Oath

By Maya Perez

Helpful prodding by Wendy Dinsmore

 

 

 

 

            "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"  Ken jabbed at yet another Galactor throat.  Would there be no end to them?

            Jun landed beside him and kicked a man in the face on their right.  "We're running out of time."

            "I know."  There were only three other uniformed goons in the broad hallway.  With a flick of his arm, Ken sent his boomerang flying and brought them down.  "Let's move!"

            The two rushed in a blur down the corridor. 

            When did they set the explosives?  Ten, fifteen minutes ago?  It was bad enough this particular base was more of a maze than usual, but guards poured out to slow them down almost every inch of the way back.  He hoped Joe and the others were having better luck.  Now if they could only get out of here in time...

            As if to answer his question a tremor coursed through the floor.

            "Crap!"  They ran even faster.

            The tremors intensified, trying to shake them about.  A wall of sound roared abruptly over them.  Ken saw Jun say something, but wasn't able to make it out.  Cracks spread like lightning over the ceiling, walls, and floor.  Then the whole room wrenched. 

            Ken stumbled, fighting to keep his footing.  Dust swept in like a storm.  Coughing, he tried to get back to his teammate, his eyes watering.  "Jun!"

            He felt more than heard the sound as it was absorbed by the rest of the chaos around them.  Before he could become more than aware of it, however, something slammed into the small of his back and drove him to the floor with terrific force.

            His helmeted head slammed into the concrete making his vision spin.  He gave a grunt of protest as the air was smashed from of his lungs.  His whole body vibrated as the floor continued to tremble with wave after wave of violence, but in only minutes, the tremors eventually grew less and less in force until all became still.

            His lungs burned as he tried to breathe, the air filled with even more dust.  He went into another fit of coughing.  "J-Jun, where are you?"  His ears continued to ring.  If she answered him, he didn't hear it.

            Ken tried to move and felt his back burn.  He glanced carefully over his shoulder, sure he was pinned by whatever hit him.  A large strut lay separated from the wall and ceiling behind him.  Yet another piece of falling debris had kept it from crushing him in two.  There was at least three feet of clearance between him and the beam that brought him down. 

            He tried to move again, but found that his legs weren't responding.  He looked around for his missing teammate, trying not to think of what it might mean.  "G-3!"

            Still getting no response, he brought his wristcomm forward.  "This is G-1.  Team, respond."  His only answer was static. 

            There was movement off to his left.  Jun stumbled into his line of sight, her white wings yellowed with settling dirt.  Her right arm hung limply at her side.  A trickle of blood dripped off her stained glove to the floor.

            "Ken!"  She spotted him on the ground and rushed over.  "Are you all right?"

            He swallowed hard and ignored the question.  "You need to get out of here.  There's bound to be some secondary explosions and this place is already unstable.  There might also be survivors."

            "Yes, fine.  As soon as you get up we'll leave." 

            Ken noticed her pupils were slightly dilated as she knelt down next to him.  That, added to her curt response, indicated at least a minor concussion.  Her eyes were also pinched at the corners with pain, and her lips were a thin, pale line.  Things were looking worse by the second.  Yet he felt strangely calm, though he was sure he should be anything but at the moment.  "I can't."

            "What? Why not?"  She coughed then her eyes met his.  For the first time, she truly focused on him.  "Something is wrong."

            "Yes.  And I need you to go get help."

            She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.  "Go?"

            "The others are waiting.  You need to find them and bring them back."

            Jun opened her eyes again.  "I can carry you."

            "You can't."  A low tremor coursed through the floor dropping more dust on top of them.  Ken felt it through his arms and chest, even hips, but below that, nothing.  Fear nipped at the back of his mind but he shoved it aside.  One thing at a time -- he needed to take things one problem at a time.  "You're hurt.  And you have to be able to protect yourself.  You're not safe here."

            She frowned at him as if not comprehending what he said.  "I can do it."

            He grabbed her uninjured arm and brought her close.  "I can't be...moved, all right?  You need to bring help."

            Her eyes grew wide.  He could see the pieces finally clicking together in her mind.  "Oh.  Oh!  I'll find the others and bring them right away!"  Jun moved to get up, but Ken kept his hold on her arm and brought her to a stop.

            "You'd better take this with you."  He let her go and reached for his bracelet.  Only the skin on his upper body prickled as the connection was severed and his uniform returned to its civilian mode.  "Here."

            "But, Ken..."

            "Take it!"  Maybe he wasn't all that calm after all. 

            Hesitantly, she did as he bid her.  "I could stay here with you.  Protect you.  The others will find us.  You know they will."

            He shook his head.  "The wristcomm's not working.  And you're injured.  You need treatment.  I'd rather give Katse only one sitting duck instead of two."

            "Still..."

            "G-3, this an order and is not open to debate.  Get the hell out of here!  Our secrets can't be allowed to fall into Galactor hands.  Now go!"

            Tears glinted in her eyes, but she said nothing else.  Jun stood up, swaying on her feet.  "Ken, you'd, you'd better be here when I get back." 

            He watched her stumble away in what he hoped was the right direction.  She had to make it out.  Ken rested his head on his arm, abruptly dizzy.  His throat felt thick.  She had to make it out.

 

 

 

#

 

 

            Voices...a blurred face.  His throat so dry -- full of dust and grit.  Coughing, pain.  Darkness.

            Twilight.  Something is wrong.  He cannot move!  A collar around his throat, a weight pulling back his head.  The smell of blood, death.  Screams of pain.  He wasn't supposed to be here!  Struggle.  A prick on his arm as voices wash over him.  Dizziness and then more darkness.

            Drowning beneath the cloying scent of oranges.  Heat, humidity, a deep thrumming surrounding him, stabbing through him.  Grabbing, reaching for solid consciousness.  Slipping.  Falling back once more into the abyss.

 

 

#  

 

            "It, it was around here.  I'm sure of it!"  Jun stumbled through the cracked corridor, her slinged arm momentarily throwing her off balance. 

            Joe reached forward and helped steady her.  His teammate seemed totally unaware of his interference, her gaze scanning the lamp lit passage for any signs of their missing friend.

            "Neechan, I'll look over here!"  Jinpei zipped off to their right, his light bobbing along the far wall.

            "Ken!  Ken!  Can you hear me?"  Jun wandered on.

            Ryu came up behind Joe, a folded stretcher strapped to his back.  "Should she even be here?  She got banged up pretty good."

            Joe snorted.  "You gonna try and stop her?  I'm not.  And I know that Security Forces captain never will again either."  He shook his head.  "Best we can do is find him ASAP and get them both the heck out."

            Ryu squinted at the surrounding darkness.  "Yeah, but it's been hours.  Will he be here?  I mean, we haven't found any Galactor bodies or anything so far.  And some of the UN people were saying they often don't."

            "Bodies don't just disappear."  Joe threw a glare in his direction.

            Ryu tried not to cower beneath the disapproving look.  "I know that!  But still, you know how paranoid Katse is, always blowing everything up.  What if even the bodies have self-destruct mechanisms?"

            Dust flared up around them as they moved around a collapsed piece of wall.  The air smelled stale.

            "Paranoid he might be, but I don't think even his goons would put up with that.  Katse might be too tempted to blow them up out of hand."  Joe waved his hand in a dismissing gesture.  "He probably has cleanup crews of his own, so the UN can't get a hold of too many of his secrets."

            "How would that work?"

            Before Joe could attempt to speculate, a shrill scream cut across the jagged hallway.  "Ken!"

            Joe and Ryu rushed forward.  They found Jun beside a fallen strut, which was propped up by a piece of debris.  "Jun, what's wrong?  Did you find him?"

            Her lamp had fallen from her hand, totally forgotten.  She stared wide-eyed at the ground beneath the strut, her hands over her mouth.

            "Jun?"  Joe touched her on the shoulder.  She turned in his direction a tortured expression on her face.

            "He was here."  She gulped down air, obviously struggling to hold herself together.  "I swear to you, he was here!"

            "Are you sure?" Ryu asked, turning where he stood.  "Here?"

            Doubt rose in her eyes then.  "I, I..." She stared at her hands.

            "Neechan!  I found blood!"  Jinpei's voice filtered back toward them from down the tunnel. 

            As Ryu and Joe turned their lamps in that direction, they spotted a trail of dried blood nearby leading back almost to the exact spot where Jun stood.  A small groan escaped her lips as she saw them.  "Ken was here.  Right here."

            Joe's jaw tensed.  "He's not here anymore."

 

 

#

 

 

            Disorientation hit Ken like a slap in the face.  Vague memories and nightmares teased the edge of his consciousness.  He was on his back, though he clearly remembered falling on his stomach.  The area around him was dim, but the air was clean, not gritty as before.  He was glad the smell of oranges was gone.  Oranges?   He took a shuddering breath, dismissing the strange thought.  He was alive, that was all that mattered at the moment.

            A shy smile tugged at one side of his face.  It meant Jun had made it!  She'd been able to get help.  He glanced eagerly to either side sure one of his teammates would be keeping vigil over him.  He found no one.  And instead of the familiar white walls he expected, he found a metal one to his right.  On his left, only a few feet away, sat a metal-framed bed with a man whose face was covered by bandages.  Raising his head, Ken could see that beyond him was another bed and then another and another, nine in all.  The smile died.

            Moans and soft groans filled the air.  The scent of antiseptic and blood lay heavy all around.  A parallel set of beds mirrored the row to his left.  Halfway down, a huge red figure was painted into the plain metal wall - a familiar demon face, the symbol for Galactor.

            A cold spasm of dread settled deep in Ken's gut.  This was totally wrong.  He wasn't supposed to be here.  He tried to sit up, almost yanking the IV stand connected to a tube taped to his arm, and told his legs to move, but they did nothing.  He wasn't able to get his upper body to a sitting position and fell back down.  Panic tore at him even as he fought to keep it away.  His uniform was armored, it had lessened the blow from the falling strut, and fortune kept him from being crushed afterward.  He'd hoped his inability before was due to the shock of the impact.  But now it looked as if he...

            "Hey there, chap.  No need to fret."

            Ken's gaze snapped to the right.  He tried to sit up again and managed to keep himself propped up somewhat with his elbows.  He recognized the speaker's accent as British, but the look of the man still startled him.  He was tall and thin, with a long, age-lined face, small square glasses, and close cropped hair with a sprinkle of white here and there.  What caught him by surprise, however, was the color of his skin.  It was a deep dark chocolate, a total rarity back home. 

            "I've been treating you with corticosteroids for spinal swelling, but it would still be safest at this point if you didn't try to sit up or move around a lot."

            "You're a doctor?"  Only now did Ken notice the worn but clean physician's coat and the stethoscope peeking out of a side pocket.  His heart was pounding.

            "Depends on whom you ask."

            "Excuse me?"

            The man gave him a half smile.  "Never mind, chap.  You might say it's an inside joke.  Now please, lie back and try to relax.  You're safe here."

            Ken glanced around again and realized, as far as he could tell, there were no guards anywhere in the room.  It was no guarantee, however, that he wasn't under some kind of surveillance.  Maybe they'd not posted any men because they knew he didn't have the means to get out.  His heart pounded faster.  "You mentioned my spine..."

            "I also mentioned you should lie down."  An arched brow raised in Ken's direction.  Folded arms soon followed as the latter did nothing.

            Under the quiet barrage, Ken realized the man would tell him nothing until he capitulated.  Not having much to lose, he gingerly lowered himself flat on the bed.

            "Wonderful."  Down came the crossed arms.  "It would seem you took a hard blow to the lower back, at the edge of the Thoracic and the Lumbar regions of your spine.  X-rays showed there was no actual damage to the bones, which is very fortunate.  The spine itself though is swollen and that's more than serious on its own."

            Ken didn't like where this was going, but he had to know.  He needed to understand what he had to deal with to get the hell out of there.  "How serious?"

            "Would you prefer the sugar coated or the non-coated version?"

            Ken closed his eyes for a moment, panic stabbing him again as he realized this had the potential of being very very bad.  He tried to make his voice as steady as he could as he gave the doctor his answer.  "No sugar."

            "All right."

            Ken thought he saw a note of approval in the man's eyes.  Surely he imagined it.

            "Injuries like these are known to affect transmissions from the brain through the spinal cord, causing anything from mild to severe paralysis and sensation deprivation.  Now that you're awake, we can check the extent to which you've been affected.  Even if it ends up being what is called a "complete" injury, there's a chance of some sensation or movement returning after a week or so, once the swelling has come down.  Depending on how much improvement there is, we can use that as an indicator of whether there will be an eventual recovery and how long it might take or whether there will be none at all."

