Photo courtesy of Supernaturalfan.net

*****

“Are you nuts?” Dean snarled. “All Sam and I need is to get caught breakin’ into a secret military base. We’re already in too many data bases as it is.”

“As if you guys don’t lie your way into and outta trouble every day of the week anyway,” Alec replied coolly, propping the bathroom door frame up with one shoulder as he crossed arms in front of his chest. Wearing a borrowed pair of Dean’s jeans and a black t-shirt, he was well aware that he looked like a slightly skewed reflection of his twin brother. However, he was also well aware that Sam, and more importantly Max, would never get the two of them mixed up. Physical resemblances aside, Dean Winchester and X5-494 had completely different demeanors and personalities -- a fact that was being emphasized at this very moment.

“Alec has a point,” Sam said mildly. “He knows about all of our fake I.D.s and secret identities, Dean ... the stuff we pull to get our own info. I told him ... before.” He looked at Dean and shrugged. “It’s not a stretch that we could help him and Max infiltrate the Gillette base.”

“Yeah, well, my life plans don’t include spendin’ the next twenty years in some military prison,” Dean said, his hazel-green eyes growing hard. “We’ve got our own troubles, Sam, without tackin’ on a big load of theirs.”

“We’re talking about saving the world, Dean,” Sam said, as usual his voice calm in comparison to his brother’s volatility. “And, in a way, our two problems are connected. The Breeding Cult worships a demon ... maybe even our demon from the way things have stacked up. And it’s this same Cult that causes the big electromagnetic pulse in Alec and Max’s time. Now, maybe it’s gonna happen in our time, or maybe not, or--”

“Maybe somethin’ Max and I do will stop it,” Alec completed Sam’s sentence.

“Or cause it,” Dean said darkly, crossing his arms as well.

“But first, we’ve gotta see where things stand with Manticore,” Alec continued, ignoring Dean, “Sandeman’s army so to speak.”

“You don’t even know this Manticore of yours exists here,” Dean pointed out, pushing off from the far wall to begin pacing the motel room he was sharing with Sam.

Alec’s eyes followed his brother warily. “It exists,” he said.

“How do you know?”

Alec glanced at Max. “Because even though we couldn’t dig very deep, we came up with enough background info to prove the Manticore project is being funded by the U.S. military, and that our old commander, Colonel Donald Lydecker, is involved.” He smirked. “Google can be a wonderful thing.”

Max advanced into the room from where she’d been standing beside Alec, taking center stage, and the three young men fell silent. When their queen spoke they listened, Alec silently thought as a little smile quirked his lips, admitting to himself that he wasn’t exactly immune to Max’s commanding presence either.

“Look, boys,” she said firmly, planting hands on black denim-clad hips. “This isn’t a game. We’re talking worldwide destruction here just three years down the road. What’s the saying? ‘Forewarned is forearmed?’ Well, Alec and I are forewarned, and I’ll be damned if we just sit still and let The Pulse happen. If Manticore had known about Sandeman and the Breeding Cult back at the turn of the century ... now ... all kinds of measures could have been taken to protect the United States. We need to expose the Cult to the world, and -- just as importantly -- we need to let Lydecker and Manticore know the true purpose of its soldiers, that we’re far more than a new weapon for their military to use in combat ... that we’ve been created to protect the human race itself.”

“Manticore ...” Sam said half to himself as fast moving fingers brought up information on his computer, taking a stab at a net search himself. “A mythological beast that was part man and part animal -- cat and bird to be specific, with a stinging tail of a scorpion.” He glanced up at Max. “A hybrid, just like the transgenics. Good name for the project.”

Alec conceded the point, as well as his heritage. “Panther, to be exact,” he said mildly.

“What?” Dean said.

“Max and I have some panther DNA in us -- at least that’s what we were told. Eagle too ... the design of our eyes I imagine.”

“Freaks,” Dean muttered, but he said the word without malice, more with wonder.

“We really do need to get access to the Manticore base,” Max said levelly, bringing the conversation back on topic. “We need to warn Lydecker so Manticore can focus on the real enemy -- the Breeding Cult. The transgenics are the only way to stop them.”

“And bringing down the Breeding Cult will certainly be a blow to the demon they worship,” Sam pointed out to Dean who was still looking skeptical. He shrugged. “It’s what we do, brother. Bring down demons.”

