Genomorph

Chapter 60

CHAPTER 60

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2005
0030 EST

Alvin Miller, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, listened to the tale Amanda Breton and Admiral Hammerstein told him, only his eyes betraying his emotions. They ranged from disbelief to rage as the plot was laid out for him. The whole beltway was in a rapidly growing uproar as word began making the rounds that something was going down, which was why the Director was still in his office at such a late hour.

“I’ve tried to initiate an investigation into this group for some time,” Miller said when they had finished. “I was blocked at every turn. Without concrete evidence, my hands were tied.”

“You have the evidence,” Hammerstein told him, indicating the files on Miller’s desk. “There will be more coming. We have people poring over the data now.”

Miller nodded, fighting off the feeling of resentment that the Bureau had been kept out of the loop in the earliest stages of the operation. The files they had shown him clearly indicated that the FBI had been heavily infiltrated, and he himself had been targeted for ‘conversion’ after the coup was initiated.

“Does this have anything to do with that incident at UCLA?” Miller asked.

“Yes, the organization was attempting to … retrieve something they lost,” Amanda said.

“By any chance, did they lose a very attractive young blonde woman?” Miller said. “She is wanted for questioning by us and the LAPD. They are still trying to ID the bodies from that mess. We have twelve unidentified corpses in full military gear, all apparently killed by this young woman in a running gun battle. We also have a dead federal agent, though it pains me to use that title for anyone involved with that organization.”

“It sounds like a clear case of self-defense to me,” Hammerstein said.

“Don’t play games with me, Admiral,” Miller warned. “We have the girl’s name, at least the name she is using, Brenda Williams. We found her car shot to hell on campus. We haven’t been able to positively establish that her identity is fictitious, but it smells like a cover. If you know who she really is and where she is, you had best tell me, or you could face charges yourself. She has a lot of questions to answer.”

The Hammer rose and leaned over the Director’s desk, his face a stony mask.

“I won’t play games with you, Director,” the Admiral said. “I know exactly who she is. I know that she is the most loyal and courageous person I have ever known. I know that not only would she give up her life for this country, she has…twice. She gave more than anyone should ever be asked to give, and all she asked for in return was a little peace. They chose not to give it to her, and they will pay the price for that mistake. If you want to throw me in the brig, go ahead, because as God is my witness, I’ll rot there before I give her up.”

“I share Michael’s sentiments, Director,” Amanda said. “And I think you will find that everyone who knows this young woman does as well.”

“So I am supposed to sit on my hands and wait for this evidence to fall into my lap?”

“As you said, for now there is nothing you can do.” Amanda told him. “These people have operated outside the law for so long, and that is how they must be dealt with.”

“When it’s over, you can pick up the pieces,” the Admiral added as he returned to his seat. “I suggest you bring a big broom.”

“All right, we’ll play it your way,” the Director said. “You know there’s nothing in any of these files so far that directly ties the head of the organization to any of this? Even if we had something, his involvement will likely be swept under the rug in the best interest of the country.”

“He may never go to trial, but rest assured he will answer for his crimes,” Admiral Hammerstein said. “She will see to that.”

They talked for several more minutes as the Director told them he would begin assembling a team of agents and secure the necessary warrants for several individuals who were implicated by the evidence they had collected. When Amanda and the Admiral left the office, Gretchen was waiting for them, pacing restlessly in the outer office.

Amanda walked over to the young woman and placed her arm around her shoulder.

“I’m sure Ryan is all right, dear,” she said.

“He must be,” Gretchen said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Please … he must be.”

*****

A guard rounded the corner of the loading dock and saw Ryan as he worked to bypass the lock on the door. His hand went to the grip of his weapon, and he began raising it to fire.

Matt Branch popped up from behind the crate and sent a three round burst from his M4 into the guard’s chest. The man dropped without firing, but it did not matter, the report of Branch’s burst was still echoing through the dock.

“Now would be a good time, Mr. Sanders,” Branch said.

“Almost there,” Ryan told him. “Thirty seconds tops.”