            Ken's hands bunched into fists on the bed's starched sheets.  "I see."  He didn't need this man to test him, he already knew what they would find.  His situation had been horribly clear before he was ever brought here.  But might he recover?  Or would he find out in a week's time he would be paralyzed forever, trapped in a Galactor hospital?  What would he do then?  Worse yet, dare he believe anything they told him as to his progress or lack of it?  For all he knew this was some twisted charade.  He could be only temporarily paralyzed, yet Katse and his goons could have made sure it became permanent and were even now getting their jollies at his torment-until they got tired of just watching and then they would come to gloat.

            "Should we begin?"  The dark man's voice was quiet, his eyes filled with understanding, as if knowing exactly what was going through Ken's mind.

            He didn't trust himself to speak, so he only nodded.

            "My name is Doctor Marcus, by the way, Daniel Marcus."  He gently pulled the sheet up at the far side of the bed and folding the end, draped it over the jutting metal footboard.  This was done in such a way the doctor could see and reach for the patient's feet, but to where Ken couldn't see what the doctor was doing.  "You're currently down as a ‘John Doe'.  Is there another name I should list on the chart instead?"

            Marcus didn't look at him as he spoke the last.  Ken frowned, finding it a very queer way to ask someone's name.  Was he missing something here?  Or was this man giving him an out?  And if so, why?  "I...I don't remember."

            "Not surprising.  You do have a rather nasty bump on the head.  Lucky you were wearing a helmet, though the report indicated you weren't found wearing one, not even a uniform.  But with the rush of rescuing who we could before the world UN Security Forces arrived, it wouldn't be the first time some information got marked down wrong."

            Ken's jaw clenched.  Was this man toying with him?  What was this about?  He made himself take a few deep breaths and forced his body to relax.  Whatever Marcus was up to, he possessed no options at this point but to keep silent.  Sooner or later whatever the man was after would show itself.  Maybe he could even use this to his advantage.  "Where am I?  What hospital is this?"

            "Were nothing quite so fancy as that.  It's only a high end clinic of sorts." 

            The way he said it seemed rather odd, but Ken couldn't quite place how.

            "This is unit 45879-B, not that that will probably mean anything to you.  Would you try moving your right leg for me please?"

            Ken noted the obvious change in topic, but nevertheless complied and stared at his limb, bidding it to move.  As far as he could tell it did nothing.  He got the same result with the left.

            "How about wiggling your toes?"

            Ken focused on making them carry out his commands.  With his feet hidden behind the sheet made tent, he possessed no idea if he was successful.  He didn't feel them move, if they even did, and Marcus's face betrayed nothing.

            "I am going to test your sensory input now.  Let me know if you feel something."

            Ken stared up at the metal ceiling concentrating with all his might.  There was nothing.  He sensed the doctor move around the bed to one side and then the other, his hands beneath the sheet.  Still nothing.

            A sense of panic, helplessness, and fear washed all around him.  He was trapped, doomed.  What the hell was he going to do?  What could he do?

            "Ow!"  The pinch at his hip snapped him out of his welling thoughts.  He sent a dirty look in Marcus's direction.  "That hurt!"

            "Felt that, did you?"  The doctor's eyes were bright.

            "Y-yes, yes, I did."  Ken was amazed at how pleased he was about it.  At least not all parts of him were dead.

            "Try to turn toward me.  Take it very slowly - we don't want to run the risk of aggravating anything.  Stop if there's any sensation of pain whatsoever."

            Ken found that he could do as the doctor asked.  Though his legs were dead weights, his hips obeyed him instantly.  He felt almost giddy from finally being able to do something he was asked.

            "Excellent!  Now the other way."

            He proved able to do that as well.  His triumph soured, however, as he realized it really wouldn't do him much good in his current situation.

            "Well that's some pleasant news, at least."

            "How so?"

            Marcus gave him a knowing smile.  "It means you're unlikely to have problems with your bowels and urinary functions.  However this turns out in the end, it will be a far cry from what it could have been."

            Ken said nothing, not having thought there could be other complications.  Though it was hard, he tried to feel grateful.  The things Marcus talked about would have made getting out of here even more of a problem.  And it was already bigger than he might be able to handle as it was.

            "We'll need to watch for any unexpected muscle spasms.  There have been none while you've been unconscious, which is a good sign.  We immobilized the spine during transport, but since you've arrived it hasn't been necessary.  Luckily we have some traction equipment here if it becomes an issue."  Marcus took the sheet from its perch at the end of the bed and retucked it around the thin mattress.  Then taking a pen from his coat pocket, he scratched some notes on the chart hanging from the end of the bed.

            "So what happens now?"  Ken tried to keep the question casual, though he felt anything but.

            "Now?  You will take your medications, rest, and allow your body to recuperate.  Barring any complications, there's nothing else to be done at the moment.  In about a week, we'll do more x-rays and tests, and then we'll see what we shall see." 

            Ken sighed, not liking it one bit, and knowing there wasn't a darn thing he could do about it.  He had the feeling he would come to clearly understand Joe's fervent dislike of hospitals very soon. 

            "There's a call button cord hooked on the side of the bed.  If you have any problems or need anything, please use it.  We're slightly understaffed, but someone should come by in not too long."

            Ken watched the doctor as he moved away with a slight limp.  He stopped at each of the beds going crisscross through the room, giving a word or two to the patients as he examined their charts.  An orderly and a couple of nurses came in not long after and tended to several of the patients as directed by Marcus. 

            After a while, however, all of them left, so Ken had only his troubled thoughts and a room of injured enemies for company.  Neither was appealing in the least, so he gave up and slept.

 

 

#

            "Hakase, you have to do something."  Jun paced in front of Nambu's desk, her eyes red and her face unnaturally pale.  The others stood not far behind her, their expressions grim.

            "I assure you I am doing everything humanly possible to find Ken."  Impassive eyes stared at them from behind the wide lensed glasses.  "No one wants to find him as badly as I do.  You should know that."

            "Well obviously it's not enough!"  Joe took several steps toward the desk, finding his anger and frustration getting the better of him.  "He's been missing for over twenty-four hours.  The longer he's gone the higher the likelihood we will never find him.  Let us go look for him!"

            Nambu's stare riveted to him.  He leaned back in his chair for a moment as if the waves of antagonism coming from Joe were nothing more than he'd expected.  "And where exactly do you suggest you go looking?  The UN's forces are still sifting through the wreckage searching for any information they can find.  There was nothing we could use at the scene of Ken's disappearance.  So again I ask you, where exactly do you propose to begin?"

            "To hell with that!  At least we'd be doing something!"  Joe turned away from Nambu and threw himself down on the nearest seat, arms crossed.  His mounting displeasure was plain for anyone who cared to look.

            The doctor sat forward, placing his forearms on the desk.  "The last thing we need is to call attention to the fact Ken is missing or that we're searching for him.  Keeping the enemy unaware of who they may have picked up is paramount."

            "But Hakase, we don't know if they don't know."  Ryu glanced up shyly from where he stood by the door.

            Jun continued pacing before the desk, looking more distressed than before.

            "You're correct, of course.  Yet chances are they are not aware of his identity just yet."  Nambu's brown-eyed stare shifted to each of them.  "If it were known, the likelihood of Katse not advertising it to the world would be slim."

            "Then what can we do, Hakase?"  Jinpei's lip quivered as he spoke.

            "We can only wait.  Give our other resources time to find some leads.  Give Ken time.  He will let us know where he is if he is able."

 

 

#

 

 

            "So how many?  Make a guess."

            The gruff, unfriendly voice snapped Ken awake.  He took a quick glimpse to see who was there, then closed his eyes again and pretended to be asleep. 

            He recognized Marcus, but not the man with him, the owner of the rough voice.  Not as garishly dressed as most base commanders he'd seen, the wiry man wore a black body suit and a blood red helmet with trailing streamers, his eyes hidden by a darkened visor.

            "It's too soon to tell at this point.  I've only had a few days."  Marcus sounded strained.  "We should discuss this in my office at any case, not here."

            "And why shouldn't it be here?"  The man never gave Marcus a chance to answer.  "All of them are well aware of the stipulations in their employment contracts."  His voice echoed in the long room.

            Ken felt the tension go up around him, though he wasn't sure of the reason for it.  He decided to risk slitting his eyes open.

            "I'll be ready to go back to work in just a few days, sir!"  This came from a man four beds down the other side of the aisle.  Weaker voiced but similar sentiments echoed the first.

            The costumed Galactor smiled.  There was nothing pleasant about it.  "You see, Marcus, they understand their situation perfectly."

            The doctor's reply was a barely concealed hiss.  "Putting such stress on them is not going to help them get better.  Or would you rather none of them returned to service?"

            "You forget your place, doctor.  You wouldn't even be practicing now if not for our forbearance.  It would do you well not to forget that before you go questioning your betters."  The Galactor's streamers whipped about as he turned around and left the room.

            Marcus stood there quietly, his spectacled gaze traveling down the room, a slow sigh escaping his lips.  With it went the tension coiled about him like a cloak.  As he turned to follow the other man, Ken stayed perfectly still.  He didn't miss the doctor's odd expression or the sad look in his eyes as he stared at his prone form for a moment before going on his way.

 

 

#

 

 

            "John, it's time for your medication."

            Ken awoke from a light doze.  Seeing who it was that brought his medicine, he turned instantly alert.  "Dr. Marcus."

            The doctor set a small tray on the bed then cranked the side of it to lift Ken into a semi sitting position.  "Any problems so far?"

            "None.  Just trying to rest as you said."

            "Excellent."  He actually looked pleased.  "Though I know you don't particularly think so right now, you seem to be quite a lucky young chap."

            "As you say."

            "Here you go."  Marcus handed a small glass of water and a paper cup with a couple of pills.  "More of the corticosteroids for swelling." 

            Having little choice if he wanted a half chance to get out of this place, Ken swallowed the pills.  He just hoped they were what they were supposed to be.

            "I also brought some applesauce for you.  Figured we'd go easy on your system and make sure everything is working as it should before we get to more normal meals."  He shifted the small tray and set it across Ken's lap.  "One of the nurses will come back for it in a little while and set the bed back down.  Though if you start experiencing any pain or discomfort whatsoever, use the call button.  This low an angle shouldn't be an issue, but you never know."

            "Doc?"

            "Yes?"

            "Who was that man earlier?"  Ken kept his gaze focused on the doctor's face.

            "Noticed him did you?  He was being rather loud.  But then that seems to be his way."

            "Who was he?"

            Marcus took a moment to slide his glasses back into place.  It was a move very reminiscent of Nambu.  Guess he wasn't the only one to use the movement as a way to buy time.  "Personnel Captain, name of Blake."

            "I didn't quite understand what he was talking about before."

            Marcus looked away.  "It wasn't anything all that important."  He started to turn away from him.

            Ken lurched forward, one hand on his tray to keep it from tipping, the other grabbing the doctor's arm to keep him there.  A faint twinge rippled up his back at the movement.  "I have a feeling it was anything but.  Tell me."  He kept his voice low, sure this would be something Marcus wouldn't want the other patients overhearing.

            "Release me.  You're only hurting yourself by doing this."

            Ken only stared at him saying nothing.

            Marcus finally sighed and stepped close to the bed again so Ken could recline against it.  Ken's back twitched a couple of more times, but as he forced himself to relax, it quit.

            "Tell me."

            "Blake is in charge of redistribution once the organization has had a...setback.  Those with minor injuries were discharged within the first day of retrieval and have already returned to active duty.  Now it's his job to determine how many more will be returning to full service, who will need to be placed to other less demanding work, and those that would be best to...release so as not to tax the organization's resources."

            Ken nodded then suddenly realized what had just been said.  Anger flared inside him.  That they would treat their own people this way!  Though why was he surprised?  They showed little to no mercy to the general populous at large.  Why should they be any different to themselves?  The thought made him even angrier.  For despite even this, droves of men still joined Galactor. 

            Marcus mistook his silence for something else.  "Don't worry.  You won't be one of them."

            Ken gave him a frosty stare.  "No, I won't."

            The doctor nodded, not bothered by his cold tone, then looked out over the rest of the beds.  "Unfortunately, not all of those here will be so lucky."  He glanced at the bed on Ken's left.  "But I will do what I can.  I always do." 

            Ken didn't try to stop him when Marcus made to leave again.  Maybe not every one of them was a callous bastard.  More than ever he felt the need to bring Katse's organization to ruin.  In truth, the mastermind was only using the evil that was already out there, only focusing it to his own ends.  Didn't say much for the state of humanity's future though.

            He grabbed the spoon from the tray and dipped it into the applesauce, wanting something to replace the rotten taste currently filling his mouth.  The fare was bland, but filling.  His hunger flared, as if it hadn't known it wanted food until he gave it some.  He wiped out all that was there and even licked the bowl.  He drained the rest of the water in the glass.

