DISCLAIMER: All "Dark Angel" characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and "Dark Angel" itself belongs to FOX.

ARCHIVE: No

The Best Laid Plans 3: Storm
By Valjean

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Chapter 1
Explosive Times
Alec Closeup

Photo courtesy of Senga

"What am I looking at?" Alec asked with a yawn, drawing his black leather jacket closer and peering through still sleepy eyes out over the water. Crawling out of the warmth of Max's arms was always difficult, but even moreso at five a.m. on a chilly New Zealand winter morning.

"There," Mole said impatiently, a scaly hand on top of his head turning Alec forcibly to face north. "At three o'clock in the incoming surf."

Alec blinked and used his cat eyes to try and focus on the area the lizard-like transhuman was indicating.

"If I can see it, you should be able to too," Mole said with exasperation, chomping down harder on the cigar butt dangling from his mouth. "There!" He pointed.

"You see it now?" Luke chimed in.

Alec's expression changed, all remnants of sleepiness vanishing. "A boat," he said. "Black, fast, stealth." He turned to Mole. "How the hell did you guys spot it?"

Luke held up a pair of night vision binoculars, his elfin grey features screwed into a big smile. "Hey," he said proudly. "I take my turn at guard duty seriously. And now aren't we all glad Max decided to make it standing orders we post sentries on the four corners of the island twenty-four seven? I backed her on that you know."

"Max may be just a female, and a pregnant one at that," Mole said gruffly, "but sometimes she does have good ideas."

"That's my Maxie," Alec agreed softly, still focusing on the incoming craft.

Mole poked him in the arm. "Hey, when she gave the orders you said she was paranoid. Right in front of the rest of the troops too."

Alec shrugged. "Well, she was right. And I'm a big enough man to admit it. You learn to do that pretty quick when you're in Max's life, if you know what I mean."

"At least if you want to stay in her good graces, not to mention her bed," Mole added with a lascivious snicker.

Alec shot him a look, then turned back to the ocean.

Luke held up his walkie-talkie. "You want me to sound the alarm?"

"No," Alec said carefully, thinking as he formed the words. "There are only two of 'em. I think we can handle it without gettin' the rest of the island in an uproar."

"You suppose it's spies from the mainland?" Mole asked. "Or maybe Lydecker's people again?"

"'Deck can come in the front door," Alec said. "He knows it too. But that boat's military issue. I'm bettin' our Familiar friends are payin' us a visit, probably a special ops team sent to snoop around, find out just what Father's former army is up to. They've got to be wonderin', what with the rest of the world in such a panic and all. And we've been real quiet the past couple of months."

"Not so much as an away mission," Luke said. "Even for you and Max. I never saw you guys hunker down for so long."

"Just keepin' our heads low while the bullets fly," Alec said as his eyes tracked the sleek powerboat incoming on Chimera's north beach. "We're pretty self sufficient now anyway. We don't exactly need to be knockin' on other folks' doors for handouts."

"Except to get tryptophan," Mole said.

Alec glanced over at the big lizard man, detecting something in his voice that he didn't like.

"What?" Mole said at the look on his superior's face.

"It is your Achilles heel, Alec," Luke said, backing his fellow transhuman. "You and Max, your kid ...all the X series, but especially you X5's. I mean, there are only eighteen of you guys and how many bottles of the stuff do you go through in a week?"

"Too many," Alec admitted. "Even with Dr. Makari's fix that lets us absorb the tryptophan again, turn it into serotonin in our systems so we don't have seizures, we have to take a lot."

"The one little commodity we can't make on Chimera," Mole pointed out. "And the one big reason we can't just thumb our nose at the world -- or at least the one big reason you can't."

"You sayin' my kind are becomin' a liability?" Alec asked, deciding this conversation needed to get to the point, strange timing as it was.

"In a way, yes," Mole said firmly. "We talk about it you know, us transhumans and the lower X's. Weigh the worth of your X5 skills and brains against the risk you put all of us in 'cause of your damn addiction."