“All right,” Dean groused, jaw clenching and his eyes full of doubt. “We help them get their information.” He looked at Max then, his eyes sparkling. “But if we’re successful, I expect some kind of reward from you, sweetheart, and I’m not talkin’ about money.”

“Hey,” Alec said, straightening and one eyebrow rising. “You makin’ a move on my girl?”

“What if I am?” Dean teased.

Alec chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment, then he glanced at Max who was pouting prettily. “What about it, Maxie?” he asked, his voice rough and low. “Want a threesome?”

“Guys!” Sam protested. “That’s not funny!”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean said, obviously realizing his bluff had just been called but unwilling to back down.

Alec winked at him. “Nah,” he said. “I forgot. You’re an Ordinary. She’d be the death of you -- guaranteed.”

Max was looking from one brother to the other, unsure whether to play along. And then, meeting Dean’s eyes, she smiled sexily and purred, “He’s right, stud. You’d never survive a roll in the hay with me. Now, let’s get to work, boys. We’ve got plans to make.”

*****

Espionage, infiltration, and undercover work (not the kind involving a naked girl and a mattress, although he was good at that too) were things X5-494 understood. After all, he’d been trained for jobs like this the entire first 20 years of his life. Under Lydecker’s tight control at Manticore he’d literally lived and breathed the life that was to have made him a world class assassin. It was a side of Alec that rarely showed, but still as much a part of the young transgenic as his unique genetics.

Infiltrating Manticore’s Gillette base in Wyoming wouldn’t be easy, but it was also not impossible, especially since they had a little bit of help from future technology in the guise of Talon.

“All I need is access to one of their computer terminals inside,” Alec said, reaching inside his jacket pocket to finger the small DVD disc Sam had provided. “I copy their hard drive, including the codes, then we get a safe distance away and read at our leisure.”

“They’re not going to let someone from the outside just walk up to a computer and start downloading,” Sam said scathingly as he hitched himself higher so he could look down the wooded slope to Manticore’s well guarded front gate below. Hiding on the perimeter, the four were waiting until evening and what Max and Alec had assured would be a shift change -- the base’s most vulnerable moment.

The five-story cement complex surrounded by high chan link fence topped with concertina wire looked like a prison -- which in essence is what it was. As they watched, a group of about a dozen children dressed in khaki pants and jackets marched by on the parade field. Alec glanced over at Max, both thinking the same thing ... wondering if the two of them were among those young soldiers. After all, the age would be about right ...

“What if you guys meet yourselves?” Dean asked -- the question that had really been on all of their minds.

“The world explodes?” Alec said lightly. “Hell, I don’t have a clue. In fact, I’d rather not think about it.” Once again, he eyed those marching children, so much alike with their burr haircuts, identical uniforms, and expressionless faces. Those vacant eyes were eerie, and Alec wondered if he’d ever been that far gone ... that much of a zombie. But of course I was. And if it wasn’t for Max, I’d still be.

“You ready?” Max asked him as Alec checked one last time to make certain the credentials Dean had faked for them looked real enough to pass muster. He nodded. Then he stood up, straightened his necktie, and donned the pair of clear-lens glasses he’d picked up at a dollar store. Smoothing his short hair back, he glanced at Max and nodded with approval. As planned, her voluptuous body was working the loose flowing burgundy dress with its matching jacket, showing just enough cleavage, raven dark hair, and leg to soften the hearts and harden the dicks of any young male soldiers they came across. However, the glasses and briefcase made her seem very much like a young business woman, lending an air of authority to her otherwise lusty looks.

“We’ll be waiting at the rendezvous point,” Dean said levelly.

“If you hear a commotion ... sirens ... gunfire,” Alec said. “Get out, and don’t look back.”

“Count on it,” Dean said, his smile wicked. “Like I said before. Sam and I aren’t gonna end up in some federal prison just to help your asses, Future Boy.”

“Dean,” Sam chided.

“Well, we’re not.”

“Understood,” Alec said softly, agreeing because it was what he’d have said himself.

*****

“State Child Welfare Services?” the guard at the front gate questioned when Alec rolled down the driver’s side window of their rented sedan and showed the I.D. Dean had so painstakingly created for them the day before.

“Unscheduled inspection,” Alec said crisply, flashing his most charming smile. “Happens sometimes, even to the best of us.”

The guard, an older soldier -- not a teenager -- reached for the phone, dialed a two-digit number, waited, then said, “Child Welfare Services are here, sir. “They want to do an inspection.”

