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Chapter 23
New Rules

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles World

"O.C.'s really glad to be back in Seattle," Max said. She was standing in the middle of their quarters, a room in one of the buildings erected at the New Manticore compound, a structure that had now been assigned to the transgenics. Three sparse cots, sink, toilet, desk, chair ... the only thing that saved the place from being a true cell was the baby's crib in the corner and the unlocked door. Nyx was still in the neonatal intensive care unit at Seattle's County General Hospital, but she'd be coming home here soon and Lydecker had already made good on his promise to provide for her.

"Yeah, she said old Normal welcomed her back to her job at Jam Pony with open arms," Alec said, his voice wistful. "I guess two years of playin' nanny was enough for her."

"Do you suppose Lydecker would let us use Jam Pony as a cover?" Max said. "It would be nice working with the old gang again, and we wouldn't be far away for when he needed us for missions. Normal would understand too."

"'Deck has bigger and better plans for you and me than us bein' bike messengers, Max."

Max was looking at him oddly. "You're not as upset about this as you thought you'd be, are you? In a way, it must be like coming home to you, after all your years here at Manticore?"

Alec shrugged. "I'm not ecstatic 'bout bein' a soldier again, if that's what you mean. And I hate it that you're here too -- and Brac and Nyx."

"At least we're together and alive," Max said, wrapping her arms around his waist, and resting her head against his broad back. "And relatively safe from the Familiars who still want us dead in the worst way."

"Yeah," Alec sighed. "There's that."

"You did the best you could," Max said. "It wasn't your fault that Mole and the others decided to mutiny. I do miss Joshua, though."

"I miss the Big Fella, too," Alec said. "But I understand why he stayed with his own kind." Alec glanced over at Brac who was napping on one of the cots then looked to the unlocked room door. "I have to meet with Lydecker in a few minutes. Dalton beat up three of his men this morning in the mess hall. This co-mingling/live-and-let-live plan of our beloved handler's gettin' off to a rocky start. His soldiers are scared shitless of us, not to mention they resent us bein' here."

"Do you think Dalton's in trouble?"

Alec grinned. "Hell no. Lydecker's proud as punch of the kid. A fifteen-year-old knockin' three of his elite squad on their asses goes a long way toward showin' these yahoos just what we can do."

"Alec, I imagine your cage fight with Thula showed them that already already."

"Not really," Alec said. "That just made 'em afraid of us." His eyes twinkled. "Very, very afraid."

*****

"Max always did say you were a piece of work," Alec commented mildly as he crouched beside Donald Lydecker on the roof of a downtown Seattle office tower. Lydecker, using binoculars, was peering at the window of a building across the alley. Alec, too, was watching what was going on behind that pane, bringing things into close focus with his cat eyes. "Guess this just proves it. Spyin' on the enemy in broad daylight is a bit blatant, dontcha think?"

"I wanted you to see something."

Alec squinted against the glare of the evening sun as it sank behind the high rise opposite them. "See what?"

"There." Lydecker pointed. "The white-haired man who just came into the room."

"So," Alec said. (He was bored.) "What's so special about grandpa?"

"He's the new bad guy in your life," Lydecker replied. "The recently appointed chief of the Familiars, put into place by McKinley himself. Name's Derrick Cullen, and word is he's a purist of the worst kind. His number one priority now that the plague has brought the world to its knees is to make certain Sandeman's creations don't lead a revolt, or worse, pollute their precious purebred gene pool."

Lydecker turned to him. "You're about fifty feet away from death right now, 494. If Cullen and his men got their hands on you, saw that barcode on your neck or if their thermal scans lit up, you'd be slaughtered like an animal ... throat slit most likely. That seems to be his favorite method of dispensing death to what he considers subhuman breeding stock -- a trademark almost."

Alec couldn't help it. He touched his throat, the thought of what it would feel like to have it "slit" not exactly what he wanted to be thinking about, but the image planted in his mind anyway. "He's killed my kind before?"

Lydecker's chuckle wasn't evil, but it wasn't humorous either. "Many. You and your fellow Chimereans were lucky these past few years, being able to hide out on your island in relative isolation. Don't forget there were dozens of transgenics who never came into Terminal City, never accepted the military's amnesty under my protection, never left with you to live in peace. They've been hunted mercilessly these past three years, first by White, then McKinley, and now the job's been turned over to Cullen."

