not you?"
"No," she blurted as if the words had been waiting to come out forever. "Not me."
He sat back in his swing and stared, somewhat pole-axed, at the surrounding scenery. He couldn't find answers in the rolling hills and rusty metal of the abandoned buildings, so he turned back to her.
"Why, Nyx? I don't get it. I mean, Manticore was a cage. They told us what to do, wear to go, how to dress. Why do you miss that?"
Nyx leaned back against her swing rope and dangled her legs over the edge, looking smaller than she was; younger and even more innocent.
"Did I ever tell you that I was squad leader when we were in Manticore? We were too young for having COs but I was on track for that too."
"I didn't know that," Aiden admitted. "But you do have something of a leader in you."
"That's what everyone back at Manticore said: natural leader." She sighed and swiped her hands against her trousers as if they were sweaty. "I had a girl in my squad who I was…fond of; X5-338. She always made me laugh.
The beds in her dorm creaked; she wondered if hers was the only dorm with beds that squeaked. It often seemed to her that Manticore was so streamlined and precise, so hard and military that everything should be shiny clean and shipshape. And yet her bed and the beds of her squad squeaked with every single shift and shuffle that the sleeping children made.
And they moved around a lot. Maybe it was because their steps were so monitored and regimented during the day that the night was the only time that they had to be as restless and unregimented and…and…free as they wanted.
But that didn't stop the constant squeak of bed springs being noisy and off-putting. It didn't stop the rustle of low-budget, almost wafer-thin bedding from digging into her mind like sharp shards of glass unable to soothe her to sleep.
She lay back and closed her eyes tighter, wishing for unconsciousness to take her, breathing through her mouth she tried to count the number of times she had heard "Eyes Front" this week.
There was a giggle from her left.
She sat up, frustrated and more than a little angry at being forced to be awake at this time. "Don't make me report you!" she hissed but the giggle just came harder. "Stop it!"
"I can't help it!" said a tiny voice, smothered in humour. "I could almost hear you counting E-F's."
099 couldn't help the wry grin that flickered over her lips at that. Her team-mate 338 always had that effect on her, always made her smile and, somehow, managed to make the days less stressful. "Can't you sleep either?" she asked.
"Nope," 338 said cheerfully. "I'm excited."
"It's only a mission," 099 rolled her eyes. "People go on them all the time."
"But this is different," 338 said, her sheets rustling as she sat up in bed. "This one is ours! To think that we are being allowed out on our own!"
"Hardly on our own," 099 said acerbically.
"It was one of the first missions that we ever went on," Nyx said. "We were so excited. 338 more than anyone."
"I remember taking my first mission," Aiden said softly as she trailed off. "What happened?"
"We were assigned to play the part of a school group going to a museum where there was some artefact that some rich guy had paid Manticore to get. They never really told us the specifics," she said. "We dressed up in blazers and miniskirts and went to this museum. The idea was for one of us kids to wander off and get lost so that one of the Trainers could cut loose from the group and search. They'd take us to the mark so that they'd have an excuse if things went sideways."
"They chose you?"
Nyx nodded. "I walked off and just walked around the museum, savouring the 'freedom'. I overheard another tour group discussing atrocities of the world war. I listened to their spiel about free choice and pro-life and some of it went in. Then when my Trainer caught me and took me to the chamber where he tried to take the artefact, something went wrong. A guard had been tipped off and was waiting at the security desk. My Trainer ordered me to go in the room while he distracted the guard. I was to kill anyone who was in there and take the damn thing." She frowned. "I can't even remember what it was."
"Go on," Aiden offered.
"I went in to the room and I can remember it being so cold in there, freezing. Or maybe I was just nervous. The four walls were an icy blue and there, in the middle of the room, was a glass case with the…I think it was a rock. There was a guard dozing in one corner. So I tried to take it sneakily. The guard didn't wake as I took out my tools and bored a hole in the glass. He didn't wake as I deactivated the pressure sensitive cushion or when I slipped the rock in my pocket. I would have just walked out with it but I remembered that the Trainer had told me to kill him. But he hadn't done anything and asleep he looked so innocent and harmless. I hesitated, not sure what to do. That's when the Trainer burst in thinking that I had already dispatched the guard. He made so much noise that the guard woke, disorientated and dizzy. He shot the Trainer." Nyx took a deep breath. "I think the Trainer managed one shot before his gun slipped out of his hands. The guard caught it on the shoulder. It was enough to knock him back but not enough to stop him going for the alarm. The Trainer was screaming at me to shoot him again, to stop him. I couldn't."
