Walking Wounded 14/?
Title: Walking Wounded 14/?
Author: miashay
Characters: Season 2 Dark Angel cast
Ratings/Warnings: R overall for violent imagery and sensitive topics
Word Count: 2841
Summary: Dalton and Alec instigate Plan B, shit blows up, and things go from bad to worse.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
Excessive Ordnance
They were not a part of the plan.
Plan A, that is, the first plan, the best plan. Plan A meant doing his job neatly and quietly, and going undetected. Plan A meant perfection, no deviations, no screw-ups, and absolutely no hostages. Hostages were not a part of the plan.
Luckily, Alec had been doing this a lot longer than Dalton, whose very genetics, combined with his years at Manticore, made him far better at following orders than thinking on his feet. Alec had expected that. Pale and focused, with smatterings of blood from Dalton’s bullet still smeared across his face, he had calmly explained exactly what Dalton needed to do, should Plan A fail.
“Always have a contingency plan, kid. Nothing’s foolproof- your back ups should have back ups.”
The back up for Plan A (Plan B, as it so happened) allowed for hostages. Plan B meant zip-ties in his pockets and a secured room ready for use; close by, yet safe outside the various blast radii of the explosives they were planting. Plan B meant acting the soldier, disciplined and distant, unflinching and full of conviction, with no room to be swayed.
It was a role Dalton had been trained for, a role he was accustomed to. It allowed him to shed all the uncertainty and anxiety he’d been feeling since being shot, and to find comfort in the routine.
So, when Original Cindy, Zero and Dax stumbled across him setting explosives in the hall leading to Command, Dalton knew just what to do.
------------------------------------------
“Where you takin’ us, Dalton?” Original Cindy asked.
She sounded nervous and maybe a little confused, but not frightened. He needed her frightened. It was unfortunate, yet necessary. He’d already pointed a gun at OC’s head and made her restrain herself, he wasn’t sure what else he could do that would make her take him seriously, make her stop asking questions.
“They have to believe you’ll go through with whatever you threaten, or there’s no reason for them to cooperate. Idle threats won’t cut it.”
Dalton had set down this path and he needed to see it through. If he could shoot Alec and plant explosives around Terminal City, he could threaten OC, Dax and Zero. He was capable and in control, a soldier with a purpose. He could do this.
“Where are you taking us?”
It was Zero asking this time; voice calm and serious.
“Do you even know what you’re doing, or are you just trying to scare us?” he continued, in a slightly sharper tone.
OC was a civilian, sentimental and naïve, but Zero was a soldier. Dalton knew just how to handle him.
“You know, Ralph told me the story once, about how you got your name. Said you were mouthing off to Max.”
Dalton kept his voice light and pleasant, like they were just taking a walk, like he wasn’t holding anyone at gunpoint.
“You’d think, after a year out there in the world, you’d have learned your lesson. About mouthing off, that is.”
“Don’t let ‘em rev you up; they get you upset, get you angry? Then you get sloppy, and they’ve got a window to make their move. You want them intimidated.”
“So, you really want to know where I’m taking you?” Dalton asked, punctuating his question with a poke to Zero’s back with the muzzle of his gun.
Zero and Original Cindy both stayed their reactions, but Dax nodded fervently.
“I want to know. Are you going to kill us? What’s this about?” he asked.
Dalton cocked his head and tried to look calculating. Dax was his friend, closer to him than both OC and Zero, and Dalton had a harder time projecting the same confidence and menace on him. He needed to maintain control here; it was just a question of how.
“You gotta keep the upper hand. Don’t offer up too much information, or answer too many questions. Keep it simple; give directions and threaten them when necessary, no more or less.”
“We don’t want to kill anyone,” he found himself saying, “but we will, if we have to.”
“You mean you and Alec, right? You are working with Alec?” Dax asked.
Dalton shrugged, tried for nonchalance.
“I…that’s not important.”
“It is,” Zero said carefully, like Dalton was some wild animal that needed subdued. “This isn’t you. You don’t hurt people like this, and if Alec is making you do this…”
Dalton swung his gun in Zero’s direction, but that didn’t stop the flow of words.