"It's not an addiction," Alec snapped, turning away from the ocean to round on the bigger man. "It's a medical condition, same as your skin lesions and Dix's eye trouble," referring to the thick monocle the island's computer expert had to wear in order to see.

"Yeah, but aloe gel doesn't come near as expensive as tryptophan," Mole shot right back. "And last time I checked Dix's eyes weren't costin' us fifty grand a month to maintain."

Alec flinched at that. The Chinese pharmaceutical company, the only tryptophan supplier left in the world, had jacked the price incredibly once they realized their transgenic buyers had no other source. But they really had no choice at this point except to pay them. Oh, they could have stolen the stuff, but what they couldn't do was manufacture it. Ticking off their only source would be suicidal. Not for the first time Alec wished they could somehow build a factory on Chimera to make their own tryptophan, but the procedure was incredibly complicated and required massive power -- something they were in short supply of, having to rely almost solely on solar and nitrogen fuel cells since the worldwide fuel shortage had taken hold. They had nowhere near enough juice to crank up a pharmaceutical plant, let alone the skilled personnel.

"Don't forget where that money came from in the first place," Alec said quietly, for the first time a hint of a threat in his voice. Mole had always been militant ... defiant ... questioning orders, questioning Max. But he was a strong fighter, a good soldier, and most of the time a friend. Usually he could be made to listen to common sense. Why he was picking this time to complain about what had been an ongoing problem for the entire two years of Chimera's existence Alec had no idea. But he didn't like it. The last thing Max needed was an internal rebellion, not in her condition.

No, Alec thought. This is my problem. And I'm gonna fix it, make him see reason. He opened his mouth--

"Guys!" Luke whispered harshly. "I think we've got other things to worry about right now." He nodded toward the beach where the stealth craft was landing.

Alec nodded and motioned with hand signals that he and Mole should head down the cliff face, and that Luke should stay on top to keep watch and call for backup if they needed it.

*****


Alec sank to his ankles in the fine white sand when he leaped off the last rock, the grains uncomfortably filling his shoes. Getting his footing, he motioned for Mole to circle to the other side of the small beach. There really were only two people in the boat, human males from the size of them, although with Familiars one could never be sure. Their Purebred females were behemoths as well -- a fact Alec had personally discovered on more than one occasion. These guys were in black commando gear and seemed intent on getting some kind of box out of the boat. Holding the container carefully above the sloshing waves of the incoming tide they carried it to the beach, set it down in the sand, and opened the lid. There were lights blinking in the interior, green ... one red. It looked like some kind of--

Alec's heart turned over in his chest and he drew his gun. But he was too late. The man leaning over the box had already punched some buttons and now more lights were turning red.

Looking across the beach, Alec saw Mole's head bob up from behind a rock as he sighted down the barrel of his rifle.

"No!" Alec screamed, jumping to his feet. "Don't shoot!"

"What the hell?" Mole muttered. His finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon. He had one of the soldiers dead in his sites. But old habits die hard, and Alec was his commanding officer, even though the X5 was acting like a raving lunatic at the moment. Reluctantly ... very reluctantly ... he stayed the shot.

Alec charged the man who'd just activated whatever was in the container. He was outweighed by at least a hundred pounds. The Familiar (Alec's feline senses could detect the scent of the Purebred now) turned around, his reflexes almost (but not quite) equal to a transgenics, his face a mask of raw hatred.

Barreling into his adversary, Alec knocked him away from the box, but didn't quite take him to the ground. Twisting in mid air, the X5 landed gracefully on his feet, but his boot slid in the sand as he let loose with a sidekick, diminishing the impact and allowing the Familiar to catch hold of his leg.

Shit, Alec thought as he landed on his ass. He'd been training nearly every day for the past two months just so he'd be ready for a moment like this -- a time when he'd once again have to face a Familiar in combat. In the past, he'd more than once gotten his butt kicked by the cult Purebreds, hadn't been physically ready. But his fighting skills were better now than they'd ever been in his life. He could do this. Couldn't he?