Alec and Max had wracked their brains several days before trying to come up with a plausible, not to mention peaceful, way to infiltrate the Gillette base. A break-in would have been extremely risky -- not that they wouldn’t attempt it as a last resort. However, undercover work was usually far more reliant on nonviolent methods ... stealth ... ingratiating oneself into a circle of people ... fake identities ... having the balls to pull off the pretend ...

It had been Alec who’d remembered the inspections by the state welfare people back in the day, checking on the well-being of the children that were supposedly the dependents of soldiers away on missions who had no other means of child care -- a ruse thought up by Lydecker (and Sandeman) and perpetuated quite well through the years that Manticore was experimenting on human babies while attempting to create its supersoldier race. He remembered being told to go out and play like an “ordinary” child on the playground equipment in the yard, to answer all questions politely, to not volunteer any information, and above all to “look happy.” He’d been told back then it was a test of his undercover skills, to see if he could “act” like a normal human child.

X5-494 had always scored an “A” on those tests. But then that had been his specialty, manipulating people using his charisma and empathic skills.

“If only they’d known what was really going on,” Max murmured as they were escorted down a familiar long hallway to an office they both remembered too well.

Alec knew it was his imagination, but he could almost feel the collar-covered bar code on the back of his neck itching ... tingling ... as if the symbol was somehow activated by the place where he’d been created and born.

The door opened, and it took everything Alec had to not stare as a jarringly young Colonel Donald Lydecker stood up from behind his desk and offered his hand. “Mr. McDowell, Ms. Guevera,” he said, his voice not quite so gravelly as Alec remembered. “Welcome to the base. I’m sure you’ll find the children well cared for and happy, and everything in order, just like always.”

“I’m sure we will,” Alec said, returning the handshake firmly, at the same studying that face he knew so well. He actually could vaguely recall a time like this when Lydecker’s skin wasn’t lined with creases and his hair had still been blond, but seeing this younger version of his tormentor now was beyond weird. Max, too, was shaken. He could literally feel her discomfort.

“We’re on a bit of a tight schedule,” Max said, her voice not betraying her emotions. “Can we see the children?”

“Of course,” Lydecker said, walking around the desk and leading the way. “Two groups are in class, and the other is at recess.”

Ranging in age from five to eight years old, the young X5s, at first glance, looked just like any other normal kids when the Colonel opened the school room door, their buzzed heads bent over their school tasks.

“Isn’t it a bit harsh, making the girls keep their hair so short?” Max asked.

“This is a military school,” Lydecker said easily. “The dress code is strict. However, their parents have given approval.”

“More like a prison than a school,” Max pressed, even as Alec stepped closer to her and squeezed her elbow hard. They didn’t need to antagonize the man here ...

“The children are receiving the finest education in the country,” Lydecker said, his voice a bit cooler. “These youngsters will all go on to prestigious universities as well as becoming our next generation of superior military minds.”

“And the bar codes on their necks?” Max asked acidly. “Did the parents give permission for their children to receive tattoos?”

Alec’s heart rate increased. Max was pushing too hard, letting her emotions get in the way of the mission.

“Yes, they did,” Lydecker said. “We have the permission slips on file if you’d like to see them. The children wear the tattoos proudly. It’s a symbol of their honor and accomplishments from being in our exclusive program.”

The boys and girls “playing” on the playground equipment looked like any other group of children, except perhaps for the silence. There were no yells ... no laughter ... no talking even.

“Kind of quiet, aren’t they?” Alec said.

“Our students are very serious about their training,” Lydecker simply said.

“Training?” Alec said.

“Education,” the Colonel corrected. “Would you like to see their sleeping quarters? I’m sure you’ll find it austere, but comfortable.”

How about the vivisection labs, torture chambers, and prison cells? Alec wanted to ask. But he kept his mouth shut. They weren’t here on a rescue mission. They were here to get information. His eyes flickered across the playground, looking for himself or Max. So far, he hadn’t seen any children that could be their other-universe selves. However, he also wasn’t positive he’d recognize himself at age seven. Manticore had been pretty short on mirrors ...

They got their chance just before leaving -- right when Alec was beginning to wonder how they were going to ditch the Colonel long enough to access the computer system. Max pulled out a sheath of papers that ostensibly needed signatures and put it down on Lydecker’s desk in front of him.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” Alec said. “I think I saw one just down the hall.”

