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"You know, Max. We're supposed to get paid for doin' this stuff now."

"This is a favor for Logan and Clemente, Alec. We don't make friends pay."

"Yeah, well, tell Mole that when we don't have the money to keep him in cigars."

"Isn't the fact that slavers are kidnapping children, and selling them into prostitution overseas reason enough to do this job, Alec? Do you really need to be paid to do the right thing?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alec said, peeking over the top of a pallet of empty crates on the edge of the airfield. "I know. We're doin' the superhero routine, helpin' your pal Clemente out so the transgenics will get some good press for a change, which, I admit, won't be all that bad for business. Point taken." He turned to Max, a sly gleam in his eyes. "But I still say we need costumes."

Max looked at him with disgust.

"Aw come on, Maxie."

"Yeah, right, Alec. You'd look real good in tights."

"Actually, I probably would," he said without missing a beat. "Although, a black silk cape was more what I had in mind. And I'm picturin' one of those corset things for you. Baby blue silk and lace with a really low cut--"

"Shut up. The slavers are coming out of the hangar with the kids. Get ready. And don't screw this up."

"To the rescue," Alec said under his breath, foregoing the teasing as he moved with Max.

Two swarthy-looking muscle men were herding half a dozen scared teenage boys and girls out onto the tarmac toward a cargo plane that sat waiting with engines revved. Alec didn't bother blurring, but the big guy who was his target still never even saw the X5's fist until it hit his face. Monty Cora strikes again, Alec thought proudly as he cracked his knuckles and looked around for Max.

His partner's attack had been equally successful. The other guard lay unconscious at her feet, looking for all the world like a big bear she'd just bagged. He half expected to see Max put a dainty foot on the guy's chest and strike a triumphant pose.

"It's all right," Max said to the frightened youngsters, moving among them and cutting loose their tethered hands. "You're safe now."

Detective Ramon Clemente and his men were already closing in. They'd been watching from the edge of the landing strip, waiting for the X5's to take down the guards in a way that wouldn't put the teenagers in the line of gunfire.

"Great work, Max," Clemente said, approaching with a big grin on his usually taciturn face.

But Alec was eying the airplane. "I better check it out," he said to Max, hooking a thumb in that direction. "There could be more kids inside."

Max nodded, her hands full with the children and the police now. She might not be the most diplomatic spokesperson in the world, but she was going to make damn sure the transgenics got full credit for today's rescue. There was even a news crew approaching. Politician or not, Alec was more than glad for a reason to vanish.

The plane was an old refitted DC9. Its engines were still running, the stairs down. There would be at least two pilots on board, Alec figured. Maybe more guards too, if there were prisoners. Knowing they'd be expecting trouble, he didn't bother with the steps but leaped high into the air to land catlike in the open rear cargo door. Then he cautiously made his way forward in the plane.

There didn't seem to be anyone on board, Alec thought as he prowled through the empty passenger space, all of his transgenic senses on alert. The stale air reeked of sweat and urine, the interior filthy, mildew and mold on the walls and seat cushions, the floor slippery with dirt and oil. Alec's sensitive nostrils flared at the pungent odors. He hated to think of the people who'd been transported as prisoners in this hulk, the kids who'd huddled here, terrified and crying. There were manacles and chains stacked in one corner, a pile of children's clothing ... Was that rust, or blood? Alec shivered slightly, and forced himself to concentrate on the job at hand. Maybe it really was just a pilot or two in which case--

Too late he saw the dark skinned man with a pistol in his hand who'd been crouched down, hiding behind some equipment, the sound of his presence -- his breathing -- masked by the hum of the plane's engines. One instant, Alec was staring into dirty brown eyes; the next he was looking down at a red-feathered dart sticking out of his shoulder.

However, it took a heavy dose of narcotics to bring down an X5. His head spinning slightly, Alec charged, knocking the gun aside with his right arm, slipping behind his attacker, and delivering a debilitating knife hand strike to the neck before bringing the back of his hand around the guy's throat taking him to the floor. A final quick blow to the back of the head with his closed fist and the thug wasn't a problem any longer.

"Damn," Alec said, leaning heavily against a strut, and plucking the dart out of his shoulder with a grimace. He could taste the drug in his mouth, but knew he had Manticore to thank for his resistance to this kind of attack. He was a bit light headed, but hopefully he could still take out the pilots.

Staggering slightly, he'd almost reached the cockpit door when the second dart buried itself in his back. "Hey!" Alec roared, spinning around, spotting yet another slaver even as he lost his balance. The guy must have been in the can. Max would have his ass for being so careless.

X5's might have a high sedative tolerance level, but two full doses of the anesthetic in those darts was taking a toll. Alec stumbled, even as he charged. The third red-feathered dart caught him in the stomach, and then suddenly everything around him started to dim. He didn't feel it when he hit the floor. Vaguely, he heard voices around him speaking in a foreign language.