A hail of bullets tore into the loading dock, and the SEALs instantly returned fire. Ryan resisted the urge to dive for cover and entered the last few keystrokes into the computer. The door lock clicked open.

“I got it!” Ryan shouted.

He turned to face Branch just as something slammed into his right side like a hammer. Ryan lost his balance and fell to the concrete, his pulse pounding in his ears. He could feel something wet spreading along his side, and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

“Jennings, Sanders is down at the door,” Branch called. “Franklin, Talbot, frag the room. Everyone fall back to the door.”

Seamen Franklin and Talbot moved quickly to the door. Franklin yanked it open, and Talbot tossed a M67 fragmentation grenade into the room beyond. The SEALs hugged the wall as the grenade detonated and then rushed inside. One of the guards was dead, and the other was bleeding and stunned. Talbot kicked his weapon away and quickly secured his hands with a heavy duty cable tie.

Branch grabbed Ryan’s vest by the handle sewn in at the back of the neck and dragged him through the door as the rest of the SEALs followed. Seaman Brad Kelly was the last through the door and was caught by several rounds before he got through. He dropped to the floor and Talbot immediately pulled him clear and slammed the door shut.

“Kelly’s dead, Skipper,” Talbot said.

“Dammit,” Branch swore. “All right, Denton, take your element and secure the front; we’ll hold here.”

Petty Officer Kurt Denton and four of the SEALs moved down the corridor towards the front entrance. The rest of the SEALs took positions at the windows to either side of the loading dock entrance and began engaging the enemies that were trying to make it to the dock. They switched their weapons to semiautomatic to conserve ammunition; it reduced their rate of fire, but their accuracy more than made up for it. As the battle raged, Branch moved over to where Jennings was treating Ryan’s wound.

“It’s not good, Skipper,” Jennings told him. “He’s got a punctured lung for sure. The round hit the gap between the front and back trauma plates.”

“We’ve got to move him, Greg,” Branch said. “There’s an office just up the hall that will be protected from any stray rounds.”

“Understood, Skipper,” Jennings said. “I’ll have him patched up in one minute.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, I guess I didn’t keep low enough,” Ryan said, his voice weak.

“You did great,” Branch said. “Save your strength; we’re not out of this yet.”

*****

“Melissa, you read me?” Chief Wright’s voice spoke in the earpiece Melissa wore.

“Yes, Chief.”

“They’re not paying much attention to you right now,” Wright said. “I want you to move towards the rise behind you. Stay low and keep the Hummer between you and them the best you can. If they spot you and open up, run like hell. Lewis and Darrow will cover.”

“OK, Chief, I’m moving,” Melissa said.

Before she did as he told her, she reached into the back of the Hummer and grabbed an M4 carbine and a ballistic armor vest loaded with magazines. The vest was more than a bit tight over her chest; it was not designed for someone with a figure like she now had, but she managed to get it fastened.

Keeping low, as the Chief had instructed, she moved out at a quick trot. She was halfway to the rise when one of the machinegun crews spotted her and opened fire. Melissa sprinted forward as fast as she could, which was a lot faster than she could have a few days before. She reached the top of the rise and dove forward, rolling painfully down the rocky slope as bullets chewed across the crest behind her. She came to a stop at the base of a large rock and quickly took stock to make certain she was unhurt.

“I’m clear, Chief,” Melissa reported as she rose.

“All right, sweetheart, you sit tight,” Wright told her.

“Chief, I can work my way around to you,” Melissa said.

“Negative, you are done here,” Wright said. “If you get hurt, Brandi will kick my ass all over this desert.”

“All right, sitting tight,” Melissa muttered and sat down to wait for the battle to end.

It was harder than she would have ever imagined; at the university, she had functioned but had been terrified the entire time. It had only been the fact that Brandi was there with her that had allowed her to do what she did. Now it was different, and as she heard the booming echoes of the snipers’ rifles as they began firing into the compound, something screamed inside her, telling her she should be a part of it. Then with sudden clarity she knew why she felt that way – the nano-cyborgs had rewritten her DNA to match Brandi’s.

