And All My Dreams, Torn Asunder

by Darkside

2004

 

13. Retrieval Operation

A gray/blue Ford SUV was waiting for them at the airport and during the trip across town Steve outlined the plan once more, "You're to stay in the van with the mission coordinator. When we find something we'll bring it to you for verification. We've some specimen containers in the trunk so as soon as we find it the changeling organ is to be locked inside them. In addition we've a mobile changeling organ test kit. That should help you make sure we've really got the right thing. You should know how to use it, you invented it!

Although this is an FBI resourced operation I'll be overseeing it. Your orders are to stay in the van, and don't even think about poking around on your own."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Friday said innocently.

"I mean it. Heinlein wants you in the van, all the time," Steve warned.

"Understood."

The FBI had already set up camp, surrounding the large research establishment. Steve and Friday got out the car and asked an FBI jacketed agent where Agent Wachoski was. They were directed to a large armor plated van with several dishes and aerials sticking out of the roof. Obviously that was where she was supposed to stay.

Agent Wachoski was a man of medium height and build. His face was a strange mixture of young and old, as his premature gray hair was parted over a thin, narrow face. Friday guessed he was around 38.

Steve introduced them "Agent's Steve Grayson and Naomi Mena."

"Nice to meet you", Agent Wachoski said offering his hand.

Friday shook it firmly, noting how Agent Wachoski's brown eyes gave her the once over.

"What's the status?" Steve asked.

"We've sealed all the exits and issued the search warrant. We're getting the building plans delivered to us now. This place is huge, there's a lot of parts underground and the signage inside is really poor. The place is a real maze," Agent Wachoski commented.

Noting the puzzled look on Steve and Agent Wachoski's faces Friday explained, "It was designed that way. These research places are typically laid out to confuse any would be eco terrorist, animal rights activist or industrial spy that would try and steal or wreck their facilities. The objective could be anywhere, but concentrate on the research labs themselves."

"What is we're supposed to be looking for?" Agent Wachoski asked.

"A small jar no more than 10 inches high, containing biological tissue about the size of a pancreas," Friday explained, gesturing its size with her hands.

"I know what it looks like, just not what it is," Agent Wachoski complained.

"That's on a need to know basis. Bring anything that looks like that to Agent Mena here and she'll verify the contents," Steve interrupted.

Agent Wachoski just nodded, no doubt he'd expected that answer but had asked the question on the off chance.

"NSB, you're in the van. The rest of you are with me," Steve ordered.

It took a few moments for Friday to realize that NSB, aka Nightmare Surfer Babe, was her. She almost said something in retort but thought better of it. Instead she suggested, "Agent Grayson, leave the SUV keys with me in case you need me perform the tests in situ. They may have the item in an isolation lab so you'll need me to get there as soon as possible."

Friday could see Steve thinking hard. He knew she had a point, if the changeling organ were in isolation they would need her there to check it, as it could not be exposed to the outside without a full decon unit to ensure it was safe. That would take hours to set up; then again she was under orders not to leave the van and providing her with a set of car keys was tantamount giving her free rein, "Sure. But you're only to come in if requested by me, "Steve tossed the car keys to Friday which she deftly caught left handed.

"Thanks," She said pocketing the keys in her jacket pocket.

Steve was then escorted to a waiting car by Agent Wachoski leaving Friday alone next to the comms van. She walked over to the van and knocked on the rear doors.

"ID please," A male voice demanded.

She rummaged in her purse, pulled out her Naomi Mena ID and showed to the obvious camera lens in the door of the Van. There was a click and the door swung open to reveal a high tech interior. Along each side of the van was a bank of flat screen monitors and computer hardware. Sitting down on a plastic swivel chair was an overweight, black haired man who was just starting to tuck into a donut. "Hi," he put the donut on the table and swiveled round to greet her, "Agent Tommy Harding," he said offering his sugar coated hand to her, "sorry," he said quickly wiping his hands on his jacket.

"Agent Mena. Looks like you're stuck with me for a while," Friday said, trying her best not to show her annoyance at this slobbish character.

"Come in, and make sure the door is secure," Agent Harding offered and produced another swivel chair for her to sit on.

Reluctantly she stepped inside the van and closed the door. It automatically locked shut, thus securing the vehicle.

"From here we can here and see exactly what's going on. These sets of monitors here show the team that's searching the west side," He pointed to the set of screens on the desk Friday was sitting at, "These monitor the East team. Digital recorders ensure nothing is missed in case we need to analyze it later. Each team member has a lapel camera or earpiece which feeds audio and video over an encrypted link which has a range of around 10 miles," Agent Harding said. Clearly he was proud of the capabilities of his domain.

"Can I listen in?" Friday asked.

"Sure, what team?"

Steve would be in the East Team, "East team, can you put it on screen too?"

"Of course," Agent Harding replied and pulled up a window on his system. A couple of clicks later Friday could see the East team just passing through the main gate. Steve had left four agents by the gate to ensure nobody slipped out while they were inside. "Agent Grayson, teams all in place," he heard Agent Wachoski's voice from the speakers to her left.

"Confirmed, "East team we'll work outside in. I want someone left behind at every major junction. West team proceed with sweep of the outbuildings near the rear fence and work in from there. Report in every 15 minutes."

"West Team confirmed," another voice said.

"East team confirmed. Let's go folks." she heard Steve reply.

The first area Steve Searched was the parking lot. Steve left two agents behind to secure the parking lot area before moving into what looked to be a general administration area. Ten minutes later she heard him say "Block 51-a clear, proceeding to block 52."

"West team, outbuildings clear. Just a bunch of janitor stuff, proceeding to Block 2-b."

"Does it always get this boring?" Friday asked after a few minutes of watching the screens.

Agent Harding nodded, "Pretty much. I wanted to put Unreal Tournament on one of the systems but I got turned down, could you believe it? Donut?" He passed a tray of oversweet looking donuts to Friday.

"No thanks. I'll pass," Friday did her best to turn him down. Had he any idea of what those things did to you?

"Do you think they'll find it?" Agent Harding asked.

Friday gestured towards the monitor, "They're sure being thorough.

If it's in there they'll find it."

"What is it we're after again? He asked hopefully.

"Some biological material that was stolen from a government installation a few months ago," That was as much detail as she wanted to give.

"I see. I'm just checking their progress. They've done about 3% of the searches. Reckon on another 10 hours before they've done."

It was at this point that Friday decided that she would kill Heinlein with her bare hands.

--- oo ---

Four hours of interminable geekish one sided conversation later Friday was ready to murder anyone. So far she'd learned that Deep Space 9 was by far the best Star Trek, and that Voyager wasn't worthy of the name. In addition she'd been told that Agent Harding Gave Buffy another 2 more series before it was cancelled, and that Jar Jar Binks was an abomination to film lovers everywhere.

"I'm serious," Agent Harding was saying, "An Imperial Star Destroyer would kick the Enterprise D's ass. Even the Sovereign class Enterprise E would lose badly and that has Quantum torpedoes. Saying that, a Borg Cube would.. "

Suddenly the sounds of automatic weapons filled the interior and all simultaneously the East Team's monitors went black, "what the hell?" Friday swore.

"Agent Grayson to Gate Team, suspect is trying to escape in a red Buick Sedan. I count Three, no four shoo," The transmission was cut off by further sounds of gunfire.

"Fuck it. Fuck it, Fuck it!" She couldn't leave Steve stranded in the middle of a gunfight. Fuck orders! , "Agent Harding, give me a one of those spare comms sets and call for the paramedics and backup. I'm going to help!"