"Conte os pilotos ir!" (Tell the pilots to go!)

"Mas a carga?" (But the cargo?)

"É ido, mas nós ainda recebemo-lo!" (It's gone, but we've still got him!)

"Estão demente? É um cume!" (Are you insane? He's a cop!)

"Você realmente pensa nosso comprador vai ir cuidado! Olhe nele! É justo o que eles mandaram! Agora vá!" (You really think our buyer will care! Look at him! He's just what they ordered! Now go!)

The last thing Alec remembered before he slipped completely into darkness was the harsh vibration beneath his cheek as the plane taxied down the runway.

*****

"Where's Alec?" Logan asked. Max had finished her press conference and was looking extremely pleased with herself.

"He doesn't like the limelight, believe it or not," Max said. "He's probably skulking around outside, or waiting at the car."

"He's not at the car," Logan said. "I just came from there." Eyes Only did a slow turn, looking around the large hangar, trying to spot the dark blonde X5. "Max, I don't see him."

Max shrugged, an "I could care less" look on her face. "So, he took off on his own. Typical."

Clemente came trotting over, slightly out of breath. "Damn, that plane got away. I thought your guy was going to stop it."

For the first time, Max's brow furrowed. "He was supposed to stop it. You say the plane took off?"

"Five minutes ago," Clemente said, nodding toward the runway. "They didn't have clearance either."

Max was staring out at the tarmac. The children they'd just saved were being helped into an ambulance, but none appeared to be seriously injured. She and Alec had done a decent day's work for the good guys. It was time to go home now, and bask in the glory of their deed. Alec should be here right now, doing his "humble but proud" routine.

Max spun on Logan. "You don't think Alec was on that plane?"

"We need to search the area first, Max," Logan said levelly. Maybe he got hurt."

"They'd have found him by now," Max said, indicating the dozen policemen who were walking around the runway. "If he was injured or--" She pushed that thought away before the word formed. Alec was always all right. She wasn't going to go there. Her eyes went to the cloudy sky. It was starting to rain. "That plane had to have a flight plan. Where was it headed?"

Clemente heard her. "You think your guy got trapped on board?"

"Maybe," Max said slowly. "It would be just like Alec to screw up and get his ass caught."

"Why do you use him then?" Clemente asked. "If the guy's such a poor operative."

"Because he's not," Max said with a heavy sigh. "He's an excellent operative. One of Manticore's finest soldiers, Black Ops, undercover work, assassinations, you name it, Alec was trained for it."

Clement was looking at her with raised eyebrows. Assassinations?

Another heavy sigh on Max's part. "But he's one of those guys that, if there's trouble, he manages to find it. Or rather, trouble finds him. You know the type?"

Clemente nodded. "You have my sympathy."

"I'd rather have Alec," Max said tersely. "What was the flight plan for that DC9?"

Clemente called one of his men over and asked a few questions, then shook his head. "Des Moines, Iowa?" he said, his sarcasm obvious. "You don't suppose those slavers might have lied about their destination, do you?"

Max's shoulders drooped and she looked at Logan. "How the hell are we going to get him back? We don't know where in the world -- and I do mean world -- that plane's headed."

"We can't," Logan said levelly.

"Can't what?"

"Get Alec back. He's on his own. If he contacts us, we can help. But until we hear from him ..." He let the sentence trail off.

"You think they killed him?" Max had to ask.

Now, it was Logan's turn to shrug. "It's a possibility we have to face, Max. That Alec's gone for good." Logan's words were matter-of-fact, cold even, but she could see the worry in his blue eyes. In spite of all the unspoken things that lay between the two men, Alec was still a friend. And also, the very last thing in the world Logan wanted was to lose yet another X5 on an Eyes Only mission.

"So, we just go home and wait?" Max said.

"Alec will contact us if and when he can," Logan replied gently. He offered a small smile. "He's a smart guy, Max. Resourceful. You know how he can handle himself, talk his way out of trouble."

"Or into it," Max muttered.

Logan's eyes flickered to the grey sky and the now pouring rain. "You know, if the slavers do have Alec, they probably don't know what he really is. They probably think he's just a good looking young cop or NSA agent. He's within the profile parameters of the types they were kidnapping. They'll probably try to sell him."

"Into prostitution?" Max said. It was a thought that hadn't occurred to her, that Alec might actually now be a captive slave. She made a wry face at the thought.

"Max," Logan said gently. "If they don't realize Alec's a transgenic, they won't be taking any extra precautions. He'll certainly be able to get away. In fact, I almost feel sorry for the bastards. They've got a tiger by the tail and don't know it."

"If he's alive," Max had to add, unable to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.

"If he's alive," Logan repeated under his breath as they both stared out into the rain.