"It's not your fault, plenty of people freeze in their first mission. I heard Flex threw up," he tried to make her smile but she was too lost in her memories.
"Then things went crazy. The Trainer was screaming at me, the man was sobbing and crawling to try to get the alarm and I had the gun in my hand. 'Follow orders' he was screaming and I ran over to the guard and pulled the trigger. His brains—" Nyx swallowed. "The guard had had time to set off the alarm and more guards were on the way. The alarm was wailing and the Trainer was still screaming. I grabbed him and ran for the exit but the shields had come down, blocking us off. We raced down this impossibly long corridor just trying to find a way out. Then she appeared."
"She?"
"338," Nyx bit her lip. "She'd wondered what was taking so long and she'd slipped away from the group to come find me, see if I was okay. As she rounded the corner the guards arrived. They saw me with a gun, a guy bleeding and a girl running towards us. They opened fire on me."
"They shot you?" Aiden stopped the swing and laid a hand on Nyx's back but she shook her head.
"338 leaped in the way, covering me. The bullet went into her chest. I remember feeling irritated because her blood spattered on my face. Irritated!" She gave a hollow laugh. "She'd saved my life. There I was, dragging a dead man, holding a dead girl, a gun in one hand and no way out. Manticore Trainers appeared out of nowhere and took control. They killed the guards, took the bodies and whisked us back to Manticore."
"Your friend?"
"Died." Her tone was flat, as if she had leeched all emotion out of herself with the confession. "It was my fault."
"You were a child."
"I was a soldier," she burst out. "My only commission was to follow orders and I didn't, and she died because of that. I was saved by Manticore who was protecting us from Ordinaries. If I had followed the orders that Trainer gave me, I wouldn't have screwed up and she wouldn't be dead. If you follow orders then no one gets hurt. They drilled that into me in Psy-Ops over the next four weeks. If you miss the line then it's all your fault. When Manticore gives the rules you don't have to worry about the consequences of not following them," her voice croaked and tears pooled in her eyes. "Every time I thought about leaving Manticore. I thought about 338. She died so that I could fulfil my mission."
"If she was truly your friend, she would want to make you happy," Aiden said quietly, watching as a single tear tracked down her face. "Would going back to Manticore make you happy?"
Nyx shook her head quickly and wrapped her arms around herself. "No," she whispered.
"She seemed to me to have a healthy desire for free will. If she came to find you then she was willing to disregard the rules to make sure you were alive. She wouldn't want you to sacrifice that life to go back to living in a cage."
Nyx swiped at her face. "She doesn't even have a name. I am the only one who even remembers her and she doesn't have a name."
Aiden reached over and stroked the tears from her face. "We'll give her one."
Nyx leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder sniffling at the memories.
Aiden smiled against her hair and kissed the feathery strands. The mystery of Nyx was becoming clearer and with everything that she revealed he was falling more and more for her. They say that still water ran deep and he felt awed to know that beneath her stoic exterior lay oceanic depths that enticed him to dive in.
"Thank you for sharing her with me," he whispered and she stiffened, looking up into his eyes. "I love you."
Nyx blinked. "I don't know what that means."
"It means I want to be around you all the time. It means I want to share everything with you and protect you and keep you safe and happy. I want to fight with you and kiss you and just listen to you."
Nyx smiled tremulously, her emotions in uproar. "I'd like that."
Aiden nodded and laid a hand on both sides of her face, leaning in and starting a slow sensual assault on her mouth. Nyx felt her body stiffen in surprise and the she sort of melted, bonelessly sliding into his arms and pressing herself against him. Her pulse thickened and her blood pounded. By the time she managed to open her eyes he was leaning back against his swing rope watching her with a lop-sided grin.
She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak. "Do you hear bells?"
"Don't you want a ring first?"
Nyx frowned, not having a clue what he meant and then she sat up. "No, actual bells."
Aiden listened, his face growing pale. "Shit, the siren! We're under attack."