“I have the warrior genes now,” she whispered.

*****

Brandi had managed to make it to the stairwell and down to the fifth level of the lab without running into any of the security patrols. She was not particularly concerned about being spotted now; they were certainly aware she was on the loose by now, but she would try to avoid any unnecessary violence. She was running on her reserves already; the effort of holding Melissa’s form so long had not been nearly as taxing as in the past but it had still taken a lot out of her. She wondered if the bonding somehow made it easier for her to take her mate’s form. Whatever the reason, she had to be careful; she wanted to save her strength for Mitchell.

Level five was going to be much harder to get through. It was the most secure level of the lab, housing the GMU chamber, the training room, and the vault with the stockpiles of Forerunner artifacts, as well as numerous other labs. It was always heavily patrolled, but now she could sense through the door that it was crawling with security personnel.

~ I think they want to make it hard for me to get to the control room. Silly men, I’m not even trying to get there. ~

The plan had never included Brandi stopping the transmission from the control room; her task now was simply to make it appear that she was trying to do that, to encourage them to try to send the signal as quickly as possible. When they opened the doors on top of the bunker housing the dish, they were in for a nasty surprise.

A pair of guards was approaching the door, she could hear their hearts beating and even sense the electrical impulses as their synapses fired. These boys were very tense.

“Time to make an entrance,” she said.

As she sensed they were even with the door, she launched a spinning back kick. For the first time since her transformation, she unleashed every ounce of strength as her foot impacted the door. The results surprised her; the door did not just swing open, it was knocked off its hinges and flew across the corridor, smashing the two guards against the opposite wall.

“Ooops, did I do that?” Brandi giggled as she lifted the heavy fire door off the two unconscious men.

Her effervescent demeanor vanished in an instant, and she quickly stripped the men of their weapons and ammunition, experiencing the same difficulty Melissa had as she donned a load bearing vest from one of the men.

“Note to self,” she said aloud as she struggled to buckle the vest. “See if I can get a vest custom made for a 36G bust.”

Brandi checked the weapons she had taken from the men; usually the guards carried MP5 submachine guns, but these were armed with HK G36C compact assault rifles. That told her they knew that the assault rifle rounds could penetrate her armor, probably from reviewing video of the gun battle at UCLA.

“Well, if it was easy anyone could do it,” she sighed.

The assault rifles were small, but still much heavier than the MP7s she had used, and the balance was not as good for firing one handed. Still, she knew she was strong enough to do it, and slung them across her body so they hung on either side, barrels forward and the grips within easy reach.

As she moved down the corridor, Brandi spied one of the intercom panels that were spaced throughout the lab. A smile spread across her face, not her usual bright sunburst, but one that was filled with malevolence. Maybe there was a way she could cut through the fodder and get to the real goal, at least her real goal now.

*****

Susan blinked her eyes rapidly when the light from the office flooded them as Barbara removed the optical programmer. She looked at her and recoiled, recognizing her as the woman who had replaced her on the project.

“It’s all right, Susan, I’m the one who has been supplying Amanda with information,” she said. “I removed the programming that was placed in you. How do you feel?”

“A little dizzy, but otherwise fine,” Susan said. “What’s happening?”

“Brandi was here a short time ago,” Barbara told her. “She is on her way to the control room now. She used my computer to delay the signal.”

“Is Melissa safe?”

“I don’t know the details, but I do know that Melissa was never here,” Barbara said. “Brandi walked in here well before the deadline, and I can only assume that she was posing as Melissa.”

“But I saw them both!” Susan said. “That couldn’t be unless … oh no….”

“What is it, Susan?”

“Brandi and Melissa bonded,” Susan said. “If Brandi was posing as Melissa, then Melissa is now her twin. They accelerated the change. She knew I would be turned, so she kept it from me.”

“It should all be over soon, and then we can fix it,” Barbara said.

Before either of them could say more, the intercom speaker on the wall blasted out a burst of static, followed after a second by Brandi’s voice.