“Go right ahead,” the Colonel said as he bent his head over the papers. “But don’t wander any further. This is a well guarded facility and I wouldn’t want you tripping an alarm.”

“To the head and back only,” Alec said with a charming smile as he opened the door and walked into the hallway. A quick check in either direction assured him he wasn’t being observed by anything other than the video cameras. Ducking into the restroom, he took up a position in the corner behind the door that he knew from old times wasn’t in range of the camera. Then he lightly pressed the micro transmitter stuck on the mastoid bone behind his ear. “Now, Talon,” he said.

He felt, rather than heard, the confirmation.

The bathroom lights flickered twice, then went out. Five seconds later there was a loud whir and the emergency bulbs blinked on bathing the restroom in red light. Outside in the hallway feet ran past. The X5 waited a beat, then poked his head out to see the front desk empty, the soldiers manning it having gone to the power room to check the breakers. Of course the small, pinpoint power surge Talon had sent through the electric lines to the base would wear off in less than five minutes, but hopefully that would be long enough for Alec to accomplish his mission, unobserved while the security cameras were scrambled.

The computer terminal at the main desk was glowing, having rebooted under power of the emergency generator. Alec quickly inserted the disc he’d brought along, accessed the hard drive, and began copying. Secret files might be difficult to get to, but at least he’d have the bulk of Manticore’s surface information this way. However, the timing was going to be close. Waiting, Alec kept glancing up the hallway, willing the bar indicating percent copied to move faster. A small beep told him the task was finished and he retrieved the disc. Then, checking once more to be sure he wasn’t going to have company, his keen ears not picking up approaching footsteps, he took the time to add the coup de grace, a plan he wasn’t certain would work but if it did would be well worth the risk. Inserting a second disc that Sam and Dean didn’t know about, X5-494 uploaded what was essentially a virus into the military computer complex -- one that, if successfully activated, would give Talon access to everything that was Manticore.

*****

Alec liked music. He always had. And ... he especially liked Dean’s music -- not that he’d ever let the guy know. Now, as he sat in front of Sam’s laptop in the hotel room he caught himself actually tapping his fingers to the strains of an old Rolling Stones song emanating from the Chevy Impala parked out front, the radio in the car on while Dean checked under the hood.

He was about to make a smart alec comment about his twin brother at least having decent taste in music when it came to rock and roll when the computer beeped and the screen changed, the Manticore code on the data they’d retrieved at last cracked by Talon. (Not that Sam and Dean had any idea Alec was getting a little help.)

“Max, c’mere.” He looked up and back at her as she approached, abandoning what she’d been doing, sorting through a pile of jeans, t-shirts, and other clothes recently purchased for the two of them at a local Salvation Army store.

“Your waist still a thirty-two?” she murmured as her eyes went to the screen.

“You mean am I still a lean, mean, fightin’ machine?” Alec snarked as he brought up a menu. “Always.”

“There,” Max said, her voice no longer playful as she pointed with a finger. “It’s the X5 data base.”

“Time to find out if you and I exist in this world?” Alec said as he clicked the link. “Maybe brother Ben, too?”

“Among others,” Max said, leaning forward so her long hair brushed the side of his face. Smiling ... hazel-green eyes sparkling ... Alec took time to touch his lips to hers, for a second just enjoying the moment ... the freedom.

“The data base,” Max said softly, light fingertips turning his head back toward the screen.

“Right,” Alec whispered huskily, the data base suddenly not first and foremost in his mind any more. However, there’d be time for fun later ...

There was a history of the project that came up first -- one that pretty much ran parallel to Manticore’s evolution in their own time, at least so far as Alec knew -- followed by a list of X5 soldiers enumerated by bar code number, a lot of familiar designations but of course no “names.”

“X5-494,” Alec read, leaning forward when he saw the set of numbers that essentially was “him.” He clicked on the link, and his eyebrows drew down. “Embryo death two hours, seven minutes after cloning procedure,” he said softly. He turned eyes briefly to Max then brought up his brother. “X5-493, embryo death four hours, three minutes after cloning procedure.” He took a deep breath. “They killed us both,” he said simply. “Oh well, at least no worries about duplicates running around in this world.

“And me?” Max said.

