3.08.01 Brothers In Arms
Jan. 26th, 2010 05:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
virtualdaepisode: Virtual Dark Angel episode 3.08
season: Virtual Dark Angel season 3
As the fragile truce between the transgenics and the city of Seattle begins to crumble, Max, Logan and Alec must all choose whether to run, or to remain in Terminal City and face their own deepest fears…
Alec's sleeping quarters, Terminal City – August 25, 6:00 AM
Terminal City was still and silent just before dawn. Only the guards, inside and outside the fence, were awake in the gray light.
On his bedroll, Alec tossed restlessly, dreaming.
In the dream, it was daylight, but Terminal City was deserted. Alec crept through the sleeping quarters, past Logan’s room. He glanced in the door and saw Max and Logan on the floor, in a tangle of sheets, making love. They did not hear or see him. Noiselessly, he slipped through an open doorway and out into the streets that led to the railroad yards.
Inside one of the old boxcars was a shiny black motorcycle, left behind by one of the protestors. He climbed on, turned the key, and rode down a ramp and out the back gate of Terminal City. No one saw him, no one tried to stop him. The streets of Seattle were damp and slick from an early-morning rain, and shrouded in fog. Then a familiar iron fence and an open gate emerged from the mist. The Berrisford estate.
Alec rode up the long driveway. Suddenly he was inside the house, once again unseen and unheard, as he moved through the music room, down the curved staircase, and to the pool. There, beside the clear blue water, was Rachel, in white. She held out her hand and he took it; together they jumped into the pool and surfaced, laughing. They made love by the water.
Then, abruptly, he was back outside the iron fence, but this time it surrounded Father Destry's church. He put his hand out to open the gate and Father Destry appeared. "I'm not Ben," Alec tried to shout, but his voice was barely a whisper.
The priest frowned. "I know who you are," he said. The church bells began to ring, and Father Destry turned away. The gate would not open.
The bike was somehow parked right there on the street. Alec jumped on it and hit the gas. Now the streets were crowded. He passed sector police, homeless families, hungry people waiting in food lines. Then he saw Normal, holding a birthday cake with lit candles. Normal was shouting something, but it didn't make any sense. Alec couldn't take his eyes off the candles and Normal's frantic face. Then he looked up.
Dead ahead of him, the street had become a road curving sharply out of the city into the woods. He was going far too fast to make the turn. There was nothing he could do but hang on as the trees rushed up to him, horribly fast. A white bird flew off a branch and while he watched it rise, the bike smashed into the tree...
Panting, bathed in sweat, Alec jerked awake. Light filtered through the grimy window above his head. Morning had come to Terminal City.
Seattle Police Headquarters – 9:00 AM
Commander Ramon Clemente sat in his office, concentrating on a TV monitor, playing the latest Eyes Only broadcast over and over again.
“...But can any of us be free if those who fight for us are treated like slaves? If we allow them to be enslaved, will we be far behind? Who will be next…our friends, our neighbors, ourselves? This has been a Streaming Freedom Video Bulletin via the Eyes Only informant net. Stay strong in the struggle. Peace. Out.”
Clemente dropped the remote control on the desk, then stood up and opened the door of his office. Matt Sung was just arriving, takeout coffee in one hand and the morning newspaper in the other. MARINERS CLINCH! read the headline, but at the bottom of the front page was a small box with a grainy screen capture of Eyes Only and the caption, HE'S BA-ACK!
“Pretty interesting, isn't it, Detective?" Clemente asked. "Why has this guy decided to broadcast again? I think it's time we had a little talk with your friend, Mr. Cale. I want him in here to answer some questions."
Matt Sung didn't answer.
“Put out an APB. I want Cale in here this afternoon. Understood?”
"Yes, sir," Sung said faintly as Clemente returned to his office. As the door closed, Sung tossed the paper down on his desk in disgust.
A street, Terminal City – 10:00 AM
Max walked past a line of abandoned warehouses. Seattle was known for its cloudy weather, but today the scowl on Max's face showed her skepticism that the sun would ever shine on Terminal City again. As she walked past one of the warehouses, she could hear shouting. Max paused, then entered the building.
The large room had no windows and would have been dark, but someone had managed to siphon electricity off the main grid. The warehouse was crowded with X-series in their late teens and early twenties, standing around a ring in which two male X-series were fighting.
In the corner, the bookmaker shouted, “Everybody, place your bets! Who’s going to be the winner?”
Max narrowed her eyes. “Wonder if good old Monty Cora’s got his hands in this?”
She walked over to the bookmaker, leaned against the table he was standing behind and asked, “How’s it going?”