“Attention, boys, please listen carefully,” Brandi said. To Susan, her voice sounded different; cold and lifeless.

“I don’t want any of you; all I want is Evan Mitchell. The quickest way for me to get him is for the rest of you to stay out of my way. You’ve already lost; my friends are in control on the surface, and as soon as your boss opens up the bunker to align the dish, they are going to blow it to hell.

“I don’t particularly want to kill all of you, but I don’t particularly not want to either. It’s your choice; stand aside and live, or stand in my way and die. Oh, and Mitchell, you don’t have a choice, you’re not leaving this place alive.”

“I don’t understand,” Susan said as the speaker went silent. “She talks like she’s looking forward to killing a man. Mitchell is a pig but ….”

“It’s worse than that,” Barbara said, walking over to her computer. “I saw this after Brandi left. I think she left it on screen so you could see it … so you would understand.”

Susan rose from the couch and walked over to the desk. She read the file that Brandi had left open on the machine, the Genomorph file, and she did understand.

“We have to stop her,” Susan said.

“I don’t understand, surely she has reason to want him dead,” Barbara said. “It’s not like she hasn’t killed before.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Susan countered. “Brandi has always killed out of necessity, because there was no other choice. This is different, its revenge. Worse than that, it’s murder. I won’t let her do it.”

“And just how do you intend to stop her?”

Susan had to admit she had no idea. Brandi could easily overpower either of them without even having to resort to violence. She knew she had to find a way to reach her, to give her time to get her grief and rage under control before Brandi found Mitchell and did something she would surely hate herself for.

*****

The Man and Mercer heard the announcement and had no doubt that the girl was telling the truth. The dish would be vulnerable for several minutes once the roof of the bunker was opened, as it elevated and swung into position. With all communications cut off, they could not tell how things were going up top.

“What should I do, sir?” the technician asked.

“Proceed,” the Man said. “She could be bluffing.”

“Yes, sir,” the tech replied. “Opening the shield doors now. It will take three minutes for the dish to acquire the satellite.”

“Sir, even if the signal gets out, we have lost control of this facility,” Mercer whispered. “I recommend we get you out of here. The girl is hunting Mitchell at the moment, but once she deals with him, she’ll turn her attention to us.”

The Man nodded, and he and Mercer quietly slipped out of the control room. All the elevators and the stairwell were locked down, but there was another way out of the lab; a secret hangar that was totally isolated from the security system and only accessible to them. Inside, a helicopter was kept fueled and ready, with a pilot standing by whenever the Man was at the lab.

They had underestimated the girl once again, the Man thought as he and Mercer entered the access tunnel for the hangar, which was a short distance from the control room. They boarded an electric cart and started down the mile-long passage, which gradually sloped up until it reached the hangar.

Yes, this was a setback, but it was not defeat. The sleepers were still out there, and they had no way of knowing who all of them were without the files in the safe house in Arlington. Once they were away from the lab, he would order those files purged, along with all the other files regarding their plan. It would take time to rebuild, but he had all the time in the world.

*****

“We got activity, Chief,” Enrique Vasquez said as he watched the compound. He and the Chief had crept to a position on a small ridge just under two thousand meters to the southwest of the site.

The approach had not been particularly hazardous; the mercenaries were too occupied trying to force their way into the main building while avoiding fire from Lewis and Darrow. The only way they could do that effectively was to concentrate their assault on the loading dock, which placed the building between them and the snipers. Unfortunately, the dock was not an easy target; the SEALs were well concealed behind walls that were made of two feet of steel reinforced concrete. The building had been constructed to match the blockhouses used throughout the Nevada Test Site for atmospheric testing of nuclear weapons. The trailer that had smuggled the SEALs into the perimeter was also forcing the mercenaries to approach through a narrow corridor, eliminating their numerical advantage.

With the mercenaries otherwise engaged, it would have been extremely simple for the two SEALs to reach their position, had they not been carrying with them the Javelin missile system. The launcher was now set up, and Vasquez had the cross hairs fixed on the roof of the bunker housing the satellite dish.