Friday's tone was such that Agent Harding obeyed immediately, passing her a miniature earpiece. Inserting it into her right ear she said "Check, Testing 1-2-3."

She heard her voice come from the speakers, "Right open the door!"

She ordered.

Agent Harding pressed a button on the side of the door and it swung open. She sprinted towards the SUV she and Steve had driven to site it and with a screech of wheels shot off towards the main gate.

As she was driving to the main gate, a red Buick raced passed on the other side of the road. She flung the car into a J turn, feeling the SUV lean over and the protests from its suspension. She'd leave the paramedics to deal with the casualties. "Agent Mena here, spotted red Buick heading north and am in pursuit," She floored the accelerator and shot off in chase.

She got to within a 100 yards of the Buick when two heads appeared each side of the car, followed by two automatic weapons. The first volley shattered the windscreen spraying her with broken glass. "Screw this," she said out loud and weaved to avoid another burst aimed at her tires. She continued to weave and dodge as the gunmen tried in vain to shoot her tires and radiator out.

Now doing over a 100 miles and hour she was rapidly closing on the Buick, when it suddenly braked hard as she overtook it.

She felt bullet slam into her legs as the side of the SUV was strafed by the gunmen in the car. Luckily none of them had broken a bone, so the damage was quickly healed. The Buick had now sped up and was gathering speed. If she didn't act soon she'd lose them once they overtook again. It was about to overtake her and no doubt subject her to another wilting volley of machine gun fire. This time they might get a lucky shot in and she daren't take her eyes off the road to instigate a change to add any body armor.

She glanced in her wing mirror, they'd overtake any moment. She'd have to time this just right. Setting the cruise control she readied herself to open the door as soon as the Buick came past. In the mirror she saw the gunmen preparing to fire as the car drew closer, with any luck they'd shoot at an empty car. Three, Two one, NOW. In one smooth movement she opened the door and timed the leap to perfection.

She landed on the Roof of the Buick and clung on with her left hand to the side of the car. The clunk of her landing was greeted by immediate gun fire aimed through the roof. She felt two bullets hit her full on in the chest and she stopped the internal bleeding right away, there was no time for anything else!

The Buick was now weaving and braking in an effort to throw her off, and it was taking all her effort to resist being buffeted off the car by the wind. She needed to act fast. With the last of her available concentration she formed a poisoned tipped, sharp bony blade with her right hand and with all her strength punched it thru the roof of the car into the passenger compartment. She felt her blade hand punch thru bone and heard a stifled cry above the roar of the wind and dodged as more bullets were fired at her from the other side. She saw a head appear from the other side window and then a pistol. In one precise movement she pivoted round and kicked the gun from the guy's hand.

Now knowing where the guy was she stabbed her blade hand thru the roof once more and felt the blade slice thru flesh and bone. Reforming a hand once more she slid down the roof, punched a whole thru the rear window with her fist and dived in.

Both gunmen in the back were dead, which left only the ones up front. The one in the passenger seat was the first to react and he turned to face her around, pistol in hand. It was Michael Alexander! Dammit! she needed him alive.

With a single downward, slashing blow she smashed her hand down in a chopping motion, feeling his arm splinter in a compound fracture as she did so. The pistol went clattering to the footwell. Michael screamed in agony clutching his arm, already the bone was showing thru the skin.

Friday retrieved the gun and pointed it at the drivers head, "Stop the car, throw the keys out of the window and keep your hands on the wheel!"

With no choice the driver stopped the car and complied.

Still training the gun on the driver, Friday picked the keys up and ordered the survivors out of the car.

"Who, what the fuck are you?" Michael stammered, still clutching his shattered arm. The skin around the fracture was bruising, showing that the bone was digging into the tissue.

"Your worst nightmare!" Friday replied in a menacing tone.

"You. Where were you going?" She pointed the gun at the driver.

"Fuck off!" The driver swore.

"One last chance. Where were you going and what are you carrying?" Friday hissed.

"No way!" The driver spat.

Friday aimed the gun at the drivers knee cap and fired.

With a scream of pain the driver collapsed clutching his splintered knee, "Now if you want to walk without a limp I suggest you tell me!" Friday demanded.

"We, we were going to meet up with a contact," Michael stammered.

The driver, shot Michael look that said "Traitor!"

"Who were you going to meet?" Friday demanded.

"Go to hell, bitch!" The driver swore thru gritted teeth.

"Look, I'm going to get the information one way or the other. The best way is for you to tell me. The worst way involves me slowly putting bullets into your arms and legs until you can't move anymore."

"Fuck off!"

Casually Friday shot the driver's other kneecap," Right elbow next, who and where?"

"Ok, We're going to meet Darryl Scheider in the Nu-Wave record store off Madison Street, Seattle in just over an hour," The driver was in obvious pain.

"What were you going to give him?" Friday had a good idea of what it was they where carrying.

"He knows," the driver shot a glance at Michael.

Friday considered what to do next. Both the driver and Michael Alexander had seen her in action. By rights she should kill them, but maybe there was another way.

"You, driver lay on the floor," She demanded.

Still in agony the driver obeyed.

"You," she pointed the gun at Michael, open the trunk.

Michael walked to the car and trigged the trunk release.

"Now on the floor next to you friend!" She demanded.

Michael complied but he was in obvious pain as he tried to put weight on his shattered arm.

As she suspected wrapped in foam was a glass container, she carefully lifted up to view the contents. Floating in its preservative was the unmistakable shape of the missing changeling organ.

Out of sight of her two prisoners she grew an injection needle from her left knuckle. In it she created a hallucinogenic drug combined with a sedative. It would make them think they'd imagined her inhuman abilities and so preserve her cover. It was a far more preferable option than killing them.

"Face down, both of you," She ordered and quickly one after the other injected them with the sedative. She waited for the effects to take hold and then said out loud, "Agent Mena to Agent Harding. Do you copy?"

"Sure, what the hell was going on out there? What's your status?"

"I'm unharmed and have recovered the item. How's everyone there?" she asked, hoping to God that Steve was OK.

"Hi NSB, I'm ok, albeit having the mother of all headaches from being hit on the head. We lost 4 agents with 2 wounded," Steve voice came thru the earpiece.

Friday breathed a sigh of relief, "Steve thank God, I've apprehended the gunmen. We're about 8 miles north from you. We've two dead and two requiring medical attention, one with compound fractures to the right arm, the other with broken kneecaps. Steve We need to talk privately can you get Agent Harding to take this off speaker?"

There was a pause, "Steve here, We're clear, except for the recording devices."

"Steve, Can you run a check on a Darryl Scheider? That's who they were going to give the item to. They were due to meet him at Nu-Chart records off Madison street Seattle. Thing is we've only got 55 minutes to get there so there's no time to lose or put someone else in. I'm going there to do the swap. With any luck we'll be able to trace this back to source. The real item will be in the trunk of the SUV."

"So much for just staying in the van! Ok, be careful, we'll be there as soon as we can. We'll send for a chopper to back you up," Steve's voiced sounded a little concerned.

She walked over to the car and investigated the two dead occupants in the passenger seat. The one on the right's head was nearly split in two from her blade hand, and the other had a large gash in the shoulder. The poison in her blade has obviously killed him. She got out and rounded the other side of the car, opened the passenger door and pulled the other gunmen's dead body from the car. She needed the poisoned one intact for the moment so she left him inside the car.

Walking over to the unconscious Michael Alexander she stripped his clothes off and placed them on the passenger seat of the car. She then grew a small hollow spine from her wrist and plunged it into his neck. She'd need his DNA sample for later. Michael didn't even twitch, they would be unconscious for hours and even then the hallucinogenic would ensure they stayed incoherent for longer. She started the engine of the car and drove off to find the SUV.