            As he put the glass back on the tray, he blinked.  Why hadn't he noticed this before?  His gaze sat glued to his right wrist.  Instead of bare flesh, there was gauze wrapped all around it.  A simple patient bracelet sat atop it with a number designation.  He hadn't hurt his arm had he?  Though he wracked his brain to recall all that went on at the time of his injury, he couldn't remember anything happening to it.  It seemed fine when he removed his bracelet to give into Jun's keeping.  His bracelet...

            Had it been obvious he wore something on that wrist?  He couldn't remember.  Yet someone went through the trouble of bandaging it.  He rotated and flexed his wrist, proving there was nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.  So who bandaged it?  And why?  Was it more of Marcus's handiwork?  But again, why?

            Ken was sure Katse posted a permanent bounty on all the members of the ninja team some time ago.  There would be rewards and prestige for just giving information on any of them.  Who wouldn't want that in this cesspool of an organization? 

            "Are you done with that?"

            Ken was jolted out of his reverie.  A flat-faced nurse was staring at him curiously.  "Ah, yes, I'm done.  Thank you."

            "I'll need to put the bed down first.  Only take a moment."

            He watched her as she rolled the bed back down.  He wondered why someone in the medical field would willingly want to work in such a group.  Were the promises of money and position that good, or was it something else?  That was when he remembered something Blake said to Marcus.  There was a story there, of that he was sure.

            "Need anything?" the nurse asked.

            "No, I'm fine."

            As she picked up the tray, he noticed there was something in her right hand.  He couldn't see what it was.

            "Oops!"  She dropped the tray on his legs, the bowl and glass bouncing onto the bed. 

            He felt none of it, which was why he wasn't distracted and saw her poke a sharp pin against the side of his leg through the sheet. 

            "What are you doing?"  She was too far for him to grab, and while he could raise himself up to his elbows, he had no leverage with which to lift himself to a sitting position. 

            "So sorry!  It was an accident."  Her words and her expression far from matched.  She quickly placed the bowl and glass back on the tray, the object in her right hand back out of sight.  "No harm done, right?"

            She didn't wait for an answer but stepped away.

            What the hell was that about?  He tried to shift on his right to stare at his leg.  He could see the small hole where the pin went through.  Did she inject him with something?  How the heck could he tell?  He didn't feel anything. 

            Then it hit him.  Maybe that was the point.  Could she have been testing him to make sure he wasn't shamming his illness?  Was that what this was about?  What was going on?

            The nurse left the area with his tray, but was back several minutes later.  Ken watched her as she stopped here and there.  He noticed she seemed to suffer an awful lot of accidents. 

            The rest of the afternoon went past quietly and Ken dozed for most of it out of boredom and his healing injuries.  When the orderlies came by to serve dinner, they gave him more applesauce and soup as well.  Ken kept watch for the flat-faced nurse, but she didn't make an appearance. 

            A plump nurse came to see him about an hour after dinner.

            "Evening."

            Ken acknowledged her but said nothing. 

            "I understand you've been given some solids."

            He stared at her not quite sure where she was going with this. "Yes."

            "Well, they're bound to come out, you see.  So I need to set it up for them to have somewhere to go."

            It took him a moment to realize what she was saying.  When he did, he felt the heat rise up his neck and face. 

            She showed him a sloped plastic contraption.  "It's ergonomic.  Dr. Marcus says its placement won't irritate your spine.  There's really nothing to it.  Standard procedure."

            Ken stared at the strangely shaped bedpan, feeling even more embarrassed than before.

            "He said the catheter should stay for now.  Makes it easier for testing the urine whenever we need it."

            Ken nodded rapidly, hoping she wouldn't talk about this anymore.  It never occurred to him his injury would keep him from relieving himself on his own - hell, he'd never even thought about it! 

            "I'm going to place this for you, okay."

            "Fine."  Ken covered his face with his arm, still feeling his cheeks burning.   

            Was this what he could expect to go through the rest of his life?  His eyes burned, so he shut them tight before they got a chance to betray him.  This was not where he was supposed to be.  This was not what he was supposed to be doing!  His hand curled into a fist until his nails bit into the palm.

            "All done!  Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" 

            He ignored her, not trusting himself to speak.

            "I'll come check it in the morning and get you cleaned up if you need it.  Have a good night."

            Ken didn't move his arm away from his face until she was long gone. 

 

 

#

 

 

            He couldn't sleep.  Though Ken couldn't feel it, he was horribly aware of the bedpan beneath him.  His mind kept playing tricks on him, his imagination vividly imagining him shitting on himself.  He was only too keenly aware of every movement in his intestines, each shift screaming the inexorable conclusion of the evening. 

            The lighting was down to a dim twilight.  Snores rang softly from the far end of the room, an occasional groan here or there adding to the solitary intermittent sounds of the ventilation system. 

            The smell of antiseptic and putrefying wounds hung around him like vultures waiting for their chance.  He wanted to scream to rant to pummel his bed into metal filings, but he didn't.  He couldn't afford to bring attention to himself no matter how much he hated his situation and raged against it. 

            He tried to remember the five stages of grief -- Denial, Anger (oh yes, lots of that), Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.  They didn't feel like stages to him.  At times he felt nothing; at others it was the first four at once. But acceptance?  How was that supposed to happen?  The name made it sound as if he had a choice, yet he had none!  None!

            Movement to his left vied for his attention.  Like a coward, he slunk from his previous thoughts and narrowed his eyes trying to spy where it had come from.  Someone had entered the room from the far side.  It was the flat-faced nurse.  She was probably doing her nightly rounds, but he decided to watch her anyway.  It was better than the alternative.

            His vantage point wasn't the best, but at least she was taller than the beds so was easy to see.  She walked silently down the aisle glancing from bed to bed but didn't seem to actually be checking on any of them.  She stopped five beds down from Ken on the other side of the room. 

            She turned to look around her so Ken closed his eyes for several long seconds so she wouldn't know he was awake.  When he glanced her way again, she was leaning over the patient in the bed she'd stopped at.  Not able to tell what she was doing, Ken risked rising up on his elbows to get a better look.  His eyes grew wide and his pulse raced as he spotted the pillow she was pressing fervently over the wounded Galactor's face. 

            "Nurse!"

            He dropped down and reached for the call button, hoping this one wasn't actually the one on call.  He pressed the button with all his might while still yelling.  "Nurse!"

            The flat-faced woman stared his way, frozen, like a goon caught alone by the Condor in a dark corridor, then turned around and ran back the way she came.

            The other patients woke and questions started being thrown.  Ken ignored them all, still using the buzzer and calling for the nurse as loudly as he could.  Moments later, the plump woman whom he talked to before rushed into the room.

            "What's with the racket?  What is going on in here?"

            "The man on the fifth bed across from me, check on him!"

            She threw Ken a puzzled look but didn't question him, instead rushing to the bed indicated.

            He pushed himself up on his elbows and waited tensely as she checked the patient over.  The man might be his enemy, but that was no way to die.  It was one thing to be killed in combat, it was quite another to be murdered in your bed while helpless.  Now that he took the time to look, he noticed the patient's bed seemed to have some braces attached to the back and weights that hung from the front.  His neck was in a brace keeping him immobile.  His anger roared as he realized the cowardice of the flat-faced woman's actions.

            "He's not asleep, he's unconscious.  His pulse is thready.  What happened here?"  She half turned in Ken's direction.

            The other patients chimed in: "That's what we want to know!" "How the fuck is anyone supposed to get some rest around here?"  "Shut the hell up fools!"  "Why was the idiot screaming?"

            "Enough, all of you!"  The nurse's voice boomed across the room.  "I'm getting Dr. Marcus, he'll find out what's going on."

            She rushed out of the room even faster than she came in.

            Questions came flying at Ken, but he ignored them.  The man in the bed next to him turned on his side with a grimace just so he could look at him with his unbandaged eye. 

            "The one over here, doctor."  The plump nurse returned with a disheveled looking Marcus in tow.  His limp was more pronounced as he half ran to the victim's bed.  Doctor and nurse focused solely on their patient for the next several minutes. 

            After, Ken saw the two of them confer in quiet whispers, the plump nurse turning to point in his direction.  Marcus made his way to Ken's bedside.

            "John."

            "Doctor."

            "Care to tell me how you knew Rob was in trouble?" 

            Ken could see other questions crowding close behind the first in Marcus's eyes.  He signaled for him to come closer, only too aware of all the other eyes and ears on them in the room.

            Softly, to where only the doctor would hear, Ken said, "It was the flat-faced nurse."

            Marcus's brow furrowed.

            "She was suffocating him."

            The doctor jerked back as if bitten. 

            "There's more."

            Marcus shook his head.  "Not here.  Not now."  He didn't wait for an acknowledgement, just turned away to walk out to the middle of the room.

            "It seems John heard Rob chocking.  He may have gone a little overboard, but he was only trying to help."  Confidence radiated from him as he met the gaze of each patient.  "Rob is fine now.  So all is well.  I apologize for your interrupted sleep, but please try to get some rest.  Everything is fine."

            "Yeah, get help a little quieter next time, okay?  Schmuck."  Ken couldn't tell from whom the comment came from. 

            Marcus's gaze met his and he nodded, his look grim.  Then he and the nurse left the area.

            Slowly, after more mumbling and creaking of mattresses, the room quieted down as its occupants once more returned to sleep.  Ken stayed awake, guarding them for the rest of the night though they never knew it.

 

 

#

 

 

 

            Breakfast came and went as well as the embarrassment of having his bedpan checked, but Ken still saw no sign of Marcus.  He found his impatience growing.  Did the man care nothing for the information he had?  Ken would have given almost anything for the ability to get out of that bed and be able to go track him down.  At least the flat-faced nurse had not reappeared. 

            Around midmorning an orderly showed up at his bedside and he started undoing the brakes which kept the wheeled bed from moving.

            Ken didn't like the look of it.  "What are you doing?"

            "You got tests this morning."

            "No one said anything about running tests today."  Wouldn't the nurse have mentioned it?  "I want to talk to Dr. Marcus."

            The orderly stared at him with a blank expression for a moment then shrugged.  "Look, I'm just doing what I was told.  You can take it up with the doc later."  He undid the rest of the brakes.

            Ken's pulse picked up speed.  Did he have tests scheduled or was this something else?  The flat-faced nurse might have gotten it into her head to eliminate him as a witness.

            The orderly pulled the bed away from the wall and out into the middle of the room.

            Ken swallowed the fear that trickled in the back of his throat.  He didn't like the feeling.  If he were whole he would be in control, but as things stood he was a leaf in a river, helplessly dragged off by the current and unable to do anything until he reached a destination.

            The orderly got behind him and pushed the bed from there.  Ken wasn't sure whether to be grateful he could see where they were going or nervous that he couldn't really see the man behind him and what he might be doing.

            They turned right at the wall and not far down came to a large elevator.  Ken tensed, figuring if the orderly was going to do something, he might try it here, away from prying eyes.  The man only leaned against the elevator wall as they went up, whistling to himself as he totally ignored him.

            When the elevator came to a stop, the orderly pushed away from the wall and resumed his place behind the bed.  It was as if Ken didn't even exist.  He'd never felt so invisible in his life.  Was this what he might expect from now on?

            They followed a nondescript metal hallway down to a set of large swinging doors.  The orderly pushed the bed on through.  Ken almost audibly sighed in relief as he spotted Marcus inside studying a set of x-rays on a backlit wall.

            "Thank you, Jonas.  If you'll set the bed by the lamp that will be all."

            "Okay, doc."  The orderly wheeled the bed close to a giant contraption that looked like a mechanical claw, and after popping a couple of the brakes in place on the bed, left the room.

            Marcus stared at the x-rays until the doors quit swinging.  Then he strode to Ken's side, throwing a glance in the direction of the doors as if still not sure they were actually alone.  "I apologize for the subterfuge, but it seemed the easiest way to get us some privacy."  Marcus maneuvered expertly around the odd humming machine.

            "What is this thing?" 

            The doctor gave him a small smile.  "This is Baby.  A gift from a previous patient."  He caressed the overhanging part of the unit.  "Galactor may be many things, but the technology they use is without doubt utterly amazing.  This small machine is able to take x-rays, full body sonic scans, CAT scans, and more."  He stared down at Ken.  "She's helped save many lives."

            Ken wondered if he meant this in more than one way.  The machine's low level hum might also work against listening devices.   "Some of your people have been striving at taking them away."  He watched the doctor's expression sober. 

             "Tell me."

            "The flat-faced nurse, she wasn't just there to kill the one man.  She's been investigating all the patients."

            "What do you mean?" Marcus asked.

            Ken felt a kernel of his previous anger returning as he thought about this again.  "She was checking to make sure some of us weren't shamming.  I am also assuming she was second-guessing your prognosis and figuring which of the patients it'd be best to do without."

            He saw Marcus's dark skin pale.

            "How do you know this?"

            "Because she did it to me."  He pointed down to the side of his right leg.  "Check the sheet, you'll see where she punctured the cloth."