“…then Alec isn’t acting like himself, either. Maybe you both need some help, before this gets anymore out of hand.”
“They know you, and they’ll try to use it against you. Don’t let them. Stay focused; this isn’t personal, and no one needs to get hurt. Well, no one but Lydecker. Once he’s gone, this is over. They’re soldiers, they’ll understand.”
“You don’t understand. Not yet, anyway.”
Dalton led the group down a short hallway just off the main corridor, to a small room with a large metal door. He ushered them inside.
“But you will. I promise, you will,” Dalton said with conviction. He took one last look at the three of them, and then eased the door shut and locked it from the outside.
-------------------------------------------
There was no time.
Alec’s little explosion had been a clever move, a painless yet powerful opening gambit. It gave him control and left them with few choices, but to comply with his demands. No more waiting it out, no more attempts to draw 494 out of Alec, like pulling poison from a wound. Alec had closed off all their options, and left them no time to create new ones.
Mole liked options.
“We need to find him.”
Mole rolled his eyes. Since Lydecker had thrown out his worse case scenario- 494 is more than capable of taking out all of Terminal City- discussions of their next move had ground to a halt. Much as he appreciated this attempt to get them back on track, Mole’d been hoping for a bit more from Max, than simply restating the obvious. Still, he took in the look on her stubborn face, brimming with conviction, and decided to help things along.
“Any idea where we should start?” he asked, looking from Max to Lydecker, and back again.
Max shook her head.
“If it was Alec, maybe, but we’re not dealing with Alec here, not really.”
Without a cigar to gnaw on, Mole bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping. He instantly regretted it when he bit too hard, and a warm rush of blood invaded his mouth. He muttered a curse, and spat into a nearby bin.
“So, 494. Come on, Colonel, what would 494 be up to? Where would he go?”
“He called the first explosion a warning. He’s giving us time to think through his proposal.”
Mole snorted.
“Yeah, the one that ends with us handing you over to him for certain death. Where are you going with this?”
Lydecker narrowed his eyes briefly in Mole’s direction, yet otherwise ignored the interruption and barreled ahead.
“He would use this time wisely. He’s not sitting on his hands, waiting for us to make a decision. 494 is a soldier, and that little firecracker was the least of his plans.”
-------------------------------------------
They were almost to the front gates of Terminal City when the explosions started. It’d been a long time since Luke had been that close to active munitions detonating, and he’d forgotten how loud and startling they could be.
“We need to go back,” Doctor Shankar said, already turning on her heel. Luke reached for her elbow and spun her back around.
“There could be injured people back there, and we need to go back. I can help,” she said, shaking her arm out of Luke’s grasp.
“You go back, you could be one of them.”
Luke raised a hand, when it seemed like the doctor would try and speak over him.
“Maybe you can help, but if something happens to an ordinary behind Terminal City’s walls, smack in the middle of negotiations…” he trailed off, hoping she would get his point.
He was beyond relieved when she nodded sullenly, and motioned for them to continue walking towards the gates.
“I still want to help,” she said, “I wish there was more I could do.”
Luke smiled grimly.
“Just don’t die.”
Another explosion punctuated his statement, so close this time that the doctor threw her arms up and over her head, presumably to protect herself from debris. The transgenics, Luke included, knew better. The blasts were centered on Command, in the opposite direction of where they were headed. They were safe, relatively speaking.
Luke turned to offer Doctor Shankar this small bit of reassurance, and found her staring straight ahead, squinting. Alec was walking straight for them, his gun raised to hip level and aimed ahead, shifting targets to rest on each of them in turn.
“Alec!” Doctor Shankar called out, though he was now less than two meters away.
“Not quite Doc, though I have to admit, he’s growing on me,” Alec replied.
If a smile of any size accompanied that statement, it was lost on Luke. He was too busy watching Alec’s gun, trying to predict the trajectory a bullet would take, should Alec choose to shoot.
The silence stretched out for a few moments, interrupted only by the sound of fire coming from Command. Alec broke it.
“How’s your head?”
“It’s fine. You’re bleeding,” Doctor Shankar said in response.