It didn't take her long to find what left of it. It had driven on it's own for about a quarter mile before wandering off the road and smashing into a tree at considerable speed. The front of the SUV was mashed almost in two by the force of the impact, but as she'd hoped the rear of the SUV had suffered a lot less damage.

Forcing open the trunk took all of her strength, so twisted was the chassis, but a minute later or so she was inside. Lifting out the box containing the specimen containers and changeling test she gingerly opened the catch. The metal construction and foam padding had protected it from the impact of the crash and they were all intact.

She ran back to the Buick and retrieved the changeling organ from the trunk and sprinted back to the SUV. She poured a small amount of the changeling test's liquid into a spare specimen jar and placed it down in the trunk.

Twisting the Changeling organ's container open she tore a tiny section off it as she held out of the jar. Its wet slimy texture told her that it was in good condition and hadn't decayed that much. For sure it could have been put to use had it fallen into the wrong hands.

With her other hand she picked up the changeling test and dropped the section she'd ripped off into the jar. Immediately the liquid went green, indicating a positive result. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was, as she thought the real deal.

Screwing up the containers again, she put the changeling organ safely into a spare slot in the specimen container and pulled out another empty jar. Now to create a dummy one.

Opening the rear passenger door she pulled the dead gunman from the car and laid him flat out on the ground, his dead eyes facing upwards. As quickly as she could she ripped the gunman's shirt open revealing a gorilla like hairy chest. She concentrated and turned right index finger into a razor sharp boney scalpel. In one practiced movement she sliced the gunman's body open, ignoring the extensive blood flow that oozed out of the wound.

With her left hand she pulled the gunman's flesh open and carefully slicing layer after layer of flesh apart located his pancreas. The man's body was still warm and the blood hadn't had time to settle. She took hold of the pancreas with her left hand. A quick incision with her scalpel sharp index finger blade allowed her to pull the pancreas easily away from the chest. She gave it a gentle squeeze, ignoring the warm fleshy texture of it as the blood trickled out of it and dripped all over the grass. She needed it as empty of the Gunman's blood as possible.

Still holding it in her left hand, she turned her little finger into a small hollow needle and plunged it into her left arm. Feeling the needle fill with her blood she waited until she was she sure it was full. The final step was to inject her blood into the pancreas. Some of it spurted out all over her arm, but by now she was so covered in blood and gore it hardly mattered. The final stage was to put the pancreas into a specimen jar, fill it with preservative and place it back in the trunk of the Buick. Her blood she'd injected into the pancreas would show positive for a changeling organ, so if anyone did a test on it they'd think they had the real thing.

Now to clean up, turning the boney scalpel and needle back into fingers she walked to the SUV and looked to see if any water remained in the cooling system.

Although the radiator was shattered there were still a few pints of water left in the plastic reservoir and in the screen wash bottle. She ripped them from the remains of the engine bay and used the still hot water to wash off the blood covering her arms and hands.

She checked her watch, only forty five minutes to go. She'd need to hurry. She walked behind the Buick and quickly stripped off her clothes. Concentrating hard she felt her flesh grow and reform as she took on Michael's features and body. Quickly retrieving his clothes from the passenger seat, she put them on, placing her own clothes in the trunk of the SUV and then placed the earpiece back in her ear. She'd take it out at the last moment.

Now looking exactly like Michael Alexander she got into the Buick and drove off back into town. She had exactly forty two minutes.

--- oo ---

She had been driving for thirty two minutes when her earpiece crackled into life. "NSB, you there?" It was Steve, and by the sound of it he was in a helicopter.

Friday quickly adjusted her vocal chords to sound like her Naomi Mena Persona. No doubt she was still being recorded and it would raise all kinds of questions if she replied in a male voice.

"NSB, you copy?" Steve called again.

"Cut the NSB crap. Yeah I'm fine. The item is in the trunk of the SUV, and it's tested positive. It's the real deal," Friday said out loud.

"That's great news. What's your status?" Steve asked, the relief obvious in his voice.

"I'm about ten minutes away from Nu-Chart, if I can find the correct turn that is. Did you find anything out about Darryl Scheider?" She needed as much info as she could before she went in.

"A little, from our records it seems like he's a hired gun. Selling his services to anyone that will pay, Guild, Hamas, La Cosa Nostra, Russian Mafia, anyone. It's our guess he was the guy who was going to secure the item for Alexi Ivanov and smuggle it out of the country. If possible find the route he was going to use. We'll then have the whole chain," Steve explained.

"My thoughts exactly. I take it you want Daryl alive?" Friday queried.

"Affirmative., Anything else to report?" Steve asked.

"I'm afraid I've left behind my usual mess near the SUV. Make sure you get my things from the trunk. I'll need them when I get back," She could just imagine the faces of the FBI agents when they came across the bloodied slaughter she'd just created.

From the corner of her eye she saw a blight blue sign reading Nu-Chart as she drove passed it, "Steve I'm here already. I need to go. What's your ETA?"

"Ten minutes, we've another chopper coming in twelve. We'll hover just out of earshot until you call. Good luck," the earpiece went dead as Steve signed off. Taking her earpiece out, she switched it off and stuffed it in her pocket. The last bit of preparation she needed to do was turn her voice back into that of Michael Alexander.

She did a U-turn at the next junction, much to the protests of the other drivers and headed back to Nu-Chart. As she turned into Nu-Chart's parking lot she was sure she saw a face looking at her from the window of the store. She checked her watch, she had one minute to spare.

Casually she got out of the car and retrieved the fake changeling organ from the trunk. She was now certain she was being observed. Even though the sign on the front door said 'closed', she was in no doubt Daryl would be waiting for her round the back. She worked her away round the side of the store until she came to a set of wooden double doors in a back street. Pretending to tie her shoe laces, she hid the earpiece under a crumpled up coke can she'd spotted. After making sure the earpiece was well hidden she gave the doors three loud knocks and waited for a reply.

A small hatch scraped open in one of the doors, Friday could see a set of brown eyes look around till they focused on her, "You got it?"

Friday nodded and held the container up, "Yeah. Look, let me in, we have a problem."

There was an unlocking sound from the door, and it slid open revealing what looked to be the stockroom of the store, quite large and lined with shelves. The owner of the brown eyes, a small, rat like looking man looked at her with some suspicion.

"Thanks," Friday nodded and walked inside. The man slid the door shut once more and escorted her towards the front of the store.

Her sharp eyes and senses counted seven men hidden behind the shelves of stock, with two more near the door. The glint of a weapon, someone's eyes, a protruding foot or the even a reflection of a face on a CD case gave the game away. In an open plan area she'd stand a chance, here she was like a rat in trap. The room was dimly lit too, lit only by a single exposed neon tube.

"Michael, It's so good to see you again." A voice of east European descent boomed out from somewhere in the gloom.

"Daryl?" Friday guessed.

"Do you have the item?" The voice asked.

Her face showing sorrow and confusion Friday said, "Yes, but there was a problem. The police were searching the labs, so we had to escape. The others stayed behind to fight the police and made sure I got away. I don't know if they made it or not."

"We knew there had been a problem, your car is a wreck. We will worry about the others later. Give me the item," the voice demanded.

"Not until I'm paid," Friday guessed there had been some kind of financial arrangement made.

"We need to make sure that it's genuine. For that there has to be trust, no?" the voice had no threat to it, it was just business.

"Ok, come into the light where I can see you," Friday asked.

"Of course. Put the container on the table over there. Sasha over there will test the item to see if it's genuine."