            Marcus bent down close and studied the sheet, then lifted it and inspected Ken's leg.  "That bloody bastard!" 

            He rushed to one of the tables in the room and brought out some antiseptic and a cotton ball.  Ken noticed the doctor's hands shook as he moved to dab some of the cleaner against his leg.

            "It's Blake.  It's got to be." The doctor closed his eyes for a moment, his body radiating tension.  "That he would go this far..."

            "I can help guard the people in my room.  But I need to be mobile.  Can you get me a wheelchair or crutches?  Anything?"

            Marcus turned to stare at him.  "Out of the question.  It's too soon.  You could do irreparable damage.  As it is you're lucky you don't need traction.  And that could change."

            Ken recalled the weights and collar Rob was being forced to wear and felt a cold shiver at the thought of being made that much more helpless.

            Marcus must have seen some of this on his face because his expression suddenly softened.  "I'm sorry."  He took off his glasses and rubbed at his face.  "I guess even after all these years, my bedside manner still needs some work."  He tried hard to smile.

            "I doubt I'm being the best of patients either, so I guess we're even." 

            This time the smile actually reached the doctor's eyes.  "Let's get those scans done then.  If the news is good enough, I might consider that chair in a few days."

 

 

 

#

 

 

 

            Everything was quiet for the next several days.  Ken fell into a routine of endless tedium, embarrassment, sleep, and weary watch keeping.  He saw no trace of the flat-faced nurse, and a younger looking woman soon joined the staff as a replacement.  A couple of the patients were moved out, his neighbor being one of them, but the rest remained. 

            Ken eavesdropped on what few conversations sprang up amongst the livelier of the patients.  It was from one of these he learned that Rob was marked as a quadriplegic, the outlook for any kind of recovery grim.  This only gave more weight to Ken's belief it was the reason he was marked for death.  The Kagaku Ninjatai was cursed at often, jests bouncing back and forth on how they would get payback.  Other curses though were for the organization, especially Katse, and his tendency to use the built-in self-destruct systems.  These curses, unlike the ones about the team, were only whispers in the dark.  Fear was an undercurrent they all tried to ignore.

            Ken worried about his friends.  Were they out there looking for him?  Did they think him dead?  Jun would be agonizing about ever having left him, though he'd ordered her to do it and she'd been in no position to do otherwise.  They wouldn't have the faintest idea how to find him.  He doubted there was a trail at all.  And he didn't have the means to let them know where he was.  How long would Nambu allow resources for a search?  Would he decide to hide the fact Gatchaman was missing?  This brought a sobering thought.  If Katse ever realized he was MIA, would he assume it was an ISO ploy and that he was actually dead, or would his devious mind lead him to think of looking amongst his own people for where an injured ninja might be hiding? 

            Ken saw little of Marcus.  When he did, the doctor gave him no more attention than he did any of the other patients.  Ken held no idea of what the doctor was doing about his internal problem or if there was anything he could do about it at all.  He felt like a statue in a park, watching life flashing past but able to have no part in it.   He was being left behind and outside of everything, and it galled him no end. 

            "Your time is up, Marcus.  I've been more than generous."

            Blake's black-clad form strolled into the room.  Marcus was right behind him.

            "It's been but a week."

            "More than enough time to make your final diagnosis."

            Ken made no move to disguise his following of the conversation.  He didn't need to.  All eyes in the room were glued on the two men.

            "I've released them as quickly as has been prudent.  Not all cases are clear cut.  Some of these men need more time to heal or their injuries might not repair as they should if rushed and will cause them trouble later."

            Blake came to a stop.  "I've heard all these excuses many times before, doctor.  They mean nothing to me or the organization.  We only want results."  He grabbed the first patient chart he came across.  "Concussion, broken arm, dislocated shoulder, broken leg.  I see nothing here that would prevent him from going back to work."  He slapped the chart back on its hook and crossed to one of the other beds, the streamers from his helmet flaring out behind him like a cloak.  "Dislocated pelvis, head trauma, partially collapsed lung.  Should have been back at least a day ago.  We're not running a vacation spa here, Marcus."

            Though the doctor said nothing, Ken could almost feel the anger radiating from him.  What was Blake hoping to gain by provoking him like this?

            "Ah and look at this one."  As if homing in for the kill, the captain grabbed Rob's chart.  "A total quadraplegic."  He flipped some more pages.  "Chances of recovery nil.  And yet here he still is."  He turned to face the darker skinned man his expression diffused by the helmet and dark visor.  "The policy is quite clear on this type of thing."

            "This...is a man...not some piece of machinery to be discarded on a whim.  He can still be useful.  There are controls which can allow someone with his disabilities to still be productive, still be able to meet the needs of the organization."

            Blake feigned a look of surprise.  "You don't say?  Next you'll be telling me Lord Katse should make sure to add ramps and other features for the handicapped in all his mechs and bases."  His tone turned hard as he stabbed a finger at the doctor's chest.  "You're a bleeding heart, Marcus.  People like you bog down the system."

            Muted weeping filled the background.  None of the other patients dared move or make a sound.

            Marcus's face was determined.  "Be that as it may, I hold sway here.  And these men will not be released until they are ready."  The muscle at the doctor's jaw jumped, he was straining so hard to keep himself in check.

            Blake's open hand moved incredibly fast.  Before the doctor even saw it, it connected with his face and sent him sprawling.  The captain's voice was ice and held a sharp edge.  "Your kind are only here on sufferance.  Never make the mistake of thinking you have any true power.  I am the final authority here - me!"  From the holster at his side he withdrew a 9 millimeter Beretta.  He pointed it at Marcus, a gleeful smirk on his face.

            To the doctor's credit, he glared back at the man, showing no fear.

            "Leave him alone!"  Ken's desperate protest went unheeded.  He tried to drag himself upwards though there was absolutely nothing he could do.

            Blake laughed then pulled his arm to the left to point the gun at the quadriplegic.  He pulled the trigger.  Rob's body jerked, a red stain spreading over the sheet covering his chest.  Gurgling sounds echoed loudly through the otherwise silent room then stopped.

            "Listen up all of you!"  Blake raked the room with his gaze.  "You have two days to get out of those beds and go back on duty.  If you don't, his same fate awaits you."  He swept an arm to indicate Rob.

            Marcus was rising from the floor, not looking at any of them.  Before he could fully stand, Blake reached down and grabbed him by his white coat and jerked him up close.  "I would also suggest the next time you feel like sending messages to higher command, you remember this little episode and squelch your desire to nothing, where it belongs."

            He roughly pushed Marcus away, then turned his back on all of them and charged off.  Ken glared at him as long as he was in view, wishing he had something, anything to throw at the heartless monster.

            The patients started all yelling at once.  "Doc, I don't want to die.  You gotta do something!"  "That guy is crazy! He hates us!"  "Just kill me now and get it over with..."

            Ken ignored the protests ringing around him, his total attention focused on Marcus.  The doctor nodded at the bombardment but still wouldn't look at any of them.  He limped over to Rob's body and after checking for a pulse and examining the wound, he pulled the rest of the sheet over the dead man's face.

 

 

#

 

 

            "The swelling has definitely gone down."

            Ken released a held breath, relieved at the news.  He was one step closer.  "So I'll be able to use a wheelchair."

            Marcus glanced at him, relief reflected in his face as well.  "Yes.  It's not exactly what I would prefer, and we'll need to monitor it, but yes."

            Mobility.  Freedom.  Ken couldn't help the smile widening on his face.  Now maybe he'd be able to do something.  Then his expression soured.  "What about the others?"  It wasn't that he cared about these criminals any more than before -- he wasn't going soft.  He just didn't want Blake to win.

            The doctor looked happy that he asked.  "I've been able to patch most of them enough that they can move on their own power.  Some pain medication and letters to their supervisors will hopefully let them get along well enough.  One or two will end up back under care, but at least it will be elsewhere and not here."  His eyes darkened.  "Two have been moved...to other areas in the facility."

            Ken nodded wondering exactly what that meant.  Was he hiding those who couldn't fend for themselves?  He wouldn't put it past him.  He also found it unlikely Blake wouldn't expect him to do just that.  He wondered how many times the two of them had played this game before.  "He doesn't seem to think much of you."

            "He's not the worst I've had to deal with."

            That sounded undoubtedly unpleasant.  It made Ken wonder just what kept Marcus here.  But then again, once you joined Galactor you never got to leave - or so he'd heard said.

            The doctor released the bed's brakes and moved the whole thing away from the scanner then set them up again.  "Wait here a minute."

            Ken tried to twist his head to see where he was going, but couldn't see much.  He waited impatiently, hoping it was a wheelchair.  He heard the door flop open a few moments later.

            "Sorry for the wait."  Something metallic clinked against the back of the bed.  Ken tried to get a look at it even as he realized it wasn't what he'd hoped for.  The gift was a metal arm that hooked to the back of the headboard went up and over and hung down to the side at a 45 degree angle.  On the end of the arm was a bar, low enough that Ken could reach it. 

            "You can grab this to get into a sitting position.  You'll also use it to lever yourself in and out of a wheelchair." 

            Ken felt the tingle of excitement flow through him again.

            "Right now though, let's check the height on this and adjust it until it's comfortable."

            He reached up for the bar, eager to get started.

            After several tries, Marcus adjusted the arm and Ken was able to sit up on his own.  It felt strange.

            "Please don't over do this."  Ken turned to stare at Marcus.  "If you feel any strain at all, let me know."

            Before Ken could formulate an answer, the doors to the room were slapped open.  Blake strode in as if he owned the place.

            "Ah, there you are!  Wondered where you'd scurried off to."  He gave the doctor and unfriendly smirk.  "I believe there's a deadline you're supposed to meet today."

            Ken forced his expression to neutral.  He saw Marcus doing the same. 

             "I am well aware of what today is."  The doctor's voice was chilly.

            "And?"

            "Most of the patients should be going back on active duty later today."

            Blake's dismissing smirk turned hungry.  "And the rest?"

            Marcus let out a long sigh.  "Have been taken care of."

            "Good!"

            The captain's pleasure rankled Ken.  Smug bastard.

            Blake then seemed to notice him for the first time.  "Ah, and this one?"  Ken wished he could see the Galactor's eyes through the mask.  He forced himself to look away, not daring to let him see any modicum of defiance.

            "He's healed enough that he can be mobile.  However, his memory loss continues, and Records has not yet sent back to whom he belongs.  I will be keeping him here as an assistant until then."

            Blake turned to face Ken fully, ignoring the doctor for the moment.  "I remember you."  It was hard for Ken to tell if this was a good thing or not.  "Aren't you the lucky one?"

            Ken continued not to look at him directly.  He wanted nothing more than to leap from the bed and beat the man to a bloody pulp.  "Yes, sir."

            "I'd suggest you hurry and get your memories back then return to service.  You never know when the good doctor might decide to start experimenting again."

            Ken couldn't help throwing a glance in Marcus's direction.  The doctor's eyes were veiled.

            "And even if you don't get them back, why don't you consider coming to work for me," Blake added.  "I need good eyes and ears and who would think anything of a cripple like you, especially one with such a pretty face."  A gloved hand grabbed Ken's jaw and forced his head up so Blake could look down at his visage.  Ken couldn't help his revulsion at being touched from showing, though it seemed to make no difference to Blake.  "A very pretty face...and those lovely eyes.  We don't see a lot of lookers in the organization.  You could be very popular."

            Ken pulled away in disgust.  "I'll be staying here, sir."

            A chuckle resounded beside him.  "We shall see.  Yes indeed, we shall."  Still chuckling, Blake turned away and left them.

            "I'm sorry you had to go through that."  Marcus's voice was barely audible.

            "It's no big deal."  Usually he would have truly thought so, but nothing had been normal since he ended up in this place. 

            "Let's get this bed moved to your new room, shall we?"  Marcus gave Ken no chance to answer, instead removing the brakes to wheel the bed away.

            They took the elevator back up yet didn't stop on the floor above, but went one higher.  The doors opened onto a broad hallway with painted blue walls rather than the metallic surface he'd seen everywhere else.

            "The staff's quarters are here and also some rooms for any patients of rank.  I will be putting you in one of those."  He wheeled him through an open door on the left. 

            The room was small and sparse.  It had a chair, a generic chest of drawers, and a mirror.  A night table boasted several ragged edged paperback books.  An open door to the right led to a wide bathroom.  In the corner was a shiny, folded wheelchair.  Things were finally looking up.

            Marcus pushed the bed into place then locked it down. He raised the bed so Ken could more easily reach for the bar, then moved to leave.

            "Dr. Marcus, what did Blake mean about your wanting to experiment again?"

            A sigh rang softly in the room.  A moment later, Marcus turned around.  With a noticeable effort, he raised his gaze to meet Ken's own.  "I lost my way once...  It cost me everything."