“Yeah, they’re opening it up,” Wright confirmed as he watched the monitor connected to the sighting system. As the steel doors swung away, the dish slowly elevated up from the structure. It was easily visible to the thermal imaging system, the steel framework radiating much more heat than the surrounding desert which had dissipated away the day’s heat. The targeting system recorded the thermal image and downloaded it into the missile’s guidance system.

“We have a lock,” Wright said. “Clear to fire.”

“Firing,” Vasquez said as he squeezed the trigger.

With a loud pop, the ejection charge propelled the missile from the launcher. It traveled several feet under the momentum of the initial charge, and then the missile’s rocket motor kicked in. With a whoosh of expanding gas, the missile streaked up to an altitude of one hundred fifty meters and then tipped over, the infrared seeker at the tip scanning the ground. It located the dish and matched it to the image stored in its memory and rocketed forward.

Designed to penetrate more than six hundred millimeters of armor, the Javelin had no problem at all with the dish. The precursor charge, which was intended to detonate the reactive armor on a target tank, blasted a hole through the surface of the dish and a half second later the primary warhead detonated at the base of the dish. A tremendous fireball billowed up from the bunker as the uplink dish was totally destroyed.

The explosion had an added, though totally unexpected benefit. The mercenaries mistook the detonation for a mortar attack. Vasquez and Wright reinforced their belief by loading a second Javelin and taking out the hangar. Having already suffered more than fifty percent casualties, the security force decided that the pay was not worth the risk and threw down their weapons.

“And once more we have fought the good fight for truth, justice and the American way,” Vasquez said with a smile.

Chief Wright grunted, looking skyward as the sound of rotor blades became audible. Soon a group of CH-46 Sea Knight helicopters came into view. They began touching down all around the compound, and Marines of the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit began pouring out.

“Better late than never,” Chief Wright grumbled.

*****

Evan Mitchell fired a burst from his MP5 into the locking mechanism on the armory door to no effect. The door was intended to withstand such an attempt to breech it and remained locked.

“Dammit,” he cursed, snatching a fragmentation grenade from his webbing. He wedged it in the door handle and pulled the pin and then ran for cover around a corner.

The grenade detonated with a tremendous blast, the sound amplified by the confines of the corridor. When Mitchell approached the door again, he saw with satisfaction that the lock had been shattered.

Inside the armory, he discarded the MP5; it was next to useless against the girl and would just give her an excuse to shoot him. He knew what would slow her down though. He grabbed a pair of taser pistols and a pair of stun batons. The tasers were standard issue, but the batons had been modified. They already delivered a charge that, at seven-hundred-fifty-thousand volts, was fifteen times greater than the pistols, and the modifications had altered their energy discharge to a frequency that should play hell with the Genomorph’s nervous system. Mitchell secured the weapons, along with a pair of collapsible steel batons, to his belt and left the armory.

“Just the man I was looking for.”

Mitchell whirled at the sound of the voice just in time to catch a powerful kick to the abdomen that lifted him off his feet and propelled him down the corridor. He landed hard, but despite having the wind knocked out of him, he managed to grab the taser at his right hip and swing it online. The darts shot out with a hissing pop of compressed air as he pulled the trigger, but Brandi effortlessly dodged them.

“Not so easy when my back isn’t turned, is it?”

Mitchell grabbed the second taser, but before he could bring it on target, Brandi kicked it from his hand. The darts discharged and struck the ceiling overhead.

Mitchell scrambled back, trying to get some distance between himself and Brandi, but she was too fast. She grabbed him by the front of his tactical vest and effortlessly lifted him from the floor, throwing him down the corridor. He smacked into the wall hard enough to make stars dance before his eyes, but he managed to keep his feet.

As Mitchell struggled to clear his head, Brandi un-slung the two G36s and dropped them to the floor. She wanted to kill him with her bare hands, to feel his bones shatter as she extracted her vengeance.