Friday obeyed and put the container with the faked changeling organ inside. on the table.

A medium height, but well built man in a blue suit stepped out from her left. This must be Sasha.

"Open your shirt, we will check you to see if you are wired," Sasha demanded. To her right she noticed a silenced pistol being pointed at her. Still acting the nervous scientist she complied and undid her shirt.

Sasha patted her down and grunted, "He's clear. Now Mr. Alexander, please move away from the table"

Sasha's voice, although polite carried a menace that Friday hadn't picked up on before. Clearly tension and events were escalating. She stepped back from the table and did up her shirt, it would help disguise the armor she was about to grow under her skin.

Sasha reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small vial of yellow liquid and some surgical scissors, he then undid the container and with a single snip had cut a tiny section off the faked changeling organ and dropped it inside the vial.

The liquid stayed clear for what seemed like an eternity before gradually changing green. Friday couldn't help but breathe out in relief, sometimes attention to detail and belt and braces paid off.

"Thank you Michael, now for your payment in full," the voice said calmly.

From the other side of the room she heard a 'click' and instinctively dived to one side, fractions of a second later bullets whistled over her head.

Before the gunmen could take aim Friday leapt behind a long set of shelves, stacked with loose CD's. She glanced across to the table and saw that the table was empty.

She felt a bullet impact in her back, and immediately sealed the wound. She was surrounded!

She'd need more than blade hands to get out of this one. Suddenly an idea hit her as sure as the bullet just had. She picked up several CD cases and performed a graceful jump into the air, at the last second she threw the CD cases at the single neon tube, shattering it and plunging the room into darkness.

She heard a man to her right try and flick a switch and swear "Fuck!" as it failed to work. She dived under a shelf and adjusted her eyes to see in ultraviolet, and for good measure she felt small pits grow under her eyes. These would act like those of a rattlesnake, allowing her to see the heat signature of the men she was fighting. The last thing she did was ensure that she had protected her head from gunfire. She was about to move out from under the shelf when she saw the purple-red outline of a man walk past her.

"He must still be in here. The doors still shut!" one commented to her front right.

'Now for offensive weaponry' she thought as her fingers melded together forming their now customary cutting blades, except with one variation. The ones she grew now were slender rapier looking blades, all the better for silent killing. From her elbows she grew a serrated cutting edge, and the final thing she did was take her shoes and socks off, so she would make less noise.

By now the men in the room had found their flashlights and were strobing the room searching for her. Time to move.

Silently she stood up and thru her purple, heat signature enhanced vision scanned the room. Two men had taken up positions near the door, two more were in the rear corner of the room and the final two were in the middle. Obviously, Sasha and the elusive Darryl had run, leaving their henchmen to do their work.

She deliberately kicked a nearby stack of CD's over, and they clattered to the ground. Instantly a torch was shone in that area from the man closest to her. Within a matter of moments she had pounced, had punched her rapier like blade into the man's heart. He went down without a sound, as did the torch its light tumbling in all directions.

Moments, later gunfire raked the wall where she'd just killed the man. The falling torch had told them something was wrong.

"Mika? You ok?" A voice at the end of the stock room called.

Friday saw the man's heat signature move slightly. In the dark he'd left a blind spot to his right. As quietly as she could she crept up behind the man and with a single slashing movement of her elbow nearly severed the man's head from its body.

"Fuck this I'm out of here!" A man near the door said. Friday saw the red outline of the man turn to leave, but was stopped by his comrade.

Suddenly she was dazzled by the torchlight and instinctively ducked as the bullets ricocheted over her head. She wouldn't be as careless again.

"Shit! Did you see that?" One man swore.

Through her infra red vision she saw the remaining gunmen formed up at the door end of the room and spread out in a line. Clearly they were going to sweep the room from one end to the other, Damn.

She slid under another shelf and glanced around the room, still in darkness in ordinary light, but clearly visible in ultra violet. She then noticed above her head, a heating pipe of some description. As stealthily as she could, she crept out from under the shelf and adjusted her leg muscles to make the jump. She did so and using her rapier like blades to loop around the pipe, ignoring the cuts they were making in her chest as the razor sharp points dug in. She then looped her legs over the pipe and awaited for the men to walk past her.

She saw the torch beams sweep over the floor beneath her, "Nothing yet!" she heard a voice, the terror it's owner felt was easily heard. It would be only a matter of moments now. She readied herself as the red shapes walked past her position, seconds later she let go of the pipe and silently dropped to the floor.

She span around and in one smooth movement rammed her slender blade thru the back of the man's skull, feeling the warmth of his brain as the tip sliced thru the bridge of his nose, still moving she slashed her knife edged elbow down his neighbors back, feeling her serrated blade bite into his spinal cord. Both men screamed in pain and fell to the floor as she withdrew her rapier blade from the first man's head.

The two men next to them whirled around, torches in hand and guns at the ready, but he need'nt have bothered, as Friday dropped to one knee and thrust both blades upwards into the man's necks and out of the back of their heads.

She let the two men twist and squirm, still impaled on her blade arms, until she was sure they were dead. With a 'snick' she withdrew them from the men's heads and turned her attention to the guards at the door.

Abandoning stealth, she changed her whole forearms into large scissor like blades and ran full sprint towards the door, in an exact mirror of her actions in Russia she opened and closed her arms in a slashing scissor motion. She knew before she'd seen the results that the men's heads had been cleanly sliced from their bodies.

Emergency over, she ran to the back door. She had to tell Steve that Daryl and Sasha had got away.

--- oo ---

Friday retrieved the earpiece from its hiding place, activated it and placed it in her ear. The last thing she did was adjust her voice once more to that of Agent Naomi Mena, "Steve you copy?"

"We're here! Status?"

Friday explained, "They took the bait, but Daryl and his sidekick got away. Did you see anything?"

"We saw a Blue Taurus drive out of here about 3 minutes ago. It's being tailed by the other chopper, and we've alerted Seattle PD. We stayed put to make sure you were ok, "Steve's voice crackled in Friday's earpiece. Obviously her battery was getting low.

"I'm ok down here. We've got six fatalities, usual injuries. The battery in my earpiece is running low. What do you want me to do?"

"Make your way to the roof, we'll hover on there and pick you up.

Steve out."

Friday went back inside the store, casually stepping over the decapitated remains of two of the gunmen. She quickly searched the still dark stock room and found her shoes and socks, just where she'd left them.

She'd need to find a set of stairs upwards somewhere. Since she hadn't noticed any steps in the stock room they must be further towards the front of the store. The door to from the stockroom to the rest of the shop was unlocked, and it opened with a 'click'. She was in a corridor, lined with lockers for the staff and she noticed that to her left was a bathroom, obviously for use of customers. She took the opportunity to duck in and wash the evidence of the fight from her arms and hands.

Ideally she would need to ditch Michael Alexander's body and go back to being Agent Naomi Mena once more. Maybe the lockers contained something she could use.

One by one she twisted the padlocks off the lockers and opened them. They contained the usual, books, CD's and walkmans. Jackpot! The last one contained a spare uniform for one of the female staff. She pulled it out of the locker and surveyed it. A short black miniskirt with a nu-chart logo'd halter top. The owner had also left a pair of black small heeled shoes that were obviously part of the uniform.

Friday quickly stripped off her Michael Alexander clothes and concentrated. She felt her flesh reform and reshape into that of the body of Naomi Mena. "That's better' she said out loud and started to get into the clothes she'd just found.