Luke dragged his eyes up from Alec’s weapon to take in the transgenic’s appearance, fully visible despite the storm darkened skies. He looked terrible. His wrists were visibly reddened and lacerated from the restraints he’d escaped in his sickroom, and a large bruise crept down from the top of his head, a souvenir from where Joshua had knocked him unconscious that morning. Blood caked the other side of his face, from the cut Alec had received across his cheek, also that morning, and another, newer wound that was still oozing.
“Yeah, the kid shot me. Dalton. It’s just a graze.”
“Where is he? Where’s Dalton now?” Luke asked, ignoring Alec’s casual tone. He moved forward, into Alec’s space.
“He’s fine,” Alec replied, side stepping the question, “busy.”
Another explosion went off, and Luke noticed the transgenics behind him involuntarily clutching their weapons at the sound. Alec noticed, too.
“You, Luke? I need you to do something for me,” he said, one eye on Luke, the other on the transgenic guards.
“What?”
Alec pointed to Doctor Shankar.
“You were taking her out of Terminal City, right? She needs to go now, the sooner the better.”
“Why? What are you planning?” Luke asked.
Doctor Shankar had edged closer to hear their conversation, and was watching Alec just as intently as Luke was. Alec’s gaze bounced between them, before settling on Luke.
“Planning part’s over, we’ve moved on to the execution portion of our program. I think it’d be better for everyone if the doctor here were far away from Terminal City.”
“So you’re just…letting us go? Why?” Luke asked.
“I’m letting her go. As for why, well, the gate’s right here, it’s not even out of my way. You said it yourself, something happens to a human behind the city gates and it’s trouble for all of us. Would you feel better if I ordered you at gunpoint?”
Alec lifted his gun. Luke was close enough to him now that, with Alec’s arm fully extended, the muzzle touched his chest.
Luke stepped back and Alec nodded in approval, and then turned to Doctor Shankar.
“Go ahead, Doc.”
The doctor walked to the main gate alone without argument. She glanced back just once, gave Alec an appraising look and Luke an encouraging one, and slipped out of Terminal City.
“Now what?” Luke asked, more out of curiosity, than fear.
Alec looked away from the gate and back toward his remaining hostages, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He schooled his expression quickly, though not enough to dim the lightness and warmth growing in his eyes. He was starting to look and act more like Alec again. His tone of voice, cocky and flippant, with a hint of authority, only underscored the fact.
“Now, Luke, we have a little something I like to call ‘Plan B’.”
Alec lowered his gun and slowly stepped forward. Of course the transgenic guards, so quiet up to this point, chose this moment to draw their weapons.
They were both young X6s, scared and inexperienced. Alec seemed to understand; he kept his gun lowered and raised his free hand to eye level. Then the next explosion went off, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder. One of them must have panicked. Luke hoped it was panic, or even fear that triggered what happened next.
Because that’s when the shooting started.
-------------------------------------------
“Did you hear that?”
The sound of gunfire’s unmistakable to any transgenic, one of the consequences of growing up on a military compound. Mole wanted to believe that his hearing was playing tricks on him. With all that was happening in Command, gunfire was the last thing any of them needed. As long as there were damages to report, a threat to assess, and plans to enact, he was perfectly happy to ignore the prickling feeling along with spine.
Apparently, Dix had missed that memo. He asked again, prodding at Mole’s side for emphasis.
“Another explosion?” Mole asked, hopeful. He could be wrong. He hoped he was.
“No. No, that was gunfire.” Dix replied.
Lydecker appeared beside him like a damn boogeyman, Max and the two ordinaries along with him.
“Point of origin?” he asked.
Mole curled his lip, annoyed at being ordered around, but tried to concentrate anyway, and watched as Max and Dix did the same, workng to ferret out a direction for the shooting under the explosions and thunder. Max caught on first.
“The front gates,” she said.
There was no mistaking her certainty, and Mole didn’t bother straining his ears to try and confirm what she’d heard. He pulled out his walkie- screw radio silence- and set it for the open frequency Luke had agreed to use in case of an emergency. For several long moments there was nothing but static. Then fragments of a voice stuttered out over the bad connection. It was Luke.
“Command…Luke…I need back up…front gate…Alec…”
“Luke, this is Command, you copy? Luke? This is Mole, do you copy?”