Alec clicked the link for X5-452. “Euthanized for study of seizure disorder December 25, 2005,” he read. “Brain studies and autopsy inconclusive. Merry Christmas.” Again, he looked up at Max. “They don’t know what’s causing it -- the seizures. They killed kids back in our timeline too, tryin’ to find out why their precious X5 series were all gettin’ the shakes.”

Max reached over him and tapped the keyboard, forwarding to current medical histories. “They still don’t know,” she breathed. “Damn it. They’re still tearing apart X5s trying to figure out what’s wrong with them ... killing children ...”

“The government had ... has ... big bucks in us, Max,” Alec said. “It’s worth the sacrifice to them if they can fix us. Back home they came up with a long acting serotonin replacement at Manticore and of course you and I can always use tryptophan.” He fingered the bottle of white tablets he always carried in a pocket. “But here ... they haven’t got a clue.”

“So much for Sandeman’s special child,” Max said wryly “If ‘Father’ made the blood of my counterpart here like mine -- with the antibodies to cure the Cult’s plague when it hits in the future -- then Lydecker and his team of scalpel-happy doctors have already ruined things.”

“Except for the fact that you’re here now,” Alec pointed out.

“Hey, I didn’t come back in time to save their world. I came back to save mine.”

“Point taken,” Alec agreed. He bit down on his lower lip, still studying the screen. “But this stuff also indicates Manticore doesn’t know about the Breeding Cult or Sandeman’s plan to save mankind. “I’m thinkin’ Lydecker needs to be told -- forcefully.”

“How?” Max snorted. “An anonymous letter? ‘Dear Colonel, your X5s are dying from serotonin deficiency and a Snake Cult probably led by a demon is going to drop a Pulse Bomb on the United States in 2009.’ Yeah, right. I’m sure he’ll take that seriously.”

“He’ll take it seriously if I tell him face-to-face,” Alec said quietly. “After all, I’m living proof that his X5 soldiers are well worth the effort ... the success story ... even if he thinks they’re a failure now.”

“Success story?” Max said dryly.

“Hey,” Alec replied with a wicked smile as he spread arms wide. “What’s not to like?”

“No,” Max said, sobering. “Alec, it’s too dangerous. If you go into Manticore and reveal who you really are they’ll never let you go. They’ll--”

“Hey, guys,” Sam said, opening the hotel room door while balancing a sack full of groceries. “Did you find out what you need to know to save the world?”

“Yeah,” Alec replied easily, stretching and refusing to look Max in the eye. “I think we did. But I’m gonna need to use that I.D. again.”

*****

It was late -- after midnight, but as usual Colonel Donald Lydecker was inside the Manticore complex, working. After all, what was there for him in the outside world? He’d already peeked in on his kids, checking the young X5s as they lay sleeping in their dormitory bunks. It saddened him tonight because the little girl the others called “Jondy” was going to have to be sacrificed tomorrow, one more in a long line of Units euthanized so their brains could be dissected. However, he consoled himself with the thought that the child’s death might not be in vain. Maybe this time the scientists ... the vivisectionists ... would be able to pinpoint the cause of the seizures that were wrecking havoc among what should have been the perfect supersoldier breeding line, human/feline hybrid creatures designed this time with the fine-tuning of their looks and features so they could easily pass in the real world as homo sapiens even though their genetics put them in another category altogether. Speed, strength, healing abilities, super keen senses, I.Q.'s of genius level, and myriad other attributes, each child was precious to Lydecker ... each known to him by name as well as designation number. He was fond of “Jondy” in particular ... a pet of sorts. However, her seizures had worsened over the past month and The Committee was demanding results.

The Colonel opened his office door, but when he flipped the light switch nothing happened. Then he saw the shadow move.

“Stay still, stay quiet, and don’t reach for your gun,” a low male voice said in a commanding tone. A figure stepped forward, illuminated only by the lights of the parking lot as they shone through the half-curtained and barred window.

“Who are you?” Lydecker asked, schooling his voice carefully to the casual, but at the same time gauging the distance to the alarm button beneath his desk.

“Not a spy,” the young man said. “Oddly enough, I’m your friend in a way, someone you’d be very glad to know if you knew who I really was.”

“Only a spy would need to have access to my office in the middle of the night,” Lydecker pointed out. “Who hired you? The South Africans? They’ve been hot and heavy to get their hands on a current embryo now that the X2s they had before all went insane.”