She had to make several adjustments to Naomi's body shape in order to get the clothes to fit properly. The Mini skirt was much too small for Naomi's hips so she had to shrink her hips in order for it to fit properly. She also needed to adjust the size of her feet and after slipping on the shoes she collected Michael Alexander's clothes from the floor and walked into the main area of the store. She quickly located a couple of large plastic bags and stuffed the spare clothes in there. It would cause all sorts of problems to have them left here. Finally she located a set of stairs leading to the second floor of the store and she sprinted up them.

It took her a few moments to locate the door to the fire escape and with a hefty shove the door flung open. She could hear Steve's helicopter hovering just above her, so she started to climb up the fire escape to the roof.

A few moments later she was on the roof, running towards the waiting helicopter. Steve was in the passenger seat, waving his arms for her to run.

Stepping up into the chopper was more difficult than expected, largely due to the shortness of her skirt and the fact she had no lingerie on. Steve's comment of "Nice view!" earned him a promise of brutal castration at some point in the future.

As Friday started to buckle herself in, Steve started to give an update, "We're still pursuing the car both in the air and by local PD. Once we've picked you up we're going to reinforce the effort. Nice outfit by the way!"

Friday complained. "It was either this or blow my cover. Enjoy it while you can. All done. Let's go," she finished strapping herself in.

Steve gave a signal and the helicopter started to lift off and headed off, into downtown Seattle.

"What happened in the music store?" Steve asked, as the chopper banked heavily to avoid a power pylon.

"Daryl and his buddy were there, with around 6 others. Before I left for the rendezvous I made a fake changeling organ using one of the guys pancreas's and some of my own blood," Friday started to explain.

"So that's why one of the guys we found chest was ripped open.

Continue," Steve replied.

"They had a changeling test, FK how they got hold of one. But anyway, they tested the fake one I'd made. They then double cr.."

Friday was interrupted by Steve swearing, "Fuck!"

"What's up?" she asked earnestly.

Steve pushed the mike down from his headset so he could speak more clearly, "Daryl and his buddy decided to run from the car. They were followed on foot, but they've just gone and hijacked a bus full of kids!"

"Shit! Now what?"

Steve shrugged, "We continue. No doubt they'll try and demand a safe passage, using the kids as hostages. The question for the police and feds is do they let them?"

Friday thought for a moment, "I think we should. They'll ask for an aircraft for sure. Put me on board and hopefully they'll lead us back to Alexi's gang. We'll then have wiped out the whole network."

"It's an option. Let's see what they want first," Steve replied.

Within a matter of minutes Friday saw the other helicopter circling around a yellow school bus. Leaning slightly out of the passenger seat of the other chopper, a sniper was ready should an opportunity presented itself. The police had formed a rolling blockade, ensuring that the bus couldn't get away, or the kidnappers didn't have an opportunity to run.

They followed the bus at a height of around 500 feet for a full five minutes when Steve gestured with his hand as if to say 'we're getting something' He nodded his head a few times before answering "Confirmed. We'll get back to you."

"What?" Friday demanded. She hated feeling left out.

"As you thought, they want an aircraft. They're going to put all the kids on board and fly it to Russia. They'll land, get away and then let the kids go," Steve explained.

"Yeah right. I'd land and blow the plane up, to divert attention from us getting away. If the kids get on that plane then they are as good as dead. If we take Daryl down before he reaches Russia then we'll never get all the gang and will have zero idea what they wanted the changeling organ for," Hobson's choice. Allow innocents to die, or save them and lose track of a potentially greater danger.

From his face Friday saw that Steve had been thinking the same thing, "I'm open to ideas about now?" He replied.

"I assume Daryl won't let people know their destination until they are nearly there?" Friday asked.

Steve nodded, "Yeah. You onto something?"

Friday nodded, "I think so. Do you think they'll agree to let a hostess on board to help placate the kids and ensure their welfare. It's a long flight and they won't want the job themselves. Once we know the destination airport I can then take Daryl down and take it from there."

"It's about the only option we've got. I can ask the question. First of all I need to clear the idea with Heinlein," Steve paused for a few seconds and asked the question into his headset.

"So, what else do they say?" Friday asked.

"Not much, they're heading towards the airport. We've told them it'll take an hour to prep a plane. We're to go on ahead and land and wait for further instructions."

The chopper banked away from the pursuit and flew ahead to the airport. A whole runway area had been cleared for them to use and Friday saw a TWA 747 being fuelled and checked. She pointed it out to Steve who nodded, "Yeah that looks like it."

Friday was about to add another observation when Steve waved her to be quiet, "aha, understood. I'll pass it on."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Change of plan. You're not going with them. We're to capture Daryl and bring him in. As for his buddy we're going to take him out as soon as we get a clear shot. If we let them take off we're seen to be negotiating with terrorists, and that will raise the white flag to groups from Columbia to Japan," Steve explained.

"But what about the risk to the kids?" typical! Didn't they trust her to do the right thing?

"It'll be ok. We're positioning snipers to wound Daryl and his buddy. As soon as they step out of the bus they'll take em down. Heinlein is talking to the Russians so that as soon as we know who and where they are they can go in and get them.

"It's still a hell of a risk. What do they want me to do?" Friday asked.

She hoped to god that they knew what they were doing.

"Stay close to me, and get ready to intervene if required. It's too public a place to do any changeling stuff, but you can still move quicker than anyone. See, the news crews are gathering already," Steve pointed at an NBC Chopper closing in on where they were hovering.

"Didn't take them long. No doubt they'll get chased away soon enough," Friday felt the chopper start to descend, "I guess we'll get a ring side seat," she commented.

Steve didn't reply, he was on the headset listening.

It took a few moments for the helicopter to bump gently down on the airport tarmac. They'd landed a couple of hundred yards away from the waiting 747, "Ladies first!" Steve gestured for Friday to get out first.

Carefully Friday stepped out of the helicopter and instinctively ducked down as the downdraft buffeted her from all directions. Within a matter of moments, Steve was along side her and the chopper had lifted off, "They'll be here in 5 minutes," Steve shouted over the noise of the helicopter's engines.

Friday spotted a luggage truck, near to the steps of the 747, "There looks like a good place to watch."

Steve nodded, "As long as we're not armed they'll be ok. They'll expect us to keep an eye on them."

Friday could just about hear the sirens of the escorting police cars, "Time to get in position, come on," she jogged to the luggage truck and stood behind it.

A few seconds later Steve caught up. Friday noted with some satisfaction that she'd left him easily behind. At full speed she estimated that she could top 60mph, for her that was just small jog. Friday spotted movement on a hanger roof about 200 yards away. The sniper was getting ready, she just hoped Heinlein knew what he was doing. Within a few seconds the sniper had become invisible, with not even the glint of the sight to give his position away. There must be a second sniper in other spot as the takedown would have to happen simultaneously.

She was glad she'd played the insurance card now. It would be too easy for Heinlein to order her to be killed in a similar manner, an accidental friendly fire incident in a confused shoot out. Even so she still decided to take the precaution of thickening her skull to protect against a ricocheted bullet. There was no invisible defense against direct headshot from a heavy caliber weapon such as the rifles the sharpshooters carried. She would need to grow a significant amount of armor to protect against that, which would necessitate the complete dehumanizing of her head. Even then it would touch and go as to its effectiveness.

By now the sirens had grown much louder and the police cars fanned out and encircled the 747. The school bus at the centre of the swarm of cops stopped just behind the steps leading up to the waiting airliner. Subconsciously Friday glanced up to where the sniper was waiting. They would have the perfect shot for when Daryl and Sasha walked up the steps. From her position, in front of the steps they would pass no more than 50 yards away.