More silence and static followed, peppered with erratic bursts of gunfire, much closer and clearer than what they could hear from Command. Mole listened closely for a reply, and then repeated his order again. The gunfire picked up and a few raised, yet indistinct voices called out. Mole asked again.
“Do you copy?”
“I copy.”
The voice that responded wasn’t Luke, but it didn’t sound much like 494, either.
“Alec?”
The background was eerily quiet now, the shooting stopped. Mole tried to ignore what that might mean, tried to concentrate on Alec.
“Is he there?” Alec asked. He sounded winded, tired.
Mole didn’t bother playing dumb. He knew just whom Alec was asking about.
“Yes.”
“Remember, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want…I had no choice.” Alec said. He started to wheeze, the more he spoke; damn kid probably had a punctured lung, maybe a hole from a bullet, punched through his chest.
“Alec? Alec!”
Mole raised his voice to gather the boy’s attention, only hoped he could calm him down and get him focused.
“Let me talk to Luke, Alec. I need to know how many are injured, so we can get you help.”
Alec laughed.
“Well, I’m shot. That’s two for today.”
The wheezing was growing worse.
“Alec! Where’s Luke?” Mole asked.
Alec coughed wetly into the walkie. Mole started to feel desperate and anxious, though he couldn’t say why. He asked about Luke again.
“The medic anomaly? He’s dead. They’re all dead.”
Max caught the walkie just as it came tumbling from his hands. Mole watched her speak into it, shock and confusion clouding his mind.
“Alec, what happened? You have to tell us what happened.”
Alec coughed again, pain evident in the sound. Mole’s momentary bewilderment lifted, replaced by a burning anger. He briefly, viciously reveled in the noise of Alec’s pain, because if it were true, if they were dead, there would be so much more pain left for him, so much pain Mole ached to dole out.
Then Alec began talking again and the moment was over, though the anger stayed close to the surface.
“I told you this would happen. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I told you I would.”
“Alec.” Max whispered the boy’s name. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, the shock creeping in. Alec’s uneasy breath rattled over the radio, but his voice when he spoke was remarkably clear.
“No more stalling. No more.”
Next
Author: miashay
Characters: Season 2 Dark Angel cast
Ratings/Warnings: R overall for violent imagery and sensitive topics
Word Count: 2841
Summary: Dalton and Alec instigate Plan B, shit blows up, and things go from bad to worse.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
Excessive Ordnance
They were not a part of the plan.
Plan A, that is, the first plan, the best plan. Plan A meant doing his job neatly and quietly, and going undetected. Plan A meant perfection, no deviations, no screw-ups, and absolutely no hostages. Hostages were not a part of the plan.
Luckily, Alec had been doing this a lot longer than Dalton, whose very genetics, combined with his years at Manticore, made him far better at following orders than thinking on his feet. Alec had expected that. Pale and focused, with smatterings of blood from Dalton’s bullet still smeared across his face, he had calmly explained exactly what Dalton needed to do, should Plan A fail.
“Always have a contingency plan, kid. Nothing’s foolproof- your back ups should have back ups.”
The back up for Plan A (Plan B, as it so happened) allowed for hostages. Plan B meant zip-ties in his pockets and a secured room ready for use; close by, yet safe outside the various blast radii of the explosives they were planting. Plan B meant acting the soldier, disciplined and distant, unflinching and full of conviction, with no room to be swayed.
It was a role Dalton had been trained for, a role he was accustomed to. It allowed him to shed all the uncertainty and anxiety he’d been feeling since being shot, and to find comfort in the routine.
So, when Original Cindy, Zero and Dax stumbled across him setting explosives in the hall leading to Command, Dalton knew just what to do.
------------------------------------------
“Where you takin’ us, Dalton?” Original Cindy asked.
She sounded nervous and maybe a little confused, but not frightened. He needed her frightened. It was unfortunate, yet necessary. He’d already pointed a gun at OC’s head and made her restrain herself, he wasn’t sure what else he could do that would make her take him seriously, make her stop asking questions.
“They have to believe you’ll go through with whatever you threaten, or there’s no reason for them to cooperate. Idle threats won’t cut it.”
