A Wish the Heart Makes : Fornever in Blue Genes

by: Tigger

 

Chapter 18: Under Attack

Morag walked into Robert’s main lab and stood behind the older man as he studied the symbols on his small lab computer. She waited for several moments to be recognized, but West was in a different world. "Doctor?" she said gently, her soft brogue rolling the ‘r’ liltingly.

Robert jumped as if he’d been poked, but he calmed quickly enough once he recognized Morag. "Ah, Morag, my dear. So good of you to come over so quickly."

"The Chief said ye needed tae talk with me, Doctor."

"Well, yes, but actually, I need a bit more than that. I need . . . that is, it would help greatly if you would let me take a few tissue samples from you."

Morag’s stomach rolled just a bit at that. "Tissue? What tissue and why, Doctor?" she demanded, not at all certain she wanted any part of this.

"Oh . . . just bit of skin and a few drops of blood . . . no more than a nick. That’s all. As to why . . . well, you know who Mandy really is . . . or at least . . . who she used to be?" The last was really more a statement than a question.

"Yes, sir. The Chief briefed me into the program a week or so ago at the direction of the Boss."

"So I heard. Well, I think I have determined what has been preventing me from changing Mandy back into a male. Right now, I am setting up tissue tests on samples from Mandy to make sure that the tissue remains whole during the transition from XX chromosome based back to XY."

"So? I am not Mandy, sir? Why do you want tae steal m’blood?"

Robert sighed. "You see, Morag, I only *think* I know what happened last time. It occurs to me, that if there is one interaction I don’t know about, there might be others. I want to see if I can change tissue from folks other than Mandy without having that tissue disintegrate or die on me. And you and Cat are especially interesting cases. You see, there are two different gene sites that each seem to determine if a person will survive transition. Men who survive the change to women end up with a gene set that precludes them surviving the return trip. Surprisingly, you and Cat have that gene set naturally. In other words, if I did not intervene and fix that gene set before the main transition, you would die from the treatment. Actually, in your case, I would only have to fix one of the gene pairs. Cat would require both."

"I see," Morag said softly. "So, does this mean you’ve already designed a new body for me?"

"You might say that," Robert affirmed pointing to a group of small amber bottles clustered over on the lab table. "I prepared that treatment using the new intervention and the optimizing program so that I can test it with your tissue."

"So, what kind of man would ye make of me, Doctor?" Morag asked with an impish grin.

"Impressive, my dear, very impressive. But then, you are already a very impressive woman, and I would not make you less." Robert turned back to his computer, and then snapped back to Morag. "Ummm . . . do you want to be a man, Morag? If this works, we could do it, you know. You’ve seen what we did with Matt."

West thought he saw a moment’s hesitation from Morag, but then she smiled at him. "Nay, Doctor. For all my combat skills and size, I am happy as I am. I have earned what I am, such as it tis."

"Very wise, I am sure. Well, come over here and we’ll get our samples, then you can go back to your duties."

~--------------~

Outside the logistics gate of the BioCybernetics compound, a large air/ground delivery vehicle settled. The young guard in the protected enclave noted its arrival in his log and moved toward the communicator, intending to report the unusual occurrence to the command center. He never made it.

The side of the grav-truck opened and two large tubes appeared. An instant later, the gates and the secured enclave were in shambles, and the young guard was dead. At that same instant, an air transport was zeroing in on Robert’s laboratory. Its heavy energy weapons discharged, surgically opening entry holes through which a small team of black- suited, armed raiders raced through.

The attack achieved its goal of total surprise. That far inside the compound, only one or two members of the security force were on scene near the facility, and they had no more chance than the gate guard. Within moments, the invaders had killed or disabled the access control guards and had gained unopposed control of Robert’s lab.

"Move!" ordered the officer commanding the small attack force of ten operatives. "We have no more than two minutes before reinforcements will be on the scene. Data-Team! Get into the lab and get the main computer core. Our scientists will break their codes back at base. Number 2! Take your squad and make sure the building is secure. I will go to the main lab with the data-team."

"On it, chief!" responded another of the black-garbed combatants as the group split into two teams, one following each speaker.