“The problem you’re having with your kids,” the young man said, “the seizures, is caused by a serotonin deficiency in their brains. Supplement them with tryptophan, preferably a long lasting derivative, and the problem goes away leaving you your perfect X5s. There’s no need to kill any more children.”

“What do you know about X5s?” Lydecker said, his voice hardening to a dangerous level.

“A lot,” the young man said, stepping forward so his face was more visible in the light. He was handsome -- Lydecker noted that first -- Caucasian, six feet tall, well built but not massive, and something about the way he held himself ... moved ... reminded him of-- But of course that was impossible.

“Who are you?” Lydecker demanded again. He studied the face more closely. “You’re the one who was here before, from Child Welfare.” He took in the jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket. “Where’s the tie?”

“Hangin’ on the back of a chair,” the intruder said with a small smile. “You’re right. I’m not from Child Welfare.”

“Then you’re a spy.”

“No. Like I said, I’m here to give you information vital to your X5 program. Its success is important, for more reasons than you and your Committee know. Those young soldiers, in the near future, may be the only hope mankind has against some really nasty people that want to take over the world.”

“You’re insane.”

“If I am, then it’s because you made me that way, ‘Deck.”

Lydecker scowled, a chill running down his spine, even as he edged closer to the desk. “The Middle East block ... they sent you, right? They’ve wanted their own supersoldiers for years now and its killing them that Manticore has accomplished the impossible.”

“I’m the future, ‘Deck,” the young man said. “Even if you don’t believe what I’m tellin’ you, at least look into it. There’s a group of people that’s infiltrated all the top levels of government all over the world. They’re known as the Breeding Cult. They’re working on a bomb, ‘Deck -- a magnetic pulse bomb that when detonated will turn the United States into a third world country. Afterwards, they’ll unleash a plague to wipe out humanity so their own kind can take over the world. The X5s are the only way to stop them. Just ask Sandeman.”

“Who’s Sandeman?”

“I wish I knew,” the young man said, and for some reason Lydecker believed him, at least about that. “But you need to find the guy and talk to him about the Breeding Cult. In my world we were too late. The Pulse happened, and then worse. Here ... there’s still time to stop it.”

“Your world?”

“Don’t you get it, ‘Deck?” the intruder said with a smile that showed white teeth in the darkness. “I’ve come from the future to warn you. I’m one of your ‘kids’ all grown up.”

The Colonel lunged forward and hit the alarm button. Instantly a loud klaxon began blaring throughout the Gillette complex. Eyes narrowing, the young man moved ... blurred ... toward the office door. Then, at a speed still impossible for a mere human, he sped down the hallway toward the bank of elevators.

Later, Colonel Donald Lydecker would review those security tapes a hundred times or more in a row, marveling ... not daring to believe ... what he was seeing. There was a guard contingency of six soldiers coming up in the elevator car when the intruder reached it. Instead of turning and running, the young man leaped inside, literally into the arms of what should have been his captors. The martial arts moves he used were incredible, both in speed and strength. One blow per man -- cold, efficient, practical, and very, very well trained. Twelve seconds and all six guards were sprawled on the floor, broken and bloody (but not dead).

The elevator reached ground level, and the creature disguised as a human plowed through the two guards at the front desk like they weren’t even there, his incredible speed, strength, and boldness quite literally bowling them over. The front gate had been closed and sealed the second the alarm went off. Their intruder should have been trapped on the grounds, inside the 12-foot tall chain link fences. However, what transpired next was impossible. Yet there it was, caught on tape. The handsome young man had paused briefly, looked back over his shoulder, and deliberately stared into the security camera while flashing an incredibly charming know-it-all smile. Then -- just as the guards raised their weapons -- he’d whirled, sprinted straight toward the front gate and, in a superhuman leap, cleared the concertina wire to land with the grace of a cat on the other side.

The woods and darkness did the rest. A Unit and a helicopter had combed the woods for hours, but he was gone.

Most of the tapes were grainy ... indistinct. However, there was one segment of the fight in the elevator fairly well lit and now Lydecker froze a close-up of the intruder, then advanced the picture frame-by-frame, trying to analyze who -- or rather “what” -- had breached all of Manticore’s security so easily. Which is when Colonel Donald Lydecker’s heart literally stood still as disbelief warred with shock -- because there, plain as day on the back of the young man’s briefly exposed neck, was a Manticore bar code tattoo identifying him as the dead come back to life: X5-494.