The man shrugged. “We’re running out of beer, but otherwise...”
“Running out of beer? This a bar?”
“Nah, folks have been using it for bets. Ever heard the phrase 'your money's no good here'? If that ain't Terminal City, I don't know what is.”
“You’re gambling with beer ‘cause you don’t have money?”
“That's what I just said, honey, but look, if you're not going to place a bet, move out of the way, okay? We're on a tight schedule here."
Max opened her mouth to respond, then decided it was better to not say anything. She stepped aside as a girl, probably X5, moved up to the table and said, “I want to bet on the Killer Chimera but I'm out of beer. Would you take this instead?”
She handed him a bag and the bookmaker took it and peeked in. He groaned a little but nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take it.”
Before he could hand her a receipt, Max took the bag and opened it.
“Vegetables?” she asked him, incredulous.
Turning to the line of people waiting to bet, she looked inside each of the bags they were carrying and shook her head.
“Now I have seen it all. You’re not honestly doing this, are you?”
The bookmaker looked at her, surprised. “What are we not doing?”
Max threw the bag back at him and went over to the ring and climbed in. The Xs who had been fighting stopped and looked at her in confusion when she started to speak.
“Okay, that’s it! Time to go home,” she shouted at everyone as the crowd grew quiet. Nobody moved except an X5 Max hadn’t noticed before. He was tall, well trained, as they all were, but not exactly handsome. Max watched him step into the ring.
“Says who?” he asked.
“Says me,” Max shot back. “Let’s behave like nice little soldiers and all go home, okay?”
“'Let’s behave like nice little soldiers?' Who the hell are you?”
“Who the hell are you?" Max shot back.
“My name’s Rocky. I’m in charge here. And I'm not a 'nice little soldier.'" He grabbed Max by the arm as if he were a bouncer getting ready to throw her out of a club.
"Oh yeah?" Instead of struggling, Max moved closer until she was an inch from his face. "Nice to meet you, Rocky. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm Max. And I'm…" She deftly flipped him off his feet and dropped him flat on his back in the ring. "…not a 'nice little soldier' either."
She turned to the group, who stood watching. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get food into Terminal City? How many people are risking their lives to give us supplies like food and clothes? Even beer? And you’re using it for gambling?”
One of the Xs who had been fighting asked, “What’s wrong with a few harmless bets?”
“If you can’t afford to lose what you’re betting with, plenty.”
Max stared around the room. Faces, some sullen, some angry and some just impassive, stared back. From the corner of her eye she saw Alec in the doorway, his eyebrows raised as if to ask, “Need a hand?” She shook her head slightly, then turned back to the room.
“This fight club is officially closed. If you’re looking for thrills, try volunteering for a supply run.”
Suddenly a well-known voice piped up from the entrance. “Forget about it,” Mole told Max, stepping forward. “Nobody’s gonna shut down the fight club. Not even you.”
Everybody looked at the lizard-faced transgenic as he climbed into the ring. Even those who had already started to leave the warehouse stopped and turned around at the sound of his menacing voice.
Max stared at him in disbelief. “You’re telling me that we should let them continue their fight club? No, Mole, no way in hell I'm gonna let them play stupid games with our supplies just to get a few cheap thrills."
“Let them have a little fun,” Mole said, his cigar still in his mouth. The crowd started muttering their assent.
“No way. Not here, not now. Not with our food,” Max shot back. “And since I’m in charge here, it's my decision. This fight club is closed. If you’ve got anything to add, Mole, you can do that later at Command,” she said firmly and faced the crowd again. “Show's over. Everyone, get out.”
Mole stared at her, while a few people started to leave the warehouse again. Max stared back, looking so angry that most of the participants hurried out without asking for their beer or food back.
When the bookmaker started to leave, she jumped out of the ring and grabbed him by his collar. “Take the beer to the Last Stop and the food to the mess hall. And don’t let me catch you trying to set this up again.”
A few moments later, she was alone, except for Alec. Her anger faded as she walked over to him.
“Sometimes I really hate this job,” she told Alec tiredly, leaning back against the wall. "And this place is getting way too big. It's not that everyone has to bow when I enter a room, but that moron didn't even know who I was."
“Aw, c'mon Max, you know you love yelling at people," Alec replied, punching her arm lightly. She didn't respond, so he continued, "Hey, is that supply run for real, or were you just clearing the room? ‘Cause I’ve got a little time on my hands.”
“It’s for real, but…” Uncharacteristically, Max hesitated. “You’ve already done more than your share. I’ll get someone else to do it.” She pushed off from the wall and started to walk away.