Mitchell drew the stun batons from his belt as Brandi stalked forward and triggered them so she could see the electricity arc between the electrodes. Brandi hesitated, and a smile spread across Mitchell’s face. He thrust forward with the left baton, and as Brandi dodged aside and parried with her right arm, he triggered the charge. The device was equipped with electrodes along the shaft to deliver a shock in case an opponent attempted to grab the baton. The shock was far weaker than that delivered at the tip, and the contact was brief, but Brandi still cried out and felt her right side go numb for an instant. Brandi stumbled away clumsily and barely managed to avoid Mitchell’s follow up with the right baton.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Mitchell said.

Brandi centered herself mentally, drawing on her energy reserves to shake off the stun effect. She felt her coordination return, but knew she could not do it many more times; her reserves were dangerously taxed from holding Melissa’s form for so long. She knew she needed to finish him quickly, but that fact warred with her desire to make him suffer before she killed him.

Mitchell attacked again and was surprised as Brandi spun about, knocking both the stun batons from his hands with a spinning kick. He leapt back and drew the collapsible batons, snapping them to full extension and delivering two hard blows across Brandi’s back. She pitched forward and dove, rolling and spinning to her feet as Mitchell advanced.

Ignoring the batons, Brandi took two more blows to her left side as her hands flashed out, raking across Mitchell’s chest. There was a tearing sound, and he felt a burning pain and recoiled. As he looked down, he saw four crisscrossing rents in his vest and felt warm blood spreading down his chest. He looked at Brandi, and his eyes widened as he saw her standing there, her nails extended to their full three inches and glistening with blood.

“What the hell are you?” he said.

“The Forerunners called it the Destroyer, Mitchell, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Brandi said, her voice low and menacing. “I’m going to rip you into little pieces for what you did to my parents.”

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Mitchell asked, the spring steel batons weaving an intricate pattern in the air before him. “I was just doing what I was told. The Man and Mercer were part of it too.”

“They’ll get theirs,” Brandi said. “But you … I know your record; De oppresso liber - To liberate the oppressed - do you remember that?”

Mitchell stared at her. It had been years since he had borne that motto as a member of the 5th Special Forces.

“‘I, Carl Evan Mitchell, do solemnly swear,” Brandi recited, “that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.’ - Do you remember those words?

“You broke the code, Mitchell; you chose to follow men who were against everything you swore to protect. You murdered my parents for them, and now you are going to die.”

There was real fear in Mitchell’s eyes now as Brandi’s words sunk in. He had counted on her sense of honor to protect him, but that very honor now demanded that she kill him. When he’d discarded his gun, he had done so thinking she would not attack with lethal force, but now he wished he had kept the weapon. He knew his only chance was to get inside her head.

“I always knew there was a real killer in you,” Mitchell said.

“You’ll find out just how real soon enough,” Brandi said.

“I bet your girlfriend would be proud of you.”

Brandi stopped as though she had been struck, and an instant later she was, as Mitchell caught her in the stomach with a powerful kick that doubled her over. Clasping his hands together, he brought his fists down on the back of her head and drove her to the floor and then spun away.

With a guttural cry of rage, Brandi picked herself up from the floor and spun about. She saw too late that Mitchell had retrieved one of the stun batons as he thrust it into her stomach and pressed the trigger.

*****

Melissa was escorted to the compound by a pair of Marines. She was still getting used to the idea that she was a little perturbed at having been left out of the action. With Brandi’s warrior genes a part of her, she had felt a powerful urge to do something during the battle. Still, she knew that, warrior genes or not, she did not have the training necessary.

As they neared the gate, they paused to allow two Marines and a corpsman past, carrying an unconscious Ryan on a litter. The corpsman looked up and smiled at Melissa.

“He’ll be fine, Miss,” he said. “We’re evacing him to a trauma center in Vegas.”

Melissa smiled, relieved that Ryan would be all right. As she and her escorts continued towards the main building, her smile broadened as she reflected on how cute the corpsman was, not to mention her two escorts. Maybe….