Dalton had set down this path and he needed to see it through. If he could shoot Alec and plant explosives around Terminal City, he could threaten OC, Dax and Zero. He was capable and in control, a soldier with a purpose. He could do this.
“Where are you taking us?”
It was Zero asking this time; voice calm and serious.
“Do you even know what you’re doing, or are you just trying to scare us?” he continued, in a slightly sharper tone.
OC was a civilian, sentimental and naïve, but Zero was a soldier. Dalton knew just how to handle him.
“You know, Ralph told me the story once, about how you got your name. Said you were mouthing off to Max.”
Dalton kept his voice light and pleasant, like they were just taking a walk, like he wasn’t holding anyone at gunpoint.
“You’d think, after a year out there in the world, you’d have learned your lesson. About mouthing off, that is.”
“Don’t let ‘em rev you up; they get you upset, get you angry? Then you get sloppy, and they’ve got a window to make their move. You want them intimidated.”
“So, you really want to know where I’m taking you?” Dalton asked, punctuating his question with a poke to Zero’s back with the muzzle of his gun.
Zero and Original Cindy both stayed their reactions, but Dax nodded fervently.
“I want to know. Are you going to kill us? What’s this about?” he asked.
Dalton cocked his head and tried to look calculating. Dax was his friend, closer to him than both OC and Zero, and Dalton had a harder time projecting the same confidence and menace on him. He needed to maintain control here; it was just a question of how.
“You gotta keep the upper hand. Don’t offer up too much information, or answer too many questions. Keep it simple; give directions and threaten them when necessary, no more or less.”
“We don’t want to kill anyone,” he found himself saying, “but we will, if we have to.”
“You mean you and Alec, right? You are working with Alec?” Dax asked.
Dalton shrugged, tried for nonchalance.
“I…that’s not important.”
“It is,” Zero said carefully, like Dalton was some wild animal that needed subdued. “This isn’t you. You don’t hurt people like this, and if Alec is making you do this…”
Dalton swung his gun in Zero’s direction, but that didn’t stop the flow of words.
“…then Alec isn’t acting like himself, either. Maybe you both need some help, before this gets anymore out of hand.”
“They know you, and they’ll try to use it against you. Don’t let them. Stay focused; this isn’t personal, and no one needs to get hurt. Well, no one but Lydecker. Once he’s gone, this is over. They’re soldiers, they’ll understand.”
“You don’t understand. Not yet, anyway.”
Dalton led the group down a short hallway just off the main corridor, to a small room with a large metal door. He ushered them inside.
“But you will. I promise, you will,” Dalton said with conviction. He took one last look at the three of them, and then eased the door shut and locked it from the outside.
-------------------------------------------
There was no time.
Alec’s little explosion had been a clever move, a painless yet powerful opening gambit. It gave him control and left them with few choices, but to comply with his demands. No more waiting it out, no more attempts to draw 494 out of Alec, like pulling poison from a wound. Alec had closed off all their options, and left them no time to create new ones.
Mole liked options.
“We need to find him.”
Mole rolled his eyes. Since Lydecker had thrown out his worse case scenario- 494 is more than capable of taking out all of Terminal City- discussions of their next move had ground to a halt. Much as he appreciated this attempt to get them back on track, Mole’d been hoping for a bit more from Max, than simply restating the obvious. Still, he took in the look on her stubborn face, brimming with conviction, and decided to help things along.
“Any idea where we should start?” he asked, looking from Max to Lydecker, and back again.
Max shook her head.
“If it was Alec, maybe, but we’re not dealing with Alec here, not really.”
Without a cigar to gnaw on, Mole bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping. He instantly regretted it when he bit too hard, and a warm rush of blood invaded his mouth. He muttered a curse, and spat into a nearby bin.
“So, 494. Come on, Colonel, what would 494 be up to? Where would he go?”
“He called the first explosion a warning. He’s giving us time to think through his proposal.”
Mole snorted.
“Yeah, the one that ends with us handing you over to him for certain death. Where are you going with this?”
Lydecker narrowed his eyes briefly in Mole’s direction, yet otherwise ignored the interruption and barreled ahead.