“Oh, no, you don’t. What aren't you telling me? Why don’t you want me on this run?”
Max stopped and faced him. “It’s a supply pickup from Father Destry.”
“I’ll do it,” Alec said immediately, his tone nonchalant.
Max looked closely at him. “You sure? Logan said…”
Alec shrugged. “Hey, I’ve got nothing against the guy if he’s got nothing against me.”
“Okay,” Max said hesitantly. “But be careful, okay? Things have been kind of ugly out there lately.”
“I’ll go incognito. How’s that?”
“You really that desperate to get out of here?”
“Nah,” Alec said casually. “Just doing whatever I can for the cause.”
A manhole, Sector 5 – 11:00 AM
The bushes bordering the Gates Playground grew wild, as if they hadn‘t been trimmed since before the Pulse. The children playing on the lopsided metal slide and creaking old swing paid no attention to the ragged man who crawled out from under those bushes and made his way unsteadily down the street. He huddled over a battered metal garbage can, back turned to a passing sector patrol car.
“All clear," Alec said to himself, and moved back out into the street, doing his best to weave and shuffle as if he were still under the influence from the night before. Finally, when he was safely away from the manhole, he staggered into a shadowy alley to shed his filthy coat. Sighing with relief, he checked his watch.
"Way early. Good work, my man,” he congratulated himself. Then, with an expression of businesslike concentration, he began to walk down the street, scanning every parked vehicle. After several blocks, his eyes lit up.
"Oh, baby, come to Papa," he said in satisfaction, his step quickening.
Another manhole, Sector 5 – 11:15 AM
Strips of yellow CAUTION tape and orange traffic cones marked off all but a narrow lane of Laurel Street, causing a minor traffic jam as car after car carefully negotiated past a parked backhoe, a large pile of sandy dirt and debris, and a yawning excavation. Seeing a man in heavy boots, a nondescript jacket, and a hardhat emerging from the pit in front of the backhoe, the irate driver of a bakery delivery truck rolled down his window to shout furiously, “When you guys gonna fix this friggin’ street? How hard can it be to replace a coupla sewer pipes, huh?”
“We’re working on it, sir,” the man replied politely. The driver scowled and, hitting the gas, roared off. The worker disappeared behind the backhoe as the next driver began the obstacle course.
Logan waited on the far side of the backhoe for a moment, then removed the hardhat. Dropping it discreetly into the cab of the backhoe, he replaced it with a dark baseball cap, then hurried down the sidewalk past the line of waiting cars.
At the other end of the block, just as the bakery truck reached the corner, a sector patrol car pulled up, lights flashing. The truck driver looked at his watch, then gunned the motor and swerved around the patrol car as it attempted to block the intersection.
"Asshole," said the cop in the passenger seat, watching in the rearview mirror as the truck disappeared down the street.
"Ah, let it go," said the driver, stopping the car in the middle of the intersection. Immediately horns began to blow. "Got that picture? Let's go see if anyone recognizes – what's the guy's name? Cole?"
"Cale," said the other cop. "Logan Cale."
A street, Sector 5
In front of a run-down coffee shop, a motorcycle was parked, unattended and with the keys dangling from the ignition. "Take your time," Alec said to the coffee-shop window, addressing the soon-to-be former owner of the bike. As he strolled casually back towards the bike, he quickly glanced around. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in amazement as he found himself looking straight into Logan’s face.
“Logan! Hey, buddy! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Logan replied, eyes narrowed.
“I’m out on a supply run for Max. You?”
Logan didn’t respond to that. “Supply run to where?”
“The good Father Destry’s church.”
“Church is that way,” Logan said, indicating north.
“Yeah, well,” Alec began. “I’ll get there. I’ve just got a little errand to run—"
Logan interrupted. "See you 'round, then. I've got an errand to run myself. And listen, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention – you know, to Max – that I was here.”
"Oh." Alec stared at Logan, frankly curious, but Logan didn't meet his eyes. "What, you gonna surprise Max with something? Get her mind off the job for a while?"
"Something like that," said Logan, still avoiding his gaze.
"As long as I’m not gonna get involved in another lie. You know. Seeing as how the last one got me in all kinds of trouble.”
“This isn’t like that,” Logan said shortly. “Thanks. Later.” He turned away.
“Yeah. Later.” Mystified, Alec shrugged and moved back towards the bike, but it was too late. The coffee shop door banged open and a very attractive young woman in leather pants and jacket strode out, helmet in hand. She gave Alec a hard look and he stepped back. "Nice bike," he said in a friendly tone, but she roared off without a word.