A small girl, with strawberry blonde hair was the first to emerge from the bus. Friday's heart sank as she saw that Daryl had tied a fragmentation grenade around her neck, a long piece of string was tied at one end to the pin, and the other around the waist of a boy, no more than 7 years old. Their faces were streaked with tears, and a look of dread in their eyes. Another two boys walked out, this time tied to the boy on front.

What Daryl had done was becoming obvious. He'd tied all the kids together so that if one ran, the grenade would go off killing them all. Next out walked Sasha, the man who'd inspected the fake changeling organ for her. Tied to the end of his wrist was the end of the piece of string, no doubt if he fell it would tug on the string hard enough to remove the pin.

Friday now realized with horror that what they were planning to do, would cause the kids to be put in am almost certain lethal situation, "Steve. We've got to call it off!" She tugged Steve's sleeve in desperation.

"Wait!" Steve ordered.

"Steve, stop being paralyzed like a deer in a headlight! Fucking order the snipers to back down!" Friday urged. Couldn't Steve see what she had? Couldn't he see what was going to happen next!

"Friday, we have our orders. We'll do it as we're told!" Steve tried to placate Friday.

"Screw orders! Those kids will die!" Friday swore.

"As I thought, here come some more," Steve commented and nodded towards the bus.

Another girl, this time with dark hair and a petite blue dress walked out, sobbing gently to herself. Around her neck was another fragmentation grenade, the string was looped back thru her sleeve and onto another boy who was trying to be brave. Two more small boys emerged, the similarity of their faces indicated they were twins. The long string had been passed thru their belt straps on their pants, and the other end was tied to the right wrist of a tall well built man wearing a blue suit. This Friday deduced must be Daryl. On his right wrist there was another length of string leading into the bus. Fuck, he must have wired more kids!

Friday gave Steve a sharp dig in the ribs, "Steve!" she hissed.

"Hold your position Lieutenant!" Steve replied sharply, using her Air Force rank to emphasize what he was ordering her to do.

Friday fell silent, quietly fuming. Did they want those kids to die? Would it allow them to make some obscure political point? An idea formed, a stupid, desperate ideal but it was the only one that had any chance of working.

Three more children walked out of the bus, again the string had been looped thru various holes in their clothes. More came out, until nearly forty kids were huddled around Daryl and Sasha. The last to emerge was the bus driver, he had two more fragmentation grenades tied around his neck, which the far end of the string had been finally tied to. Daryl called something out, but the whimpers and cries of the kids drowned it out. His accented voice shouted, "SHUT UP," and the kids fell silent. Some of them started to cry once more.

"We will board the plane now. Any tricks and we pull," Daryl gestured gently towards the string.

"Steve we can't let this happen!" Friday tugged Steve's shirt sleeve once more.

"We can and we will. Those kids are dead either way. If we let Daryl and his buddy escape, how many more will they kill? Sometimes you need to make the tough call, for the greater good."

"Fuck that! I've an idea!" Friday snapped. Fuck the lot of them, she didn't care anymore!

"Friday, stay here!" Steve ordered.

"Screw you!" Friday snarled and sprang into action, and sprinted towards Daryl and the hostages.

Friday was a third of the way to them when Daryl noticed her, she saw him yank both arms and as if in slow motion the pins to the grenades came off. In the corner of her eye she saw Sasha do the same.

As fast as she could manage she leapt at the bus driver and the kids and with all her strength tore the grenade necklaces from their necks as she ran past. She threw the grenades away from her and the children and moments later there were four large explosions and it all went black.

 

14. Shrapnel

The first voice Friday heard was Steve's "I just saw her move."

The next was that of a woman, "I just saw an eye flicker too. The ECG and monitors show increased heartbeat levels and brain activity."

"Tough 'hell bitch' isn't she," Steve commented.

"Yeah, she always was," The woman replied.

"You knew her before?" Steve's voice asked.

"We were at med school together. Wait, I think she's waking up."

It took all of Friday's remaining strength to open her eyes. She felt weak, tired and exhausted and she hurt everywhere. She could make out two blurred shapes at the foot of what must be her bed, "Steve?" She managed to gasp.

"Yeah it's me. You gave us quite a scare," Steve said soothingly.

The blur focused a little more. She could make out the shape of the woman. Her vision started to clear. She was in a hospital ward, how had she got here? Steve's face came into focus. She glanced across to the woman, "Hi Beverley, You just can't stay away can you," The end of the sentence was masked by a series of coughs.

"That's Dr Beverley Adams to you," Dr Adams corrected.

Friday tried to sit up, but failed. She was still too weak.

"Here let me," Steve said softly and cranked the head section of the bed up a few inches.

"Thanks. Can I have some water?" Friday rasped. Her throat was parched.

"Sure, don't forget to sip," Dr Adams said, and passed Friday a glass of water.

It was a massive struggle to even lift the glass to her lips, but she managed to take a few sips, "Better!"

"How'd you feel?" Steve asked?

"I've had better days. What..," Friday started to say but her voice failed on her.

"I'll fill you in. You've been comatose for five days. Dr Adams here is the only doctor who knows your anatomy and is cleared high enough to treat you.."

Friday nodded. It made sense. They wouldn't risk just anyone treating her. Beverly was the obvious choice. She was chief physician on the President's personal staff, and she'd helped her recover from a near fatal wound from her titanic fight against a Guild Changeling and had at least a working knowledge of how her redundant systems worked.

"You're in a secure ward in a military hospital. We med-evac'd you out as soon as we could," Steve had sat down at the end of the bed.

Friday tried to ask about the kids, but found her voice had still gone.

"You took most of the shrapnel from the grenades. I'm sorry but three of the kids didn't make it and ten of the kids had lacerations to their heads and bodies, but they'll live. For what it's worth a lot more would have died, had you not done what you did. You did all you could and more than we even dreamed possible."

Friday felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. She blinked away a tear. Three!

Steve put his hand on hers and it felt oddly comforting, "Friday, You did everything you could. Nobody blames you. The world thinks Agent Naomi Mena died a heroine. There was no way you could have saved all of them!"

I should have found a way, Friday thought to herself bitterly.

"As soon as you snatched the grenades away the snipers took Daryl and his buddy Sasha down. They're both in custody now and we're well on the way to getting names and faces to their contacts. As I mentioned before the world thinks Agent Mena was killed saving the kids. Hell we all did, you had shrapnel wounds everywhere. Dr Adams here says that your additional head armor you grew probably saved your life. She was also amazed you didn't lose a limb in the blast, although you must have made sure they were protected," Friday noted the admiration tinged with curiosity in his voice.

"I'll give you your dues. You know how to build a survivable body. Even the way it removed the shrapnel from your body was remarkable. As your skin and flesh grew back it pushes the fragments of metal out from your skin and it simply fell out. We Collected nearly 3 pounds of metal from you. In addition to using your body mass as fuel, it seems you use any damaged flesh and bone extra fuel to repair your body and simply grow new ones. You lost nearly 180Lb's in weight. I didn't do much, just ensured you had enough fluids and glucose to help your repair yourself," Dr Adams explained.

No wonder she'd felt weak. She'd used up almost all of her body mass 'fuel' in the repairing of her wounds and in the recovery of the stolen changeling organ. Given a few more hours and she'd be able to change back into her Friday body again. Friday took another couple of sips of water and felt her voice return, "It seems Beverly I owe you my life again, thanks."

"I won't say it's a pleasure, but you did the right thing trying to save those kids," Dr Adams replied, and walked towards Friday's IV to adjust the flow of glucose and water into her.

"What about my cover? I really messed up!" Friday complained.