“He would use this time wisely. He’s not sitting on his hands, waiting for us to make a decision. 494 is a soldier, and that little firecracker was the least of his plans.”
-------------------------------------------
They were almost to the front gates of Terminal City when the explosions started. It’d been a long time since Luke had been that close to active munitions detonating, and he’d forgotten how loud and startling they could be.
“We need to go back,” Doctor Shankar said, already turning on her heel. Luke reached for her elbow and spun her back around.
“There could be injured people back there, and we need to go back. I can help,” she said, shaking her arm out of Luke’s grasp.
“You go back, you could be one of them.”
Luke raised a hand, when it seemed like the doctor would try and speak over him.
“Maybe you can help, but if something happens to an ordinary behind Terminal City’s walls, smack in the middle of negotiations…” he trailed off, hoping she would get his point.
He was beyond relieved when she nodded sullenly, and motioned for them to continue walking towards the gates.
“I still want to help,” she said, “I wish there was more I could do.”
Luke smiled grimly.
“Just don’t die.”
Another explosion punctuated his statement, so close this time that the doctor threw her arms up and over her head, presumably to protect herself from debris. The transgenics, Luke included, knew better. The blasts were centered on Command, in the opposite direction of where they were headed. They were safe, relatively speaking.
Luke turned to offer Doctor Shankar this small bit of reassurance, and found her staring straight ahead, squinting. Alec was walking straight for them, his gun raised to hip level and aimed ahead, shifting targets to rest on each of them in turn.
“Alec!” Doctor Shankar called out, though he was now less than two meters away.
“Not quite Doc, though I have to admit, he’s growing on me,” Alec replied.
If a smile of any size accompanied that statement, it was lost on Luke. He was too busy watching Alec’s gun, trying to predict the trajectory a bullet would take, should Alec choose to shoot.
The silence stretched out for a few moments, interrupted only by the sound of fire coming from Command. Alec broke it.
“How’s your head?”
“It’s fine. You’re bleeding,” Doctor Shankar said in response.
Luke dragged his eyes up from Alec’s weapon to take in the transgenic’s appearance, fully visible despite the storm darkened skies. He looked terrible. His wrists were visibly reddened and lacerated from the restraints he’d escaped in his sickroom, and a large bruise crept down from the top of his head, a souvenir from where Joshua had knocked him unconscious that morning. Blood caked the other side of his face, from the cut Alec had received across his cheek, also that morning, and another, newer wound that was still oozing.
“Yeah, the kid shot me. Dalton. It’s just a graze.”
“Where is he? Where’s Dalton now?” Luke asked, ignoring Alec’s casual tone. He moved forward, into Alec’s space.
“He’s fine,” Alec replied, side stepping the question, “busy.”
Another explosion went off, and Luke noticed the transgenics behind him involuntarily clutching their weapons at the sound. Alec noticed, too.
“You, Luke? I need you to do something for me,” he said, one eye on Luke, the other on the transgenic guards.
“What?”
Alec pointed to Doctor Shankar.
“You were taking her out of Terminal City, right? She needs to go now, the sooner the better.”
“Why? What are you planning?” Luke asked.
Doctor Shankar had edged closer to hear their conversation, and was watching Alec just as intently as Luke was. Alec’s gaze bounced between them, before settling on Luke.
“Planning part’s over, we’ve moved on to the execution portion of our program. I think it’d be better for everyone if the doctor here were far away from Terminal City.”
“So you’re just…letting us go? Why?” Luke asked.
“I’m letting her go. As for why, well, the gate’s right here, it’s not even out of my way. You said it yourself, something happens to a human behind the city gates and it’s trouble for all of us. Would you feel better if I ordered you at gunpoint?”
Alec lifted his gun. Luke was close enough to him now that, with Alec’s arm fully extended, the muzzle touched his chest.
Luke stepped back and Alec nodded in approval, and then turned to Doctor Shankar.
“Go ahead, Doc.”
The doctor walked to the main gate alone without argument. She glanced back just once, gave Alec an appraising look and Luke an encouraging one, and slipped out of Terminal City.
“Now what?” Luke asked, more out of curiosity, than fear.