Then he saw Logan, about a half-block away, turn suddenly and enter a building. On impulse Alec darted across the street. The door Logan had entered was marked only with scratched, faded gold numbers, but inside, a building directory was clearly labeled. "Metro Medical Professional Offices," it read, followed by a list of doctors and office numbers. Alec looked around.
"A hospital? That is not good," he said under his breath.
North Perimeter, Terminal City
Max headed toward the front gate. It was quiet in the Command Center, and her experience from the night before was still on her mind. It bothered her that she didn't know everyone in Terminal City any more, but the census had crept up to over 700 since the siege began.
Two guards, one human-looking, the other reptilian, stood on duty in the building closest to the gate, invisible to the National Guard and police.
“Hey, everything all right, Lou?” Max asked the guards.
They nodded.
“Yeah, quiet day out there so far," Lou, the human-looking guard, replied.
“You’re Max, right?” the other guard asked while Lou kept an eye on the soldiers at the gate.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Sorry, I don’t know your name. We've got so many new arrivals here. Guess I need to get out more.”
“I’m Croc,” he said, smiling.
Max smiled too. “Croc, huh?”
“Got a little too much crocodile in my cocktail,” he laughed. “But don't worry; I don’t bite.”
"Me either. Well, most of the time, anyway," Max assured him.
“Sounds like all the excitement's been inside the fence today. Rumor is, someone shut down the fight club.”
Max sighed. “Yeah, someone shut down that stupid fight club. Did you…” she started, but was interrupted.
Croc shook his head. “Not my thing. I let the X-series do what they want, as long as they don’t hurt anyone else. But I also heard from the munitions guys that some weapons from the supply depot are missing.”
“Dammit,” Max said. “What’s gone?”
“A couple of rifles and some shotguns, as far as I know,” he replied.
“We use our food for gambling and steal our own weapons,” Max sighed. "I don't understand what's happening here lately...Now, when things are even worse on the outside, we're trying to destroy ourselves from within.”
Croc shrugged.
"Thanks for letting me know," Max replied, her voice tired. She shook his hand and then turned to head back to the Command Center.
Sam Carr’s Office, Metro Medical – 1 PM
Logan sat on the examination table, waiting for Sam Carr to return with his test results. Sitting in this office, on this table, left him with a sense of déjà vu.
"Logan, spinal nerve damage does not just heal itself…not ever."
"I'm telling you, this isn't something I'm imagining."
It had been nearly eighteen months before that he had sat here, waiting expectantly, the first twinges of movement and sensation returning after the shooting. Now the feeling was completely different, and it left him unsettled.
"Well, this is your second go-around with transfusions of transgenic blood. We both know what happened the first time. Nerve cell regeneration didn't last, and you lost mobility again."
"This is different. Last time nothing happened for weeks after the transfusion. This time it was almost instantaneous."
"Maybe you're right; maybe this time it'll stick. Bottom line is...only time will tell."
"Hey, Logan, sorry to keep you waiting, but I wanted to have a radiologist take a look at these scans before I went over them with you," the doctor said as he walked into the room.
Logan smiled. "No problem. I appreciate you squeezing me into your schedule. It's kinda hard to predict when I can get in and out of Terminal City."
Sam nodded and crossed to the light box. He flipped on the light and slid the sheet of CT scan results under the clip.
"So, any clue what's causing this pain? Did you find evidence of the virus returning?" Logan asked.
Sam stared at the scans for a moment and then turned to Logan, his face creased with concern.
"I wish I had better news, Logan."
Logan's head slipped into his hands. After a moment, he looked back up at the neurologist.
"So the virus is back."
Sam pulled over a stool and sat down, facing Logan. "It doesn't appear to be the virus, actually. Your blood work is all quite good. I can see evidence of the antibodies, but no active virus. But both the CT scan and the blood work showed something else. There are other antibodies at work."
"And they're doing what?"
"It's what happened before. You have more immunity this time, but without intervention, those antibodies are going to slowly rob you of your ability to walk." The doctor got up and crossed back to the light box.
"You can see here and here," he pointed to the scan. "There's evidence of damage to the cord, where it healed after Joshua's transfusion. I'm quite certain that is what's causing your pain and weakness."
"But it's different this time," Logan interjected.
"It is. It's not an outright rejection of the cells like you had with Max's, but your body is developing antibodies that are fighting the cells you received from Joshua."
"So, what do we do?" Logan asked, quietly. "I tried about a year ago to find that doctor, the one that Vertes talked about being in Japan, but I didn't have any luck."