The second the words of doubt entered his head Alec knew he was in trouble. A great deal of winning at hand-to-hand was in the mind, perhaps even moreso than in the physical body. Deep down inside Alec had always been afraid of the cult's finest fighters, ever since that chick had almost bludgeoned him to death during the Jam Pony siege three years ago. Oh, he'd faced and even defeated his share of Familiars since then, but there was always that little seed of doubt in his mind about his abilities when it came down to one-on-one against them.

But he'd been training with Ryan for weeks now, one of Manticore's best X5 combat teachers, joining the classes they held for the X6's, taking private sessions afterwards, practicing until his muscles ached. So what if he wasn't one of the most massive X5's? He was still strong and fast and smart -- assassin quick, assassin savvy.

All of which apparently meant very little now as the Purebred's huge hands reached down to snap his neck.

But Alec wasn't there any more. Rolling over on the sand out of reach he arched his back and was once again on his feet in a fighting stance. His opponent grinned.

"Bring it on," Alec said softly. On the opposite side of the beach he could see Mole battling the other soldier, trying to wrest a rifle out of the Familiar's hands.

This time Alec's powerful side kick hit home, knocking the other man backwards. Instinctively he blurred, following up with a series of hard punches. However, the soldier was wearing body armor and the blows barely made him grunt. Familiars had incredibly high pain thresholds. Unfortunately, Alec didn't. The fist that found his ribcage made him cry out. This was bad. There wasn't time for this. Leaping back, X5-494 knew what he had to do.

He'd practiced dozens of times with Ryan, attempting to achieve what he'd never been able to do as a child at Manticore. Martial arts acrobatics had never been his strong suit. Oh, he'd always managed to pass his tests, but he was never at the top of his unit. There had always been other kids who could outfight him. He'd usually won battles with his peers on a more cerebral plain -- outthinking them, outsmarting them, charming them.

Breathing hard through his mouth, Alec wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and looked the Familiar straight in the eye. From the raging hatred gleaming there he somehow doubted he was going to be winning the guy over with witticisms. So instead he did his "Max move."

Taking one step forward for momentum, Alec found firm footing in the sand, leaped nearly three feet into the air off his right leg, twisted, and delivered a perfect crescent kick to the side of the soldier's head -- the one spot not protected by full body armor -- just like he'd practiced so many times with Ryan. Alec knew damn well what it felt like to have your bell rung like that. Afterall, it was a similar move the Familiar bitch had used that had taken him to the ground at Jam Pony so long ago -- very powerful, very effective.

He landed gracefully and turned, fists up, ready for more combat. But the soldier was just standing there staring at him. And then slowly he toppled to lie unmoving in the sand.

"'Bout time," Mole said, walking up behind Alec and dusting off his hands. He reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out a fresh cigar. On the other side of the beach the second Familiar lay with his head canted at an impossible angle. Alec turned his attention to the container with its red flashing lights. Sprinting across the short distance, he skidded to his knees beside the box.

"Need a flashlight?" Mole inquired idly as he lit the cigar.

"No," Alec said distractedly. "I can see in the dark just fine," his catsight more than sufficient with the quarter moon overhead. He was so hoping he was wrong about what this device was ... so hoping he could still-- "No!" Alec screamed out as he saw out of the corner of his eye what Mole was doing, his words simultaneous with the sound of a single gunshot.

"What?" Mole yelled back, the barrel of his rifle still smoking. He gestured at the Familiar Alec had knocked out, his brains now spattered across the sand. "I was just finishin' what you started."

"You idiot!" Alec shouted. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Everything all right guys?" Luke called down from the cliff top.

"Yeah," Mole yelled back, warily eying his inexplicably agitated CO. "We're fine."

"No," Alec said softly, to himself, his brows drawing together as he eyed the container with dismay. "No we're not all right."

"What?" Mole asked impatiently, coming to stand beside Alec and staring down at the blinking lights. "What is it anyway?"

Alec swallowed, his throat tight, his mouth dead dry. "It's a suitcase thermonuclear device," he said. His eyes went accusingly to Mole. "And you just killed the only person who could have deactivated it."

To be continued ...

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