            His tone spoke of depths of pain and loss though his expression never changed.  "It is not something I will ever do again.  You have nothing to worry about."

            Ken shook his head, dismissing the comment, not having been concerned on that account in the first place.  Anything coming from Blake's mouth couldn't be given much credence.  "Then why are you here? Why do you work for them?"

            A bitter smile flickered on Marcus's face.  "In medicine, you only get one strike.  I had mine.  They don't forgive or forget.  To Galactor, however, it didn't matter.  I could work again, make a difference, save lives."

            Ken looked away.  He saved the soldiers so that men like Blake could put them back into play and threaten the world again.  How did Marcus live with that?  But it wasn't something he could ask.  Not without giving too much of himself away.  "Thank you for telling me."

            "If a patient has no trust in his doctor, how can he be expected to follow his advice to make a full recovery?"  Some of the mask thawed away, a hint of humor flickering at the edge of his eyes.

            Ken was glad to see it.  "So when can I use the chair?"  He glanced longingly at the folded wheelchair in the corner.

            "Soon."  A hint of a smile graced the doctor's face at Ken's displeased expression.  "Maybe tomorrow.  Try sitting up for a few minutes at a time and how it feels.  If there's any stress or pain, stop immediately.  We'll scan it again in the morning and if all looks like today, then you can give it a whirl."

            Ken forced himself to look pleased though he truly wanted nothing more than to leap into the chair that second.  "Okay.  You're the doc."

 

 

#

 

            "Joe-aniki, I'm really worried about her."  Jinpei wiped the counter of the Snack J, rubbing hard at a stain that wasn't there, and sent a quick questioning look at his teammate's face.  "She hasn't yelled at me once all week."

            Joe's brow rose.  He shook his head, this having to be the strangest benchmark of normal behavior he'd ever heard of.  "What is she doing?"

            "Nothing.  She just sits in her room and does nothing."  He wiped at the counter harder.  "I bring her food, and she'll eat, but only if I stay and watch her.  I have to put her to bed, I have to help her get up.  Joe-aniki, it's like she's not here anymore."  Tears glinted at the edge of his eyes.  Jinpei abruptly turned away and rubbed his arm across his face.

            "Okay, kid, don't worry.  I'll go talk to her."  Joe stood up from the stool, trying to hold back the frown wanting to crease his forehead.  He headed for the stairs, Jinpei's hopeful face staring after him.

            He knew he should have stopped by to check on them sooner.  There just hadn't seemed to be the time.  The team was all tense and worried, and he'd not been able to sit around and do nothing, regardless of what Nambu suggested.  The poking feeling behind his shoulder blades that Ken needed them wouldn't let him.  Though it wasn't his strength by any means, he volunteered to help out the intelligence group and spent hours pouring over reports from the countries surrounding the location of the destroyed base, looking for something, anything that might be a clue they could follow to find Ken.

            When the headaches from the useless sifting got to be too much to take, he took to the track, letting the wind and speed bring him to some semblance of balance and calm.  Sleep was hard to come by and never lasted long.  He was too aware there was always something he could be looking at, more information he could be sifting through, if the doing itself didn't drive him mad first.

            Joe stopped at the top of the landing, his grip on the banister turning his knuckles white.  He shouldn't have forgotten the others though.  They too were trying to find their own way to deal with the crisis.  He really should have stopped by sooner.

            He took a deep breath.

            To be honest though, he knew why he hadn't.  It wasn't the work, the need to stay busy-he just wasn't good at these things.  Ken was the one who knew how to rally the troops, how to get them to see past the emotions to the logic, not him.  He was ruled by his passions, and not always in a good way.  What exactly did Jinpei honestly expect him to do? 

            He approached Jun's room with hunched shoulders. 

            His knock received no answer, so after a couple of moments, Joe reached forward and opened the door. 

            "Jun?  It's me, Joe.  I'm coming in."

            He found his teammate sitting in an overstuffed chair close to the window.  The light from outside was shining down over her.  At any other time, it would have probably been a lovely sight, but not today.  Today, the light only served to emphasize Jun's gaunt grown profile, her unkempt, unwashed hair, her red vacant eyes.

            She didn't react to his presence, not even when he came to stand beside her.  She was staring toward the window, her gaze unfocused, not actually seeing what was there.

            "Jun?"

            No reaction.  Joe cursed under his breath.  Jinpei should have called him before this.

            "G-3!"

            She jerked as if slapped.  Her head turned slowly toward him, her eyes focusing for the first time.  "J-Joe?"

            "What the hell are you doing?"

            "What?"  Her features twisted with confusion. 

            "I asked what the hell are you doing?"  Joe scrunched down so he could be on the same level as her face.  His nose twitched as he caught the scent of her unwashed body.  "When was the last time you took a shower?  That you changed clothes?  Is this how you want him to find you?"

            "Who?"  Her eyes grew wide.  "Ken?"  She leapt to her feet and swayed where she stood.  "Is Ken back?  Is he?" 

            Joe stood up, his face feeling like a hard mask.  "No.  He's not back.  We've still no idea where he is."

            It was as if she were a balloon and all the air got suddenly released from inside her.  She slumped back into the chair.  Jun turned her face away, but not before he caught a glimpse of fresh tears gathering in her eyes.

            "He wouldn't want you to be doing this.  You know that, right?"

            She shook her head.  "I left him there.  I left him there to die, to be taken.  He won't be caring about what I do at all."

            "That's a load of horseshit and you know it!"  Her defeatist attitude was getting under his skin.  How could she be so stupid?  "He ordered you out of there.  You were injured, dammit!  You know better."

            "Leave me alone."  She drew her legs up to her chest, keeping her back to him.  "Go away."

            "What the hell is wrong with you?"  He reached down and grabbed her arm.  "You dare call yourself a member of the Kagaku Ninjatai?  Get the hell up."

            "Joe, leave me alone!"  She tried to yank her arm back, but his grip was too strong.  Her eyes glared at him from beneath straggly strands of hair.  "Let go!"

            "No."  He yanked on her arm hard, partially pulling her from the chair.  "You're coming with me."

            "Leave me alone!"  She lunged forward aiming a blow to his solar plexus. 

            Expecting it, Joe half turned and grabbed the arm as it came past.  He then tugged her totally out of the chair onto her feet.

            "Let go of me!"  Her hand reached for his elbow and pinched the nerve forcing him to release her.  She followed this up with a jab at his face.

            Joe barely dodged the bottom of her palm and used his hold on her other arm to shove her forcefully back onto the chair.  Falling into it, Jun let her momentum carry her up and over.  She landed on her feet behind it, breathing heavily.  "Get out!  Get out of my room!"

            "Make me."  He took a step back and motioned her to come at him.  "Let's see what you've got."  This was something he knew how to do.

            She frowned at him, then glanced at room's door, noting how he was partially blocking the way to it.  "You're being stupid.  Just leave."

            He chuckled.  "I'm being stupid?  Looked in the mirror lately, princess?"

            "What I do or don't do is none of your business!"

            "Is that right?  What about Jinpei?  Is it none of his business either?"

            Her hands bunched at her sides.  "You leave him out of this."

            "The little squirt is downstairs right now crying his eyes out about you.  It's not enough that he has to deal with Ken's disappearance like the rest of us, but he also has to put up with you letting yourself rot in here like some kind of criminal.  Have you even taken a moment to think of what you're doing to him?"

            "Shut up!"  Jun cupped her hands over her ears.  "Jinpei can take care of himself.  This has nothing to do with any of you!  You're not the ones who left Ken to die!"

            His annoyance grew into a pit of heat.  "I've had about as much as I am going to take of this bullshit."  Joe rushed her.

            Jun leapt before he could grab her and used his own body to flip herself toward the door.  He kicked backward and caught her in the back of the leg, bringing her down.  Joe turned around and jumped on her before she got a chance to get back up.

            "Nee-chan?  Joe-aniki?"  A wide-eyed Jinpei stood framed in the doorway.

            Jun glanced up at the sound of his voice and froze.  Joe didn't hesitate, but used the distraction to capture her hands.  "Jinpei!  Get in here and help me. Grab her legs!"

            "No!"  Jun thrashed beneath him, trying to throw him off.  "Don't you dare get him involved.  Just leave me alone!"

            "Jinpei!  Now, dammit!"  Joe held on, Jun's struggles making it very difficult to keep her pinned.

            The boy jerked into motion, giving his sister a wide berth to move around to her legs.   "Joe-aniki..." Doubt and a little fear tainted his voice.

            "Just do it!"

            The boy did as he was told. 

            Once Jinpei had Jun's legs secure, Joe flipped her over holding her upper torso off the floor.  Jinpei yelped as she kicked her legs and he almost lost his grip.

            "Jinpei, you let go of me this instant!" 

            Her brother shivered, though he didn't let go, his sister's glare way too reminiscent of the ones usually given by Joe when he'd been pushed too far.  This could get very ugly for him later.  "What, what now, Joe-aniki?"

            Joe grunted as Jun lurched up and down.  He was having a hard time trying to keep her hands trapped and the rest of her from getting injured due to her movements.  "Just follow me."

            He backed out into the hall then carried his unwilling burden down to the next room.  Using his shoulder to turn the knob, and getting a nice bump on his head as he got smacked against the doorway when Jun took that moment to try to jerk loose again, he opened the door into the bathroom. 

            "Dammit, Jun, he's not worth all this!"

            She continued to struggle despite his words, trying even harder as if sensing a growing weakness.  "Let me go!  Do it now!"

            He carried her to the back, to the large western shower door, Jinpei stumbling as he continued to try to keep hold of his sister's kicking legs.

            Joe got a second lump as he put his back against the shower door to slide it open and Jun once more jerked around trying to get loose.  "Kuso."

            He pulled himself and his charge inside.  "Jinpei, let go and turn the damn thing on!"

            Eyes wider than ever before, Jinpei shoved his sister's legs inside the shower and let go.  Before she could kick him, he slapped the shower on and yanked himself out then slid the door shut.

            "Aaaahhh!"

            Joe pushed her forward into the stream as Jun kicked at the walls and door.  "Just calm the hell down already!"

            Jun kicked the walls a couple of more times then went totally limp.  Joe almost dropped her at the unexpected move.  Tense, expecting another barrage, he set her down.

            Instead Jun slid down to her knees and leaned forward, her hair falling over her face the water washing over her. 

            As Joe tried hard to catch his breath, water steaming up around him and pooling at his feet, she gave a loud wail of pain before again drooping forward to sob into her hands.

            "Nee-chan..." Jinpei plastered his face against the opaque door, his tears staining the outside.

            Joe crouched down and took her in his arms.  Jun leaned limply against him, crying.  "We'll find him, you'll see.  And if we don't, then we'll make those bastards pay.  You have my word on that."

 

 

#

 

 

            Ken stared raptly as Marcus brought the wheelchair over and extended it into its open position.  Movement, freedom, no matter how restricted, would be better than the bedridden hell of the last week.  His very survival might rest with that chair and what he could learn to do with it. 

            "All right.  The bed has been lowered, your handle adjusted.  Now for the hard part."  The doctor moved the chair to sit parallel to Ken.  The armrest on his side was lowered, the seat even with the mattress on his bed.  "Just do it as we talked about."

            He nodded, having gone over the process in his head a hundred times and more.  The legs would be the hardest part.  Without being able to move or feel them, they were just dead weights attached to his body and very hard to control.  Everything would work against him, gravity, friction, and the need to use both hands to keep himself up, at least until his arms grew even stronger.

            "I'll be right here to help you, so just take your time."

            Ken took a deep breath and reached up for the dangling handle.  Holding onto it as if he was about to do chin-ups, he brought his bottom off the bed and shuffled his hands over the bar, partially dragging his body until he dangled over the chair.  Feeling the strain in his arms, he slowly lowered himself until his rear was on the seat.  Still holding onto the bar with one arm, he used his other one to grab his left leg and slip it over the edge and onto the chair's footrest.  Feeling winded, but exhilarated all at once, he reached for his other leg.  Once both were in place, he let go of the bar above him.

            "Bloody well done!"  Marcus clapped him on the shoulder.  Ken found he was grinning like a little kid.

            The doctor quickly helped him get acquainted with the brakes and the proper way to control the chair.

            "Shall we take her for a spin?"

            Ken didn't answer him, instead slapping his hands down on the handrims to either side and shoved them forward to rocket the chair toward the door.

            There wasn't much to see, only empty rooms and a few offices, but just the fact he was able to move felt glorious.  Marcus made sure he got to see the location of the exercise room and plainly detailed the types of exercises he expected Ken to get up to.  He was more than happy to agree.

            He grew tired after only a short while of moving around, his arms not used to this particular labor.  When he finally gave in to the inevitable and allowed himself to be guided back to bed, his arms shook from strain as he pulled himself up onto the bed.