"Well, there's a doctor in New Mexico who is doing very good work with gene therapy. We went to med school together. I called her this morning and she said she could try her treatment, but I have to be honest, Logan. It's going to take a lot of time and there's no guarantee that it will work."
Logan sat silent for a moment. "New Mexico. You can't do it here?"
"There's really no way to do that, Logan. You'd have to go to her. She's working with one of the two remaining stem cell lines and there's no way to transport that sort of material with things the way they are now."
"How long are we talking about?"
Sam looked down at his hands, finally raising his eyes to meet Logan's. "Can't say for sure, but I would count on at least six months, probably longer."
"I couldn't bear to lose anyone else," Max whispered into Logan's shoulder.
“I’m not going anywhere...” he reassured her.
Logan sighed. "Six months is like a lifetime right now. With the situation in Terminal City...Max...neither one of us knows what's going to happen there from one day to the next..."
"At least think about it, Logan," Sam replied, reaching out to touch Logan's shoulder.
"Yeah...I'll think about it."
"I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you."
Logan nodded, unable to answer, unable to meet Sam's eyes.
"Is there anything else I can do? Let me at least get you something for the pain. It's going to get worse before it gets better."
Logan nodded, looking up at the doctor. "At least the pain I can feel," he replied, his voice filled with irony.
"Is there anything else?" Sam asked, reaching into his drawer for his prescription pad.
Logan pushed off the table with his hands, continuing to hold on to the table for support as he stood. "It's going to get harder...without the exo, that is, to get around, isn't it?"
Sam nodded. "Do you still have your cane, from last time?"
Logan shook his head. "Left all that stuff behind – the cane, my chair. Thought I was done with it."
Sam stood as well, reaching his right hand to touch Logan's left arm. "Just give me a minute and I'll get one for you."
Logan waited while Sam searched the supply closet down the hall. After a moment, his left leg began to tremble and he moved over to sit on the stool the doctor had vacated.
"Here, this should help," Sam said, returning with the cane and a small bag of prescription samples. "The samples should get you started – and I also wrote out a prescription in case you need more."
Logan greeted the cane with a look of disgust. "I thought these days were over."
"I know, Logan. So, you'll think about it? Call me this week?"
"Yeah," Logan answered. He moved over to where the exoskeleton waited. "Just give me a minute. I need to get this on."
"Sure thing," Sam responded, watching carefully as Logan slid his feet back into the bulky shoes he wore with the exoskeleton.
"Thanks," Logan said as he finished getting dressed.
The doctor watched as Logan walked out of the office. He waited until the young man had gotten down the hall and then returned to his computer, hoping to find a different answer in the test results on the screen.
Outside Dr. Carr’s office
Logan walked out of the hospital, pulling his cap down low to cover as much of his face as possible.
"Hey, I wondered where you snuck off to."
Logan looked up as Alec appeared in front of him. "Alec...what are you doing here? I thought you were going to the church."
Alec smiled. "The Father was busy. I said we'd come back later."
"So, you just happened to be wandering past Metro Medical? You should be fifteen blocks in the other direction..."
"I get around."
"Yeah, right. You followed me," Logan replied and turned to walk away. His left foot missed the curb and Logan began to stumble. Alec moved to grab his left elbow and steady him. Logan pushed Alec's hand away as he righted himself.
"Looks like I'm not the only one with secrets around here," Alec answered, stepping back from Logan. "What's up with the cane? Why don't you want Max to know you came out today?"
Logan moved over to a bench outside the entrance. He sat down, dropping the cane, at his feet.
"Leave Max out of this," Logan said, his voice low and even.
Alec walked over and stood in front of the bench. "I've been in the middle of one of your secrets before and I'd prefer not to relive the experience, if it's all the same to you?"
"It's nothing," Logan replied.
"Well, it's pretty clear that's not the truth," Alec answered as he stood in front of Logan, his arms crossed, closely examining Logan's legs.
"I've been feeling off for a while...pain, a little bit of weakness. It started happening about the time of the virus cure...little things here and there. I figured it would go away as I got stronger."
"And?"
"And it's getting worse. So, I had Aveta take some blood last week and sent it out to my neurologist, Sam Carr. He was able to take a CT scan this morning to get a better idea of what's going on."
"So it's the virus, huh," Alec responded.
"Nope. Funny thing is, virus is gone...but so, it seems, is my miracle cure. Unless the doctors can find another one, sooner or later, I'm going to be right back where I started."
Alec stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Back where?"
"Well, let's just say that I hope the cops didn't cancel my handicapped parking tag when they decided to put me on their most-wanted list."
Without waiting for a response from Alec, Logan stood up and began walking down the street.
END OF ACT I
ACT II