~ Whoa girl, get a grip, a little too much Brandi coming through. ~

Melissa found Matt by the freight elevator, having a bullet graze to his arm treated by another Marine corpsman. Matt looked up at her, and Melissa could tell that he was angry, and she had a pretty good idea why.

“You want to explain that to me?” he asked, pointing to the display next to the controls for the elevator. Melissa walked over and read the words on the screen.

Sorry, but I need a little privacy; I’ll let you down when I’m finished….

“I can’t tell you exactly,” Melissa said. “I felt something earlier; she’s in pain, terrible awful pain.”

“If she’s hurt, why won’t she let us help?”

“Not physical pain,” Melissa said. “She learned something, and now all she wants is one thing. She wants to kill whatever caused that pain.”

“You mean she’s out of control?” Matt asked.

“No, I mean she’s hurting,” Melissa snapped. “It feels just like it did when I was told my parents had been killed, but there’s a rage connected to the grief. I think she….”

Whatever Melissa thought was cut off as her mind was suddenly awash in sensation. The empathic link between her and Brandi seemed to crystallize into perfect clarity, and she could see as though she were looking through Brandi’s eyes. She saw the baton in Mitchell’s hand, felt the charge of current surge into Brandi’s body and felt her lover reach down for the strength to resist it, only to find there was nothing left, at least nothing close to what she needed to overcome the current surging through her nervous system.

~ She’s exhausted, but I’m not. ~

Not knowing how to do it, only knowing it could be done, Melissa concentrated, focusing the energy within her into the link. For an instant, it was as though she had traded places with Brandi as the current from the baton flowed back through the link and into her. Melissa screamed as her body went rigid and then collapsed to the floor.

*****

Mitchell’s triumphant smile faded as Brandi slapped the baton aside with her left hand and thrust her right forward, hand open, into his chest. The blow was like a powerful piston, knocking Mitchell back against the wall. The baton flew from his hand, and he dropped to the floor – right next to the weapons Brandi had dropped earlier. He grabbed one of the G36Cs and stabbed it towards Brandi, snapping the trigger back.

Brandi dove away from the line of fire, but Mitchell held the trigger down and tracked towards her. There was only one option, so she sprang to her feet and ran. She made it around a corner and flattened herself against the wall, waiting for Mitchell to pursue. Instead, she saw a small round object hit the wall opposite her and bounce to the floor at her feet.

Brandi’s mind instantly shifted into high gear; the grenade had a five second fuse, and she calculated the flight time from Mitchell’s position to be two seconds. It had a lethal radius of five meters and a casualty radius of fifteen. She could sprint at slightly better than the world record pace for the mile, about twenty-four feet per second. Figuring in her acceleration, she knew she could easily cover the fifteen meters in less than three seconds.

The calculations took less than a hundredth of a second, and Brandi was in motion. She reached the edge of the casualty radius and dove forward, tucking herself into a tight ball as the grenade detonated. Even though the effective radius was fifteen meters, the grenade could throw shrapnel over two-hundred meters, and she felt several impacts against her armor, but none had the necessary velocity to penetrate. Leaping to her feet, she reversed her direction and ran back to the corner. She already knew before she rounded it that Mitchell was not there. She reached out with her senses, but her range seemed to be limited. Melissa had somehow given her a boost of power, but she was still far from full strength, and it was apparently affecting her enhanced senses.

“Go ahead and run,” she whispered. “You’ll only die tired.”

*****

“There has to be something we can do!” Susan said, her voice heavy with frustration.

“I suspect Brandi intended to keep you locked in here,” Barbara told her.

The two scientists turned as someone began pounding on the door. Even had they wanted to open it, there was nothing they could do, so they stepped back behind the desk, and Barbara lifted her pistol. The pounding stopped and was quickly followed by gunshots as bullets tore through the locking mechanism. The door crashed open, and Evan Mitchell stormed into the office.

Mitchell looked like hell, his chest torn and bleeding and his face bruised and swollen. It did not take much for the two women to figure out that Brandi had found him, but he had somehow managed to escape.