            Overall, he was well satisfied and slept well for the first time since he'd arrived.

            Ken flushed the toilet, feeling relieved and smug all at once.  Handling the bathroom proved more difficult than he ever anticipated, but he'd done it.  No more embarrassing bedpans for him!  He was mobile; he was able.  He was even clothed - though that had brought problems of its own.  All he needed now was to figure a way to get out of there.

            He wheeled himself into the bedroom.  Marcus mentioned earlier he would put him to work today.  Any excuse to see more of the facility or to get information worked fine with him.  Along the way he hoped to be able to find out what was done with his original clothes.  If somehow it got out who he really was, he wanted to give them as little as possible for them to find out about the team's secrets.  The clothes were virtually indestructible and would give away too much if studied.  With any luck they'd been dumped along with the other torn uniforms and stained clothing and sat in a garbage heap somewhere.  He needed to make sure though.

            He wheeled himself to the elevator and rolled inside once the doors opened.  He stared at the panel for the first time.  There were five buttons on the control.  He'd been to the fifth, fourth, and third floors, though he didn't see all that was there.  Rather than press the button for the fourth level as he'd been instructed, he pressed the one at the top.  Nothing happened.  He tried the second one.  Again nothing.

            Frowning, he went ahead and hit the button for the fourth floor.  The elevator responded immediately.  There was no obvious security keypad or card slot.  So either it required a pattern from the actual buttons present or some portable electronic key to be able to rise to the first two floors.

            A queasy feeling swished inside his stomach from more than the downward pull of the elevator.  He was sure he could crack the code or figure a way to bypass it if he could find a few simple tools, but he might only get one shot at it-and that was assuming the security mechanism was even in the elevator and not controlled from elsewhere.  There'd be no way to say he'd gotten to those floors by accident either.  In his current condition, it would be unlikely he'd be able to stop anyone who decided to get in his way.

            When the door opened, he pushed the handrims forward, his arms tight as he pushed harder than necessary.  He needed a weapon.  Something to help balance the scales.  Only then would he have a prayer.

            "Ah, John, over here!"

            Ken slowed as he wheeled past an intersection, spotting Marcus down the right fork.  Turning around, he went to meet the doctor.

            "Good morning."  Marcus gave him a slight smile.  "Is all well with you?"  His gaze turned curious.

            Ken realized he must still be frowning and forced his face to relax.  "Yeah, I'm good.  Just thinking how empty the place felt."

            The doctor nodded as if knowing exactly what he meant.  "It's actually like this most of the time.  Only during emergencies and then only if the location is somewhat close would they be brought here.  Otherwise we only treat locals."

            Ken's interest perked up at this.  Though he wasn't sure what ‘somewhat close' meant to Galactor, it did mean he could be somewhere near the vicinity of the destroyed base - so he could still be in Bhatan, or possibly Indiria, as the Bhatan monarchy possessed a treaty with the other, which might have made transport across the border easier than to one of the other surrounding countries.

            "Will I be helping with them?"  He wracked his brains trying to think of questions that would give him more information but wouldn't show his true area of interest.

            "Sorry, chap, I think that may be a little too advanced for you just yet."  Marcus indicated the open door beside him.  "This was more of what I had in mind."

            Ken wheeled his chair forward so he could take a look.  The room was a medical supply closet, and at the moment it appeared as if a tornado recently rammed through it.  "What happened in there?"

            Marcus actually laughed.  "The usual, actually.  Nurses and orderlies in too much of a hurry in the middle of chaos.  Now that things have calmed down again, someone gets the job of putting the place back together."  He gave Ken a pointed look.

            "Ah.  Swell."  This would be fun...

            "I've already picked up everything that was on the floor, so you should have no problems there.  Just take your time and do what you can.  I'll come by and retrieve you for lunch."  He patted Ken lightly on the shoulder.  "Guess I'll leave you to it then.  There's a handset around the corner if you need to contact me.  And don't forget your exercises later."

            Ken stared at the mess before him, listening to the doctor's steps as he walked away.  As soon as he was gone, Ken rolled himself out and around the corner to look at the handset he'd mentioned.  It was a plain unit, just a hook and the actual phone handle.  With no way to dial, he figured it routed only internally to other preset phones.  If the PBX wasn't set up correctly, there was a slight chance he could use it to get an outside line.  But he would need a real telephone or at least a number pad.  He had seen neither so far, so he added them to his mental want list.  Then he wheeled himself back to handle the current project at hand.

            The fit in the supply closet was tight, but he could turn around if he took his time.  Three large metal and wood shelves filled in the sides of the room.  He'd be able to reach four of the shelves if he really stretched.  The last two would be totally beyond his efforts.  It annoyed him.  Guess this was how Jinpei normally felt when having to fetch the stool at the Snack J to get at the higher dishes and ingredients.  A stool wouldn't do Ken any good here, however. 

            He started sorting whatever he could reach.  Most of the supplies were different sized bandages and gauze, but there were a few other items as well.  He tried looking at each thing for any possible uses, trying to think outside the box like Jinpei's foreign TV hero McGuyver.  Nothing like the man's usual flashes came to him, but he did find a few things he thought might at some point prove useful.  Dental floss, plastic gloves, a small syringe, plastic tubing, a small case of hypodermic needles, as well as a few other odds and ends.  He stuffed them in the pocket of his shorts and behind his shirt at the pant's waistband.  He'd need to see what he could do about outfitting the chair with a bag of some sort.

            By the time Marcus came to retrieve him for lunch, the bottom half of the room looked a lot more organized and his prizes were safely tucked away out of sight. 

            "Nice work."  The doctor studied his efforts with approval.  "Ready for some food?"

            Ken found his mouth watering at the prospect.  Aside from broth, applesauce, and bland unidentifiable goo, he hadn't had anything decent to eat since he first woke here.  He was looking forward to having something with a little more substance.  "You bet.  Lead the way."

            As they entered the elevator, Ken kept his eye on the buttons just in case.  His small hope didn't resolve, however, as Marcus pressed the one in the middle, taking them back up to the floor containing Ken's room.

            He saw more of the layout as they headed to a small non-descript eating area with a couple of tables in the opposite direction from his rooms.  A wall opened into the kitchen, which was a lot larger than would be needed for a room like this.  Ken figured it served as the main preparation center for the rare waves of patients which might come through.  From his low vantage point, he couldn't tell if they were gas driven or electric.  If gas, it could present some possibilities if he needed to rig a distraction at some point.

            Aside from the cook, who served them and then returned to the kitchen, Marcus and Ken had the room to themselves.

            "Hope the curry is not too spicy.  Rahul is a native and tends to err on the side of hot, despite my requests for mildness."  Marcus spoke rather softly despite the fact they were alone.

            "No, it's good."  Ken shoveled in another mouthful using the flat bread.  He was definitely in Indiria.  The Bhatanese weren't as partial to the dish as the Indirians.  "And thanks for the clothes, too, by the way.  I am assuming my old ones were trashed?"

            "Yes, that would be the case, I'm afraid.  They were rather heavily damaged."

            Ken nodded slowly.  He knew for a fact his uniform, though in its civilian guise, hadn't been damaged at all.  He felt a tightening in the pit of his stomach.  This man definitely knew more than he was telling.  The man's dark features, however, revealed nothing.

            "I hope you don't mind, but I bought you a gift."  Marcus brought a small box out of his coat pocket and set it on the table.  "Since you might be with us for a while, and I won't always be available, I thought it might prove useful."  He slid the box across the table.

            Surprised, Ken took the offered box and opened it.  Inside was a wide banded watch.  He glanced up at Marcus, his surprise rising to even greater heights.

            "It will help hide the scar on your wrist, so you won't have to feel self conscious about it."

            Marcus knew.  He knew!  Ken suspected it all along, but this confirmed it.  But why did he never say so?  Was this place that closely monitored?  And why was he helping him anyway?  The man was Galactor.  "Th-that's very kind of you."

            The questions continued to beat around in his mind, yet he dared not voice them.  Instead, he reached for the watch and removed it from the box.  He tied it around the gauze still on his wrist, which hid the telltale evidence of where his communicator usually rested. 

            "My pleasure, chap."  The doctor gave him an intense knowing look then went back to his food.  "Breakfast is served promptly at eight.  The cook is on duty for lunch from eleven to one, the staff taking staggered lunches.  Dinner is at six."

            Ken nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  He couldn't believe security would be so high at a place like this, but Marcus obviously thought it was.  Might the doctor just be overly cautious or was he missing something?  Though he'd kept his eyes open for any hints of security measures in place, Ken had still to find anything.  He would need to look again. 

            Marcus picked up his napkin and cleaned his mouth, his gaze focused on Ken.  "I need to return to the clinic, but please take your time.  I'll see you at dinner then?"

            "I'll be here."

            Marcus stood and took his leave.  Ken watched him go then returned to his food.  The cook ignored him, going on about his duties in the kitchen.  When one of the nurses showed up for her lunch, Ken grabbed the box the watch came in and left the room. 

            In the elevator he looked carefully at each corner and surface area trying to find signs of a camera.  He didn't find anything, but that meant nothing.  He hated his lack of reach as he glanced for a moment at the access hatch at the top.  If he had the use of his legs, he could have easily used the small handholds for the passengers to boost himself up there and check the top of the car for extra wires or wireless ports.  If he had his legs though, he would just climb the shaft and gain his freedom, or fight his way out of here. 

            He returned to the closet and finished what little more he could do, then retreated to the exercise room for a while.  He went around the long way on both floors, to catch a glimpse of what else lay about.  He had to admit the machines in the exercise room were pretty impressive-small servos moving the legs for him so the muscles would not atrophy.  Once he finished the short regimen Marcus suggested, he returned to his room and closed the door.  He glanced around trying to picture where they might have placed video cameras.  Assuming the cameras were probably in the vents, he scoped out the angles of view and what places might be out of range.  If someone was monitoring them, they probably saw him stash his goods beneath the solid night table and box spring - there was nothing he could do about it now. Methodically he went through the room, using the wheelchair and his body to block what he was doing as much as possible.  By the end of an exhausting hour, he'd found two bugs - one in the room and another in the bathroom.  He would have to be extra careful from now on.

            His arms shook and sweat beaded his brow as he lifted himself back onto the bed.  It was infuriating to be this weak.  He set the alarm clock next to the bed for a couple of hours from then so he could get up in time for dinner.  The blank walls stared at him and he shuddered, feeling as if unwanted eyes were roaming over him.  Maybe sleep wouldn't come. 

            An annoying buzzing sound close to his head made him open his eyes.  With a groan, he half turned to reach for the alarm clock.  As he shut it off, he blinked hard, realizing he'd somehow slept almost half an hour after the thing went off.  With a grimace, he reached up for the bar over him so he could get out of bed, use the facilities, and get himself downstairs.

            He got there about twenty minutes early.  The cook was already busy in the kitchen.  Ken picked one of the two tables and wheeled himself around it to where he was facing the entrance.   He practiced some light meditation so the time would pass.  He didn't need to wait long.

            They all arrived in a group.  Marcus and five others, two of which he had seen before.  The doctor gave Ken a welcoming smile.  "John, these are the rest of the staff stationed here."  He pointed first to an Indirian woman with light chocolate skin, a small oriental man, and a woman in her late forties.  "This is Arandani, Chin, and Renee."  He motioned toward the others.  "I believe you've already met Jonas, and Marsha."  They were the orderly and the plump nurse from the ward.

            "Everyone, this is John.  He will be staying with us for a while doing some odd jobs and light maintenance."

            "Namaste."  The receptionist gave him a guarded smile.  Ken didn't blame her, he was sure a lot of the men she met here weren't the type to get friendly with.

            More greetings came from the others and he returned them as best he could.  He didn't really want to get to know any of these people, but currently he had little choice.

            Jonas and Chin brought over the second table and put it together with the one Ken was already sitting at.  The women carried the dishes while Marcus retrieved eating implements.  Rahul came from the kitchen hefting a flat round table, went back for the food, and then sat down.  They set the revolving platform on the table and loaded it to share the meal in standard Chunesse tradition.  Now Ken was breaking bread with the enemy as well.  He was sure Joe would have had a few choice things to say about it.

            At first everyone was rather quiet, strangely deferring to him on the prime choices in the plates.  Could they be as wary of him as he was of them?  Marcus asked Rahul about one of his sons and this seemed to thin the ice somewhat.  Light conversation ensued.  Ken acted interested but didn't add to any of the discussions, either because he wasn't familiar with the topic or his amnesia would make it that way.

            "I heard those noises again," Jonas said between bites at one point.

            "Oh, don't say that!"  Renee shivered and rubbed at her arms as if suddenly cold.  "This place is creepy enough as it is, I don't need it to get even more that way."

            Ken noticed a momentary frown crease Marcus's brow, and then it was gone.  "It's probably just a badly placed vent or some such.  All these places go up so fast at times, they all develop their own little quirks."