"And so you brought me and mine right back into the middle of things," Alec said, not trying to conceal the bitterness in his voice. "Ground zero for Transie killing. How can I ever thank you. Would a fruit basket be appropriate?"

"I brought you here so you could take out the enemy first," Lydecker said, ignoring the sarcasm. "Think, soldier. Remember what Sandoval taught you. He might have been a filthy little traitor, but he learned everything he knew from me. Hopefully, he passed it on to you."

"Sandoval was a tool," Alec said, using the word in its pornographic sense. His eyes slid sideways to Lydecker. "But he had some good soldiers workin' for him, good teachers. Yeah, I see where you're comin' from on this. I guess you needed some X5 talent to accomplish this mission. That's why you haven't moved on this Cullen before?"

"He's very well protected," Lydecker conceded. "And my men, as good as they are, are no match for Purebreds. How's your injury, by the way?"

"Almost healed," Alec said, suddenly suspicious. "Why? This is just recon, right? You said it was just a look-see."

The older man didn't answer.

"Lydecker?"

"It's a one man job. In. A quick clean kill. Then out. They'll never be expecting such a bold move, not in broad daylight, in the middle of the business day." He looked hard at Alec. "Can you jump that?" He pointed to the roof of the Familiar's office building across the alley.

"From here?" The words came out a bit higher pitched than he meant them to. Alec cleared his throat and tried again. "From here? You've got to be kidding."

"Can you?"

Alec judged the distance -- sixty feet max -- iffy. But with a running start and a tail wind ...

"Yeah."

"There's a ventilation fan up top. Stop the blades, go down the shaft two floors, and you're in a utility room. Cullin's office is three doors down the hall to your left. He's got four bodyguards, all heavily armed." Lydecker reached into his inner coat pocket and produced one of Alec's favorite toys -- a Glock pistol, which he weighed in his hand. "Shoot him, break his neck, crush his skull," Lydecker said, not shy about spelling out what he expected of his X5. "Hell, I don't care if you use autoerotic asphyxiation on the bastard, but kill him -- kill him and you and your family can sleep a whole lot better tonight."

"Exit strategy?" Alec asked, although he wasn't at all certain he was going to do this. However, he knew he ought to have the whole picture before telling Lydecker where to shove it. And surely the colonel didn't mean this to be a suicide mission, did he? "I'd like to see floor plans," he added.

"None available," Lydecker said grimly."Believe me our intelligence division has tried to acquire them."

Alec looked down over the edge of the building. "We're fifteen stories up," he said. "I don't have wings. How am I supposed to get out?

Lydecker pulled a ball of nylon cord from another jacket pocket. Alec wondered if the colonel was a closet "MacGyver" fan. Either that or a former Boy Scout as in "be prepared."

"Use this to go down the vent shaft, and also to get back up. I'll give you cover fire from here when you get back to the roof."

Lydecker held out the cord, but Alec kept his hands to his sides. "Four bodyguards?" he said. "I suppose I should be flattered, but there's no way I can take out four of their Purebreds all by myself. Two maybe, and that's a really big 'maybe.' But four? You're dreamin'. And I really do intend to see Max and my kids again."

"You have your orders, soldier," Lydecker said in a level voice.

"No." Alec paused just long enough before adding the requisite "sir."

The older man's face went livid. "Damn it, solder! Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this opportunity? How long I've waited to have one of my kids in a position to take out that Familiar bastard? How long I've waited for you? You're a dying breed, 494. You and all your fellow X series. If you want to survive as a race, you'll do what I say."

"No. I'm not prepared for this mission and the odds suck."

"You've been given an order, soldier."

"One I'm disobeyin'."

Lydecker pointed the gun at Alec's chest.

"You've got to be kidding?" Alec said, smiling wryly and shaking his head in disbelief. "After all you and me have been through 'Deck, it's come down to this? You're not gonna shoot me and you know it."

"If you won't obey me, I have no use for you," Lydecker said levelly. "And I'm sure as hell not going to keep you around for sentimental reasons. Now get your transgenic ass over to that roof and do your job!"

"Or what?" Alec said, watching the pistol warily but still not buying Lydecker's threat.

"Or I pull this trigger, and Max is going to be raising those kids alone."

Alec sighed heavily and dusted his hands off on the seat of his blue jeans. Then he raised his head and, utterly unafraid, locked eyes with his commander. "Do it then," he said quietly. "Because I'd rather be dead than your slave." And with that, X5-494 turned his back on Colonel Donald Lydecker and walked away.