Bob West heard the explosions outside and turned his workstation to the security circuits. A quick scan showed that there was no hope that the invaders would be stopped before they reached his lab. *I have to protect THE Project,* he thought. *That’s the only reason they would be hitting us here and not the advanced technology development labs where all Matt’s secret QuantCha technologies are being tested.*

The opposition’s data-team burst into Robert’s lab just as he was trying to key the destruct sequence into his private workstation. "STOP!" ordered the leader, but Robert kept at his task. His hand was moving to the execute key when a bright red beam lanced out from the leader’s hand weapon.

Robert was dead before his hand could depress the actuation key as the laser cut through his back and vaporized his heart. "Get the core, team," the leader ordered before beginning to check the lab itself.

"What’s this?" the leader asked, picking up a bottle marked ‘FtoM Transition Treatment - Morag MacPherson - Tissue Culture Testing ONLY!’.

She was about to look at the other two bottles when one of the tech-teamers called, "Number One?" Pocketing the bottle, she turned to toward the technician who was moving Robert’s body.

"What is it?"

"We can get the main core, but your shot went right through his body and fried the central core of this small desk unit. Whatever was in here is trashed."

"Any chance it can be recovered?"

"None, Number One. Your laser blast killed off most of the bio-circuits when you killed him. There’s nothing recoverable left alive in there."

"Damn. All right, can’t be helped. Get your team and let’s get the main core back to the transport. We’ve only got a few more seconds here anyway."

"Right."

Moments later, the transport was lifting, and making it’s high speed escape. Three security force airsleds lifted only a few seconds later, intent on following the invader. Their intercept track took them directly over the demolished logistics gate security enclave. Five seconds after lifting, the interceptor ships were shattered, burning hulks, victims of the same energy weapon that had started the attack by destroying the gate.

~------------~

Morag MacPherson had been coming out of the ladies room when the attack on the lab facility had started. She silently unholstered her sidearm and fingered off the safety as she watched the enemy strike team maneuver. Morag’s finger itched on the activator switch for her blaster, but she held her fire. There were simply too many of them for her to shoot individually and since they all wore battle armor, her weapon’s wide angle fire mode would be ineffective. They *might* get a mild case of radiation burn, but nothing that would incapacitate them. On the other hand, unarmored as she was, Morag knew she’d be dead before she got halfway through them.

Quietly, she maneuvered to a place where she could eavesdrop on the attackers.

"Number One," an electronic voice squawked. "Building is secure, but we’ve got activity to the east. Estimated at less than platoon strength. I’d say we have at most sixty seconds left before this turns into a fire fight."

"Understood, Number Two," one of the figures in the lab responded. "Evacuate the building, and prepare to cover the data-team’s egress. We’re done here."

"Roger. We’ll be in covering position in twenty seconds."

Morag watched as the members of the team in the lab began a very orderly, disciplined withdrawal. *These gals are damned well trained,* Morag thought to herself. *What the hell do I do now?*

It probably wasn’t a good idea. In fact, Morag *knew* it was damned stupid, but the one thing they did not know was precisely *who* they were up against. Lack of good intelligence had been hampering BioCybernetics’ ability to counter these people since the very beginning of this caper.

She moved toward the door, hoping to take down the last woman as a prisoner, but the team was just too good at mutual support - her buddy had her too well covered. *Okay, what’s plan b?*

Morag rechecked her weapon, and then slipped back out the back door of the lab, racing around to find where the team had headed when they left the lab. Out a window, she saw the big transport, and the members of the attack team setting up a covering position as they began loading whatever it was that they had stolen onto the craft. A quick glance toward the security barracks showed that a retaliation team had mustered, but Morag’s experienced eye told her that they would not arrive at the scene in time to stop the invaders’ escape.

*Have they covered both sides of the transport?* she asked herself. *Don’t see how many more could fit in that thing . . . not with every mother’s daughter of them wearin’ that much battle gear.*

Thought became deed, and in seconds, Morag was outside, circling around the transport. As she’d surmised, there hadn’t been anyone covering the offside of the craft, but there was a door of some type. It looked too small to be an access. Morag raised her weapon and shot away the door’s locking mechanism. The door popped open to reveal a tool cabinet. It was small, but Morag quickly cleared away the tools and jumped inside, folding herself into as tiny a package as she could. She reached out, and pulled the door shut just as the craft lifted.

*Oh god. What happens if we send up those damned modified airsled interceptors of Donovan’s to shoot this thing down???*

 

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© 1996 by Tigger. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.