"Heinlein's got a handle on that. People saw Agent Naomi Mena sprint as fast as a top class athlete and then take four grenade blasts at fairly close range. We moved pretty quickly to get you out of there and you were rushed right here under top security. I'm sure your sprinting efforts would not go unnoticed, which is why regrettably Agent Naomi Mena died of her wounds on the way to hospital. You will insist on keep getting the identities we create for you killed won't you?" Steve smiled.

Friday was still worried. Sure news of Agent Mena's death would put most people off the scent. But a few would wonder and try to connect the dots, "Won't our enemies wonder about what happened?"

Steve nodded, "Some of them will yes. However, you've left enough traces for some people to start wondering what we've got up our sleeves. One of the measures Heinlein has in place is for you to lay low for a while. Take time out to recover from your injuries, you've a lot of mass to pile back on so that you can do what we need you to do. You'll go back to being a teacher for a while, see out the semester."

"But?" Friday protested.

"The world will get along fine without you for a while. It'll give us time to spread disinformation about Agent Mena and the other things you've done that will distract those people who are looking a little too closely," Steve explained.

"I understand, but I'll be able to turn back into Friday in a few more hours," Friday knew Steve was right, but she needed to finish what she'd started.

Steve thought for a few moments, "Put it like this, in a war you have a certain number of small weapons, a certain number of medium weapons and one or two big ones. The kind of weapons you deploy when you are out of small weapons and medium weapons and you've got nothing left to use."

"Meaning me?" Friday asked.

Steve nodded, "Meaning you. We've been over using you, simply because we didn't know what you could do. It's now clear that we need to be very careful how we use you and you'll need to be careful too. No more dismembering and changeling stuff unless really necessary. We want you to learn to shoot and handle conventional weapons as well as you do those you make yourself. If we're to remove suspicion from us, we need to do nothing suspicious."

Friday saw the logic, if her cover was blown her insurance would be useless. Besides, she really needed the time to build back up her reserves. "Ok, how long do I have off?"

"Three months at least, " Steve replied.

"I can be back to full strength in six weeks!" Friday protested.

"Yes, but as I said there's been a policy change. Since your little insurance stunt with Heinlein and this incident you're no longer our weapon of first response, more of last resort."

"This is Heinlein's way of punishing me isn't it?" Friday managed to say, her voice was starting to go once more.

Steve shook his head, "Not at all, just that we need you at full capacity and your secret intact."

Friday sighed in resignation she was simply too tired to argue.

 

15. R&R

"Wake up sleeping Beauty," Friday felt Steve shake her awake. Just how long had she been asleep for?

"What time is it?" Friday asked sleepily. Steve was standing at the

end of her bed, a military kitbag over his shoulder

"9am, how are you feeling? So you decided to be Naomi Mena for a while longer then?" Steve asked.

"I didn't have a choice. Last night, I was too weak to change. As for feeling, like I could do with a month off. What's in the bag?" Friday asked. She ached all over, but thanks to the glucose drip and an 18 hour sleep she was no longer utterly exhausted.

Steve gently tossed the bag onto the end of the bed, "Glad you're feeling better than yesterday. As for the bag it's is your uniform Lieutenant. Time for you to go."

"Why, do they need the bed?" Friday quipped.

"No, but the longer your stay here the more of a security risk you are," Steve explained.

Interesting, Friday thought. They must be more concerned about the events at the airport than she had assumed. "Ok, give me fifteen minutes."

"Sure," Steve replied and Friday watched him leave the room and close the door.

It took all of her concentration and what little reserves she'd built up over night but she just managed to change her face into that of her normal 'Friday' one. Naomi Mena had been a fairly close match size wise so she would leave the rest of her body as is until she got back home.

Every arm movement was an effort, and it took her ten minutes to put her Air Force uniform on and make sure she would pass muster. She tied her hair back into a pony tail and placed her cap at the correct angle. She had five minutes to recover her strength. She'd need to walk out of here unaided.

There was a knock at the door and a few seconds later Steve walked in. "Come on Lieutenant, time to leave."

Friday nodded in agreement and as best as she could walked out of the ward with Steve at hand should she fall.

The rest of the journey home was a blur as she drifted between sleep and wakefulness but it was nearly 11pm when she arrived home and Steve helped her to her room.

--- oo ---

The next day, she felt much better, so much so that she had Steve cooking bacon, eggs and waffles for much of the morning.

"Am I going to be cooking for you all day?" Steve complained.

"Probably, "Friday said tucking into her fifth plate of bacon, eggs, waffles and hash browns.

"You certainly seem brighter than yesterday. You slept pretty much all the way back. Three eggs this time or four?" Steve said, gesturing towards the frying pan.

"Six please. I need the protein and carbs. I've a lot of mass to put back on," Friday explained.

"At this rate you'll do that by the end of today," Steve muttered reaching towards another egg.

"Have you told Principal Collier to expect me back tomorrow?" Friday asked. For all the excitement of the past few days she found that she missed teaching. She wanted to know how Angela, Adrian and all the rest of them were doing. Although she'd only been away for three weeks it seemed like forever.

Steve nodded, "It's all been arranged. Sunny side up this time?"

"Please, make sure the bacon isn't too crispy this time," Friday gave Steve a joking look.

Steve sighed "I hate bacon," and went back to frying eggs.

Around midday, and feeling much stronger Friday took the opportunity to change her body back to that of Friday proper and the followed it up by an hour or two, just drifting at the bottom of the pool. Somehow, the isolation of being under the water allowed her to shut out her thoughts, feelings and the world in general. It was the closest she could get to obtaining release.

By the time she emerged from the pool and retracted her gills Steve had gone out, presumably on some errand for Heinlein. So she was left alone once more, but feeling immeasurably more energetic. Part of her wanted to exercise, to relieve some of the pent up frustration and pass the time away, instead she retrieved her text books from the bookcase in the living room and started to prepare for tomorrow's class.

Steve still wasn't back by seven, and Friday was going stir crazy. She'd been in the house all day and inside more or less, for the past six days. She needed to get out. She slipped on a pair of jeans, a green jersey and after collecting her portable CD player hailed a cab.

--- oo ---

She'd asked the cab to drop her off downtown, she just wanted to walk and people watch. Somehow seeing people go about their day to day lives kept her in touch with her humanity. She'd only walked a couple of hundred yards when she spotted an empty bench, perfect.

Sitting down on it she put her headphones on and pressed play on her portable CD player.

"Here by my side, an angel

Here by my side, the devil

Never turn your back on me

Never turn your back on me, again

Here by my side, it's Heaven

 

Here by my side, you are destruction

Here by my side, a new color to paint the world

Never turn your back on it

Never turn your back on it, again

Here by my side, it's Heaven

 

Careful, be careful

Careful, be careful

This is where the world drops off

Where the world drops off

Careful, be careful"

 

The melancholy lyrics and tune caused her to reflect on the past few days. Could she have saved those kids? Logic said no, but then why did her heart say otherwise?

She'd had, she reflected probably spent too much time alone and in her own company. Yet alone was all she had.

 

"You breathe in and you breathe out

For it ain't so weird

How it makes you a weapon

And you give in

And you give out

For it ain't so weird

How it makes you a weapon

Never turn your back on it

Never turn your back on it again

 

Careful, be careful

Here by my side, it's Heaven"

"There you are!"

Friday glanced up to see Steve standing over her, "Here I am," she replied sarcastically. She was annoyed that Steve had somehow tracked her down.

"Can I sit?" Steve asked.

"If you like," Friday said sullenly.

Steve sat down and turned to look at her. She turned away from his gaze and looked straight ahead, "Go away. I need some 'me' time."