            "Yeah," Jonas said, "I'm sure it's nothing."  He then lifted his arms and in a thin voice added, "Except ghosts!  Ooooo!"

            "Oh, cut it out.  You know she hates that."  Arandani gave Jonas a stony glare. 

            "Lighten up, sweet cheeks."  Jonas sat back grinning, but stopped all the same. 

            By the time they finished dinner, Ken figured all of them seemed harmless enough, not that he would ever dare trust any of them. 

 

 

#

 

 

 

            "I have a different set of chores for you today."

            Ken glanced up at Marcus, wondering what the doctor had in mind.  "What do you want done?"

            He handed Ken a tablet.  "Now that you have the supplies mostly in order, you get to restock the rooms."

            Looking at the form, he found it was very generic, basically with blanks as to room type and then a big box for what supplies were placed there.

            "At the bottom of the stack is a list of what the standard supplies in each should be.  Just write down what you found there and what you added."

            "Sounds simple enough."  Ken tried hard not to let his sudden rising excitement show.  The doctor just handed him a valid reason for snooping around.  Was it intentional?  He wished he could read the man's expressions better.

            "Arandani found this for me.  I thought it might be useful for carrying things around."  An apologetic looks crossed his face.  "Pay no mind to the picture on the side there.  It seems there's nothing bloody tourists won't buy."

            Marcus handed over a heavy cloth bag with a large shoulder handle.  The thing was bright orange with a picture of a dancing, happy elephant in platform shoes.  The collar and shoes were done in rhinestones.  The word Kalikata was plastered beneath it.  Now Ken knew the exact city he was in.  Either the doctor was very careless, or entirely too devious.

             "Uh, thanks."  Ken hung the bag off the back handle on his left.  Ugly as the things was, it would definitely come in handy in a number of ways.  He would just have to make sure not to look at it too often.

            "No hurry on this, old chap, so take your time.  No sense pushing yourself.  I assume the exercises and the equipment were easy enough?  No troubles?"

            "None.  The instructions and the machines weren't all that hard to figure out."

            "Excellent.  Keep me appraised.  And try not to push too hard."

            They parted ways, Ken descending to the lowest level and Marcus to the secured floors above.

            Taking his time, he wheeled himself from room to room, taking a long look around.  The bottom floor comprised of big rooms filled with metal-framed beds.  The mattresses were bare and had been rolled up to the headboards, leaving the springs beneath exposed.  A nurse's station took up the center of intersecting hallways.  Powered down boards with screens for each nearby room filled the counter space.  There was a phone there, but it was just another handset without any means of dialing. 

            Ken rummaged through the drawers, and like a good worker bee, made notations on the contents and what supplies he needed to retrieve.  Aside from some pens and loose paperclips, there was nothing there he'd not already seen before. 

            He found two other nurse's stations, monitoring four rooms each.  The place looked to be able to house almost 250 patients comfortably on that floor alone.

            He was making his first run back down with supplies when a deep ringing tone echoed in the hallway.  Ken possessed no idea what the noise was, then realized it was a wall phone.  Pushing the handrims hard, he rolled toward the closest one.   Hesitating only a moment longer, he reached up and lifted the handset off the hook.

            "Hello?"

            "Ah, John, I'd hoped it would be you."

            Ken felt chills course down his arms as he recognized Blake's voice.  "Excuse me?"

            "We need to talk, you and I.  It'll only take a few moments of your time.  Just sit tight and I will be there presently."

            The line went dead.

            Ken hung up the handset, frowning.  Blake wanted to see him?  He doubted it boded well, but if the man had figured out who he was, he doubted he'd give him a warning.  What could he possibly want?

            Tense seconds ticked by and then Ken heard the telltale sound of footsteps.  Turning the wheelchair around, he spotted Blake as he turned the corner.  That was not the way from the elevator.  Ken wondered if Marcus knew there were other means to get around this place.

            Blake waved the moment he saw him as if they were old friends.  Ken liked this less and less. 

            "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.  I do appreciate it."  Blake dripped of sweet politeness.  A total clash of all Ken saw of the man before.  It set his teeth on edge.

            "What can I do for you?"

            Blake crouched down, putting him down at Ken's eye level.  "Are you coping okay?  Being treated all right?"

            Ken totally distrusted the concern oozing from the other.  "Yes.  Everything is great."

            "Recovered any memories yet?"

            Could this be what this was about?  "No.  Nothing yet."

            "Nothing at all?"  Blake leaned a little closer toward him.

            Ken didn't like where this was going.  "Some dreams I can't remember when I wake.  Flashes sometimes.  A lot of little senses of déjà vu I can't explain."

            "Well, at least that's something."  The streamers from his helmet bobbed as he nodded.  "Has Dr. Marcus heard back from Records on his request on you?"

            "He hasn't mentioned it."

            "Pity."  Blake actually looked sorry.  "I bet you would regain your memory faster if we could tell you more things about your past." 

            "Was that what this was about?  I can call Dr. Marcus if that would help."  Ken made as if to reach for the handset.

            Blake stretched out and grabbed his hand to stop him.  "No, I don't think we need to disturb the good doctor.  Not right now, anyway."  He dropped his hand.

            "What an interesting little watch."  His tone belied otherwise.

            "Just something to keep tabs of the time with."

            "Right..."

            The dark lenses in Blake's mask were too opaque for Ken to be able to get a look at his eyes to try to fathom what that was about. 

            "In my opinion, things should serve a purpose higher than just being utilitarian."  He stood up to reach into a pouch attached to his belt.  He withdrew a small flat case from there and turned it in Ken's direction.  He opened it.

            Nestled in a bed of black velvet was a watch.  And not just any watch - the crown at the twelve o'clock position and the black lettering on the mother of pearl facing claimed it as a Rolex Cellini.  Ken swallowed.  Rolex's weren't cheap.  What the hell was this about?

            "A beauty, isn't it?  Platinum, leather, and all male.  I want you to have it."  He held the case out to him.

            Ken made no move to take it.  "I'm sorry.  I can't accept it.  Memories or not, I doubt I made enough to afford that."

            Blake laughed.  "It's a gift.  You don't have to be able to afford it.  Just something between friends."  He set the case on Ken's lap.  "And as friends, we would be willing to give each other gifts, perhaps do each other favors."

            "Favors?" 

            Blake smiled, showing all his teeth.  "Working for Galactor can have many rewards.  Especially for those willing to do extraordinary work."   His smile turned feral.

            "For you that would start by you keeping your eyes and ears open," he said in a barely audible whisper.  "See if you can ferret out if Marcus is hiding any little secrets from me." 

            Ken frowned, suddenly realizing what this was about.  Blake was trying to recruit him, again.

            The Galactor captain stood up and gave him an indulgent smile.  "Enjoy your gift, though you might want to keep it out of sight until you get out of here.  Working for me could prove quite lucrative if you play your cards right."  With a small wave good bye, Blake turned away and went back the way he came.

            So a Rolex was what he thought betrayal was worth.  Ken gripped the handrims of his chair until he lost all sensation in his hands.  He could feel the muscle at his jaw jump as he ground his teeth.  He wondered how much more he'd paid the flat-faced nurse for her services.  The bastard.  Yet he dare show no other reaction.  He had the sneaking suspicion Blake might be watching.

            As soon as he could trust himself not to grab the box and pitch it headlong down the hallway, he wheeled off toward the elevator. 

 

 

 

            "John, are you all right?"

            Ken looked up from where he'd been pushing his food around on his plate never really seeing it.  "What?  Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

            Everyone else at the tables was now looking at him. 

            "You don't like the food?"  Rahul asked, sounding half offended, half concerned.

            "No, the food's great."  He took a bite of the beef to prove it.  "I pushed myself a little too hard today, is all."  He willed them to believe him.  He'd been careless letting them see him brooding like this. 

            Blake's little visit hadn't done much for his day and the fact the rest of the rooms on the bottom floor yielded pretty much nothing didn't help.

            "Why don't you and I go see Baby after dinner, John," Marcus suggested.  "I'd prefer not to take any chances with your spine if we can help it."

            "Sure."  Ken put on a happier expression and forced himself to pay attention to the others and his meal.

            After everyone went their separate ways, Ken and the doctor traveled down a couple of levels to go see Baby.   He was still amazed how such a small thing could have so many uses. 

            "She'll take a few minutes to warm up."  Marcus reached behind the unit and a hum filled the air.  He then hit a control and made the bed lower almost to the floor.

            With the doctor's help, Ken got himself over onto the scanner's bed.

            Baby's humming seemed to fill the whole room.  The sound comforted him in a way he wouldn't have thought possible.  It had possibilities.  It would disguise things from prying ears.  "Marcus..."

            "Yes?"  The doctor leaned somewhat over him. 

            Ken wondered if the doctor suggested they come here for reasons other than to check on his spine.  He hoped he wasn't that easy to read.  "Blake was here again."

            The dark man's brow rose.  "Was he?"  He pretended to be studying one of the instruments for the machine.

            "He asked me to spy on you.  It seems he feels you're hiding things from him."

            "I see." 

            The neutrality in the doctor's tone didn't tell Ken whether he actually did or not.  "Whatever it is he thinks you're doing, he's not going to leave it alone."  What he couldn't say was how those secrets, if there were any, might expose him as well - and that he couldn't afford.

            "We all have secrets, and we all run risks.  It's nothing new to me.  But thank you for telling me."

            Marcus stepped away, so Ken could say no more.  The older man infuriated him.  Why was he playing so coy?  One of his secrets was him, wasn't it?  The fact Marcus knew or suspected who he was?  The walls had ears and eyes, that he knew, but dammit!

            Aside from some directions on how he wanted Ken to lay or turn, and to tell him the spine looked fine, Marcus didn't mention the subject again.  Ken returned to his room to turn in for the night even more dissatisfied than before.

            So when Marcus showed up while Ken was having breakfast the next day, he was more than a little surprised.  "Doctor."

            "Morning, John.  Slept well I trust?"

            "Fine.  Yourself?"

            "Quite satisfactorily, thank you."  Marcus took a seat while Ken continued eating.  "If it's all right with you, I'd thought I'd accompany you when you go downstairs.  I need to pull some items from another of the supply closets, so I thought I would show you where it is.  It may need some straightening up as well."

            Ken shrugged.  Maybe today he would get lucky and find something truly useful.  "Sure."

            Marcus led him to the fifth level to a room on the opposite side of the floor.   When he opened the door into the storage closet, Ken noticed immediately that it needed no straightening.  Someone had already beaten him to it.  He threw a questioning glance at the doctor.  Marcus let the door close behind them, saying nothing. 

            Ken scanned the place.  It was larger than the other closet.  Again metal shelves were set against the walls, filled with all sorts of bandages, tapes, and other supplies.  Marcus went around him to the shelving in the back. This one was filled with taped up boxes with neat labels on the front.  As Ken watched, the doctor reached for the left side of the right most set of shelving and tugged.  The shelving moved away from the wall.  Though they weren't apparent, Ken guessed that set must have wheels.

            The back wall was the usual blank metal so favored by Galactor.  Marcus stepped up to it and with a knuckle rapped out the Morse Code for SOS.  The wall slid to the side.  Ken's eyes widened as he saw what lay on the other side.

            "My secret."  Marcus got out of the way so Ken could approach.

            Behind the wall, amidst rerouted air ducts and wires, were four berths.  Two were filled.  Small instrument panels beside each showed the life signs for the patients tucked within.  One opened his eyes and moaned, then tentatively reached out.

            Marcus squeezed in between Ken and the wall, and took the bandaged arm. 

            "It's all right, Sven.  Everything is fine."

            Ken moved back and stared in silence as Marcus checked both men and increased an automatic dosage dispenser on the one who was awake.  When he was done, he turned toward Ken.

            "These are the men you supposedly disposed of," Ken said, surprised.  He shouldn't have been, since he suspected Marcus had done something, yet he still was.  Even more, he was strangely pleased.

            "Correct.  As I told you, this is a game I've played before."

            "Don't they have cameras and listening devices for this room?" Ken asked.

            "Sloppy workmanship can have its uses, especially when encouraged.  And I never stay here long enough to make them sufficiently suspicious to want to correct the error."  Marcus checked on Sven again then closed the sliding wall.  He put the shelving back taking special care to put it exactly as it was before.  "And luckily, despite what he'd wish everyone to believe, Blake and his people can't be everywhere at once.  This is only one of the facilities he keeps his eyes on."

            Ken locked his gaze with his.  "Why are you letting me see this?"

            "Can't you guess?"

            He frowned.  Was this some sort of game too?  "Because you need my help."

            Marcus smiled but didn't answer directly.  "I've been watching you.  Seeing how you react to things.  I believe I can trust you."

            "And why is that?"