“She’s still loose, and I need your help to stop her,” Mitchell said. Susan drew in a breath to speak, but was stopped as Barbara put a hand on her arm.

“What do you expect us to do?” Barbara asked. “She’s apparently managed to cow your entire security force into submission.”

“I’ll deal with them later, fucking cowards,” Mitchell said. “Right now, I need an edge. I need you to use that machine on me.”

“You know the GMU is damaged and incapable of creating a Genomorph,” Barbara said. “Even if it were, you don’t fit the profile.”

“I don’t want to be a chick,” Mitchell growled. “You can use it to boost me though, right? Make me stronger and faster than I am now. I almost had her; I just need a boost to give her a surprise. She’s wearing down.”

“Mr. Mitchell, that would require a level of programming that may be beyond us,” Susan said. “The basic cycle will heal your wounds and optimize your body, but that is far from what you want.”

“We have actually learned a lot more about the machine since you left us, Susan,” Barbara said. “I did manage to put together a program to enhance a person physically.”

Susan looked at Barbara, wondering what she was up to. Even if they made the modifications Mitchell wanted, the machine would put him to sleep for several hours so his body could adjust.

“I have been out of the loop for a while,” Susan said.

“The procedure could be dangerous, Mitchell,” Barbara said. “It hasn’t been tested yet.”

“If you don’t do something, she’s going to kill me!” Mitchell shouted.

“Very well, shall we go?” Barbara said. “Fortunately, the GMU lab has an independent security system; I doubt she locked it out as she seemed to be rather anxious to find you.”

As the three entered the corridor, Susan turned to Mitchell.

“Which way did you come?” she asked. Mitchell pointed left, the shortest route to the stairwell from the office.

“She’ll be close behind you,” Susan said. “If we take the long way back to the stairs, we should be able to stay at the edge of her detection range and get around her.”

Mitchell nodded, thinking it was a good thing that Susan was on their side now. Her knowledge of the girl’s capabilities would be invaluable.

“How did you get past the lock out on the stairwell?” Barbara asked as they moved.

“The same way I got into your office,” Mitchell replied. “The locks will stand up to pistol rounds, but a rifle can punch through them. I blasted the lock on every landing so she won’t be sure where I went.”

They reached the stairwell and made it down to level five without encountering Brandi, and Susan breathed a mental sigh of relief. Trying to outmaneuver her was a daunting task, and Susan had relied on the fact that she was running on pure rage and might not be thinking clearly. Whatever the reason, it had worked, and a few minutes later they reached the GMU chamber. Barbara placed her eye before the retinal scanner, and the door opened with a hiss.

“Take your clothes off and get on the table,” Barbara said as she and Susan moved towards the control room.

“I thought that was unnecessary,” Mitchell said.

“Technically, it is,” Barbara told him. “However, the kind of modification you want will result in significantly increased muscle mass. Your clothes will likely be shredded.”

It was obvious that the idea of having muscles big enough to burst from his clothing appealed to Mitchell as he began rapidly undressing. By the time Barbara had the GMU started, he was naked and lying on the table inside the crystal chamber. A few seconds later, he slipped into a near coma as the machine relaxed him completely.

“What are you planning?” Susan asked.

“The only way to stop Brandi from killing him is to remove the target,” Barbara said. “I think Mr. Mitchell needs a fresh start and a new perspective on life.”

Barbara began entering the parameters for the transformation sequence into the control panel while Susan watched.

“This is practically the same thing as killing him,” Susan said when she saw the extent of the changes Barbara was programming in. Barbara had activated a program that Susan had not even been aware of, and it was allowing her to create a detailed transformation matrix.

“Some might see it that way,” Barbara said. “He certainly has earned it for what he did. This way, Evan Mitchell may cease to exist, but he will have an opportunity to do things over and perhaps not become such a vile person.”

Barbara finished programming the sequence, and her hand moved towards the activation pad.

“No, let me,” Susan said. “Brandi is not going to like this; I want her anger directed at me if it is going to be at anyone.”

Barbara nodded, and Susan closed her eyes and touched the glowing pad.