"All you ever have is 'me time', Come on, let's go have some dinner, my treat?" Steve invited.

"How'd you find me?" Friday's mood was not helped by the thought that Steve had been following her.

"I persuaded Heinlein to let me use some spare spy satellite time and I used it to home in on you."

Steve's attempt at a joke didn't even raise a smile.

"If you want to know, I went home noticed you were gone and as I was about to leave to go look for you. I bumped into Marge. Y'know the hotpot lady. Anyway she told me you'd caught a cab so I guessed you'd come downtown."

"I see. I do carry a cell phone though," Friday replied. The irritation of being followed here was slowly vanishing. Steve was here now and he clearly wasn't going to go away.

"Yeah, but you never turn it on. I know you've had what, ten breakfast's today but I've only had the one and I'm famished. You can watch me eat if you like."

Seeing as she really had no choice, Steve was very tenacious sometimes and occasionally it was good to take the path of least resistance. "Ok, but I get to pick."

"Ok, where?" Steve asked.

"Just over there," Friday pointed at an exclusive seafood restaurant she'd passed earlier.

"Ok, but I'll have to work double time just to pay for the meal," Steve replied resigned to spending more than he'd wanted to.

Friday inwardly smiled, he had promised to pay for the meal and it was a suitable punishment for interrupting her, "Let's go then."

The restaurant was suitably high class, and both Steve and Friday looked out of place dressed as they were. A hefty 'tip' to the matre de ensured that they got a secluded table, away from most of the diners. An arrangement which suited the matre de just fine.

Steve passed Friday the menu and picked up one himself. "Have you seen these prices!" he exclaimed.

Friday nodded, "Yes. I used to come here occasionally, with my parents, before.., " he voice tailed off. She didn't need to say any more.

Steve nodded, "So that's why you suggested this place?"

Friday nodded, "Partly, and secondly you said it was your treat. I'm now a poor school teacher, you're the professional spy remember."

Steve smiled, "I don't know about that. Your doing pretty well. It seems as though we've hardly had time to breathe over the last few weeks."

Friday flicked her hair back away from her face, "To be honest I feel as though I've been doing crap. I've been reacting to events, not creating the events in the first place. Those kids..."

"Those kids are now alive, because of what you did. If you had obeyed orders then more would have died. The three that did are a tragic loss, but you will always get no win scenarios," Steve interrupted.

"I don't believe in a no win scenario. It's just an excuse for saying I didn't try hard enough. There is always a solution. It may be painful and it may seem a no win situation but it isn't. There is always a way out of any trap, or any situation, "Friday explained.

"Friday, not being rude but that's crap. You've told me about what happened a few months ago. There was no way you could save all those people. It was a no win situation. Just accept it, I think it'll help."

"What the hell do you know about what went on! You only know what I told you! I should have been able to find a way. I should have realized that the Guild had started warhead production earlier. It was my mistake. I should have waited until we stopped the changelings before taking down the Guild! Can we change the subject please," Friday had wanted to shout at Steve, but instead her voice came out just quietly sad.

The subject change was enforced on them, as the waiter came over and asked if they were ready to order. Friday requested a few more minutes and the waiter duly went away.

"Look, they have a qualified Fugu chef," Friday pointed at the back of the menu.

"Puffer fish?" Steve queried.

Friday nodded, "I've not had it cooked before. I used to eat it raw just after I got my C.O. I used to adapt my body to negate pretty much all the effects of Tetrodotoxin and just keep the nice effects of euphoria. Ah ok maybe I won't have it then, it's $2,000. I'll just have the sushi platter," she could see the relief on Steve's face.

"Same here I think. Must be useful having a body that can create an antidote to most poisons," Steve commented.

"Most commons ones are easy to do, as I know their effects and what the molecule looks like. Even nasty stuff like Sarin is ok because I can regenerate the affected nerves, and produce anti toxins before it takes hold. Any esoteric poisons or custom made ones are more difficult until I've had chance to analyze them properly. That's how I killed the last Guild changeling, he didn't know he was poisoned or even what with, so he didn't have a chance.

"You told me, " Steve said interestedly.

"I know, "Friday's voiced tailed off as she noticed the waiter walk towards them.

A minute or so later they'd placed their order and the waiter left.

"We've spent all night talking about me, we never talk about you," Friday commented.

"Me? I'm trying to get back in to the swing of things. So much has changed since I was captured. I mean that whole millennium bug was a huge deal when I flew out, and it all turns out to be a big con. I bet those survivalists in Montana are real pissed they spent all their money on fallout shelters," Steve said with a smile.

"That's what I mean. We've been partners for over a month and yet I still feel as though I don't know you," Why was Steve being evasive?

Steve gave a laugh, "I'm really not that interesting. Let me see. Grew up in South Dakota, got a scholarship, went to Quantico and spent ten years in the Marines. Then the CIA came calling and I decided to join up as a field agent. As for not really knowing me, that's not surprising. I've spent my life avoiding letting people know who I am. Then in the POW hell hole I just kept things bottled up. You don't survive any other way. I guess it's just force of habit."

"I guess we're similar like that. It's strange, when I'm someone else. I mean pretending to be someone else it's like the NSB doesn't exist, only Friday," Friday found herself opening up a little. It helped.

Friday watched Steve's rugged face take on a thinking expression. He was obviously thinking who NSB was, "NSB Ah yes. Her. How much of you is her and how much is Friday?"

"I really have no idea. To be honest I feel like some kind of wraith, a being with no soul and only a memory of once being alive. I'm simply existing, doing what I have to do in an attempt to gain some kind of peace. Friday is simply who I am right now. Some days, I get a glimpse of what little humanity remains in me, like after I rescued those kids at school. But, that's all it is a fleeting, stolen glance," Friday looked away from Steve, she didn't want him to see how she was feeling. Conflicting emotions rose up inside her. If she didn't want him to see, then why did she just open up?

She felt Steve take hold of her hand, "It must be hard living with so much pain inside. You have to let it go, otherwise it will bury you."

For one moment she felt like snatching her hand away, but Steve's touch was comforting in a small way. At the moment she would take any comfort she could get, "That's what I'm trying to do. Let it go in the only way I know how."

Steve gently withdrew is hand, the moment had passed, "We'll talk more on this later. I've been wondering something else?"

"Oh?" Friday said, maybe Steve was right.

"How much do you miss being a doctor?" Steve asked.

"Lot's. It's not the status or the money that I miss, it's being able to help people directly. It's all I ever wanted to do, even from being a little girl. I didn't know or appreciate it at the time, but when I was working for Dad was some of the happiest times in my life. Sure there were hard times, such as breaking bad news to a patient or their next of kin. But seeing the relief and joy wash over people's faces as I told them their loved ones would live or were better made up for it a hundred fold."

Steve nodded in approval, "It's a shame they'll never let you practice medicine again. From what your file said you were one hell of a doctor.

It felt good about being complimented by Steve, "Thanks. I was never sure which I preferred more, working in ER or as a surgeon. ER had a real buzz about it, although some nights it would get really dull as all you'd get is drunks who'd fallen into or off something. It was hard, but rewarding work. Sometimes I'd do 14 or even 20 hour stints, and not even blink about it, of course I was a lot younger then," Friday gave Steve a smile.

Steve returned the grin, "You don't look a day over 24, must be good to lose a few years whenever you feel like it."

"My age varies with my soul," Friday replied cryptically.

"That was quick," Friday commented as he spotted the waiter bringing their meal over.

"They must want us out of here," Steve said wryly.

"Probably, come on eat up I've got a school day tomorrow."

 

(continued)

  

  

  

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