Alec looked away from the gate and back toward his remaining hostages, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He schooled his expression quickly, though not enough to dim the lightness and warmth growing in his eyes. He was starting to look and act more like Alec again. His tone of voice, cocky and flippant, with a hint of authority, only underscored the fact.
“Now, Luke, we have a little something I like to call ‘Plan B’.”
Alec lowered his gun and slowly stepped forward. Of course the transgenic guards, so quiet up to this point, chose this moment to draw their weapons.
They were both young X6s, scared and inexperienced. Alec seemed to understand; he kept his gun lowered and raised his free hand to eye level. Then the next explosion went off, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder. One of them must have panicked. Luke hoped it was panic, or even fear that triggered what happened next.
Because that’s when the shooting started.
-------------------------------------------
“Did you hear that?”
The sound of gunfire’s unmistakable to any transgenic, one of the consequences of growing up on a military compound. Mole wanted to believe that his hearing was playing tricks on him. With all that was happening in Command, gunfire was the last thing any of them needed. As long as there were damages to report, a threat to assess, and plans to enact, he was perfectly happy to ignore the prickling feeling along with spine.
Apparently, Dix had missed that memo. He asked again, prodding at Mole’s side for emphasis.
“Another explosion?” Mole asked, hopeful. He could be wrong. He hoped he was.
“No. No, that was gunfire.” Dix replied.
Lydecker appeared beside him like a damn boogeyman, Max and the two ordinaries along with him.
“Point of origin?” he asked.
Mole curled his lip, annoyed at being ordered around, but tried to concentrate anyway, and watched as Max and Dix did the same, workng to ferret out a direction for the shooting under the explosions and thunder. Max caught on first.
“The front gates,” she said.
There was no mistaking her certainty, and Mole didn’t bother straining his ears to try and confirm what she’d heard. He pulled out his walkie- screw radio silence- and set it for the open frequency Luke had agreed to use in case of an emergency. For several long moments there was nothing but static. Then fragments of a voice stuttered out over the bad connection. It was Luke.
“Command…Luke…I need back up…front gate…Alec…”
“Luke, this is Command, you copy? Luke? This is Mole, do you copy?”
More silence and static followed, peppered with erratic bursts of gunfire, much closer and clearer than what they could hear from Command. Mole listened closely for a reply, and then repeated his order again. The gunfire picked up and a few raised, yet indistinct voices called out. Mole asked again.
“Do you copy?”
“I copy.”
The voice that responded wasn’t Luke, but it didn’t sound much like 494, either.
“Alec?”
The background was eerily quiet now, the shooting stopped. Mole tried to ignore what that might mean, tried to concentrate on Alec.
“Is he there?” Alec asked. He sounded winded, tired.
Mole didn’t bother playing dumb. He knew just whom Alec was asking about.
“Yes.”
“Remember, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want…I had no choice.” Alec said. He started to wheeze, the more he spoke; damn kid probably had a punctured lung, maybe a hole from a bullet, punched through his chest.
“Alec? Alec!”
Mole raised his voice to gather the boy’s attention, only hoped he could calm him down and get him focused.
“Let me talk to Luke, Alec. I need to know how many are injured, so we can get you help.”
Alec laughed.
“Well, I’m shot. That’s two for today.”
The wheezing was growing worse.
“Alec! Where’s Luke?” Mole asked.
Alec coughed wetly into the walkie. Mole started to feel desperate and anxious, though he couldn’t say why. He asked about Luke again.
“The medic anomaly? He’s dead. They’re all dead.”
Max caught the walkie just as it came tumbling from his hands. Mole watched her speak into it, shock and confusion clouding his mind.
“Alec, what happened? You have to tell us what happened.”
Alec coughed again, pain evident in the sound. Mole’s momentary bewilderment lifted, replaced by a burning anger. He briefly, viciously reveled in the noise of Alec’s pain, because if it were true, if they were dead, there would be so much more pain left for him, so much pain Mole ached to dole out.
Then Alec began talking again and the moment was over, though the anger stayed close to the surface.
“I told you this would happen. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I told you I would.”
“Alec.” Max whispered the boy’s name. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, the shock creeping in. Alec’s uneasy breath rattled over the radio, but his voice when he spoke was remarkably clear.
“No more stalling. No more.”
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