            "We both have things to lose.  And you're not willing to let even enemies die for no better reason than to save resources."

            This was as close as the doctor had ever come to admitting whom Ken was.  "What is it you hope I can do?  You've given me the excuse to come in here and check on them if that's what you want, but I'm no doctor.  I can't really help them."

            Marcus turned away toward the door.  "I want you to take them with you when you go."

 

 

#

 

            It had been nine days and there still was no sign of Ken, not even rumors he'd been discovered by their enemies.  Joe pushed the latest batch of useless reports to the side, tempted to just tear them to pieces.  He was sick and tired of the smell of paper and ink.  It was one thing to be doing something, it was quite another to be getting nowhere.

            He rubbed at his face, already feeling the beginnings of another headache.  Ever since the incident with Jun, he'd been wound up tighter than before regardless of the fact things were better.

            He glanced up at the desk across from his where Jun was busily sifting through reports of her own.  Her hair, face, and clothes were clean.  She even ate regularly, or so her brother insisted.  But her face still looked drawn, the skin around her eyes tight.  She went through each paper like an automaton, her eyes scanning quickly, her lips drawn taut.

            When they'd gotten her out of the shower, dried and fed her, he'd suggested she might want to help him with this stuff.  He figured it would be good to give her something to do.  That backfired somewhat, though.  Now they almost had to go to blows to get her to leave the damn place or even take a short break.

            Ryu and Jinpei also decided to get into the act and spent at least a couple of hours in here as well.  Ryu had only fallen asleep on top of the papers once or twice.  Not that Joe blamed him.  The things were dry as hell and would make anyone's brain go numb.  That he and the kid even lasted that long just spoke of the size of their desperation.

            Every day that went by, hell, every hour, screamed at the lessening chances they would ever find their friend.  Or if they did, that he'd even be alive.  Time was running short.

            With a weary sigh, Joe reached over for the next stack of reports.

 

 

 

#

 

 

            Marcus's words still echoed in Ken's mind minutes later. 

            The doctor had left him there, making a comment of leaving things in his care for the benefit of any listening devices out in the hallway.

            Take them with him?  What was Marcus thinking?  He'd be lucky if he were able to get himself out of here let alone three people.  He shook his head.  This was madness.  He'd known all along Marcus must have a reason to keep his identity secret, but what would the doctor do once he explained what he wanted from him was impossible?

            Still, now that the doctor took the risk and revealed what he wanted, didn't it mean Ken could ask for his aid directly?  To get him to obtain the things which would make it possible for him to escape?  He slapped his hand against armrest of the wheelchair.  This couldn't possibly work! 

            If he were somehow able to contact the outside world, he wouldn't have long to do it.  There was only so much information he would be able to impart and not run the risk of getting caught.  The ISO or even his team would charge into this place guns blazing.  And the logical entryway would be through the clinic he suspected was upstairs.  What if Chin tried to bar their way, or one of the others?  Faceless goons in a base or destructive mecha were one thing, but this place...  What the hell was he going to do?

            He still possessed no answers when he finally left the room a couple of hours later.  Though there'd not been much for him to straighten, it wouldn't do to leave too early, not after all the trouble Marcus went through to make it seem like he was needed there. 

            He wheeled himself to lunch, his mind trying to brainstorm some alternatives. He had to dismiss each idea almost as fast as he came up with them.  The logistics were impossible!  Before there'd been a slight margin of hope, but now...

            Ken picked a spot at one of the tables then wondered why he even bothered.  His appetite was gone.

            "Weight of the world, is it?"

            Startled, he looked up and found Rahul next to him with a plateful of noodles and a salad. 

            "Though your expression is not quite as serious as my teenage son's."  Chuckling, he set the food down in front of him. "He's at that despondent age."

            Ken struggled to come up with something to say.  Normally the cook paid him little attention at lunch.  "It's just hard not remembering."

            "Then perhaps it is not meant to be."  The dark eyes stared at him as if those words said all that could ever be said.

            Ken couldn't help the grin trying to tug at the edge of his lip.  If only things could truly be so simple.  "Perhaps."

            "Now eat.  And make sure to work a big appetite for tonight.  I am making mango kulfi for desert and expect much of it to be eaten by you."  The Indirian man gave him a white toothed smile before turning around and returning to the kitchen.

            Ken watched after him trying hard not to sigh.  He made himself start eating.  These people weren't faceless goons.  They had families, emotions, concerns -- they were people.  He must figure out some way to get out of here without risking them if possible.  He must!

 

 

#

 

 

            Over the next couple of days, Ken continued his slow casing of the floors allowed him.  The middle floor proved as lacking as the first.  Aside from examination, operating, and scanning rooms full of medical equipment, he absconded with a couple of things but found nothing he could really use to further his end goal. 

            Marcus continued to act just as he did before, as if there had been no major revelation.  Ken assumed either he too possessed no ideas on how to get them all out unscathed, or felt they were being watched too closely to risk anything. 

            So it was with a total sense of surprise that Ken opened yet another unassuming door and ran across a possible jackpot.  He stared, hardly daring to breathe, as he spotted the wall full of telephone routing connections and video wires.  On a small table in the back were tools, a couple of handsets, and a hand dialer tester.  He took a mental picture of the room and its contents then closed the door and went on as if what he'd seen was nothing unusual.  Yet his heart pounded in his chest alarmingly fast. 

            Finally a break.  But dare he take it?  In that room was everything he needed to connect to the outside world, but like the rest of this place, it was likely monitored.  The fact the door wasn't locked bothered him.  Was Jonas that laid back about his maintenance duties?  Was it even the orderly's domain?  Or could this be some sort of trap laid out by Blake?  He shook his head.  He could go around and around on this for years and not have any answers.  Perhaps a change was what was needed.

            He returned to the same floor where Blake met him secretly.  He retraced his way back to the handset, then slowly followed back the way he'd seen the captain leave.  He looked for anything out of the ordinary.  A discoloration on the metal walls, an incongruous seam, anything.  He wished he could run his hands over the walls, tap on them, but the risk was too great.  He made one pass and then another.  Nothing.

            "Looking for me?"

            Ken spun the wheelchair around, just in time to catch a slight bit of movement beyond Blake's black dressed form.  The floor!  He didn't have to feign his shock.  "Y-yes.  You didn't give me a way to contact you."

            Blake posed before him his arms spread wide.  "Yet here I am, just when you wanted to find me."  He came close, his lips spreading into a hungry grin.  "Did you find something?"

            "Actually, no.  Marcus spends most of his time on the upper levels and hardly even comes down except for meals and sleep.  Is it possible whatever it is you're looking for is up there?"

            "No.  Too exposed.  Too easy.  Keep looking."  Blake leaned forward and placed his hands on the armrests of the wheelchair, trapping Ken there.  "It's fortuitous you're here, actually.  I have some questions."

            Ken felt a lump in the pit of his stomach.

            "Have you regained any memories since we last spoke?"

            Ken made sure not to look away.  "A few images.  But I can't connect them to anything."

            "Where do you come from?"

            "I-I don't know."

            "Who were your parents?  What city did you live in?  What was the name of your favorite pet?"

            "I don't know.  I don't remember.  Why are you asking me all this?"

            "Your first girlfriend?  You first kiss?  Answer the moment I ask.  Do it, don't think.  Where did you train?  Answer!  What skills do you have?"  The questions came faster and faster.

            Ken realized what Blake was doing.  He instantly blanked his mind.  The Galactor captain was trying to trip him into giving information.  Problem was his method might work with memory loss, to pluck lost knowledge by giving the recipient little time to think.  But this would also work against someone pretending to have no memory, the tendency being to want to answer.  Either way, Ken couldn't afford to give anything away.  "I don't know.  I don't know.  I can't remember!  Don't you think I want to?"  He pushed as much frustration into his tone as he could.

            He didn't have to work at looking flustered though.  He was so very tired of these games.

            Blake stopped, stared hard at him for a moment then straightened up away from the chair.  "All right.  I guess that's that then."  He cocked his head to the side for a moment as if listening to something Ken couldn't hear.  He came around the chair and before Ken could turn around to follow, the Galactor grabbed hold of the chair's handles.  He leaned forward his lips very close to Ken's ear.  "Seems it's time for dinner.  You should get upstairs before you're missed."  He gave a soft chortle. "Don't forget to keep your eyes open.  I will see you again soon." 

            Blake turned the chair around and gave it a hard shove down the corridor.

            By the time Ken gained control of it and turned around, the Galactor was gone.  Turning back around, he headed toward the elevator.  His emotions were in turmoil.  He was thrilled at knowing about where the secret entrance lay.  Yet he was sickened at Blake's continued attempts to get him to work for him, and disturbed by the questioning drill.  Worst of all though, he felt cornered.  He could feel the time for action slipping away, yet his hands were tied.  Even as he got closer to his goal, the finish line seemed to grow farther and farther away from him.

            He hid all this away during dinner, trying to act as normal as possible.  Once everyone started to disperse for the evening, Ken made sure to catch Marcus's eye.  "Doc, can I talk to you a minute?"

            "What is it, John?  Your back?"

            Ken shook his head.  "No, nothing like that."  He waited to make sure the others went on their way and prepared for the audience he couldn't get rid of.  "Ah, remember the supply room you showed me the other day?"

            A slight frown creased the doctor's face for a moment.  "Yes?"

            "Well, uhm, would you help me with it?  I need some stuff off of one of the higher shelves and...to be honest...I-I couldn't bring myself to ask one of the others to get it down for me."

            "Your condition is nothing to be embarrassed about."

            "I know that!  But I just couldn't.  Will you help me?"  He risked a glance in the doctor's direction, not having to try hard to fake the feelings of embarrassment and frustration at needing assistance.  He felt his face flush as he realized that up to now, he really had been trying to do everything on his own, only taking help when thrust on him, but never asking for it.  Was he that full of pride?  Risking his life and that of others just so he could pretend he was able to do things on his own?

            "Of course.  Did you want to do it now?"

            Ken thought he caught a hint of approval in Marcus's eyes.  He couldn't tell if it was for his acting ability or the excuse which would enable them to have a few minutes of private conversation together.

            Not much later they were both in the unmonitored supply room.  Ken said nothing right away, giving Marcus time to check on his secret patients.

            "Blake was back again today."

            Marcus closed the wall and sent him a worried glance.  "It bothers you."

            "His instincts are sharp.  He tried to test my memory today.  Last time he asked if I knew if you'd received any trace paperwork back.  I assume there was never any paperwork actually sent?"

            "I have copies filed here as per procedure, but you're correct, the originals that should have gone to Records at HQ took a side trip elsewhere."  Marcus removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.  He looked tired.

            "I have to ask you, are there any other places with blind spots like this one?  The phone room by any chance?"  He was reaching and he knew it, but he needed to know.

            The doctor faced him squarely and shook his head.  "Unfortunately, no.  This was all I could manage.  I didn't mean to put so much pressure on you the other day, but you're the only hope these men have."

            "I thought you said you'd done this before."

            Marcus nodded.  "I have.  But Blake is a different breed than his predecessors.  The others didn't mind turning a blind eye here and there as long as one was discreet.  Blake is not so obliging." 

            Ken sighed, then ran a hand through his hair.  "Okay."  He stared at the doctor, asking himself if he truly trusted this man or not.  Yes, the man could have turned him in whenever he wished during this entire time, knowing what he knew, but what if all this was some convoluted trap to nab the others too?  Or was he just too afraid to face the fact he couldn't do this alone?   He didn't have the luxury to puzzle this out at his convenience, though.  It was time to take some risks.  "You're able to leave this facility, right?" 

            "I don't personally leave it often, but yes, it is allowed.  And I visit the local orphanage about once a week to check on the children there."  There was an expression of expectation on his face.

            "I have a phone number and codes you can use.  You'll need to explain everything you can.  You're going to have to make them believe you.   They will assume it's a trap since the call isn't from me.  So you'll need to give them as much information as you can if you don't want Marsha and the others to get hurt when they come for me and them."  He nodded in the direction of the secret wall.

            A smile flashed brightly for a moment on Marcus's dark features.  "I will convince them.  You can leave it to me."

            Ken found himself smiling back. 

 

 

#

 

 

            Today was the day.  Marcus already left some time ago on his weekly visit to the orphanage and while he was out the doctor would find somewhere private from which to make the call.  Now that he'd committed himself, Ken found the sting of needing help not all that painful-at least not in this.  Soon he would be going home.

            He toyed with the blanket draped over his legs and realized there were some facts he would have to face once this was over-life changing matters.  But they would wait.   He needed to take one thing at a time.  His thoughts turned once more to the doctor.

            He didn't exactly understand the man or even agree with his latest choice in employers, despite his need to practice.  But his sincerity in his craft was never under question.  He'd kept Ken's secret all this time, endangering himself and his staff just by saving his life.  He was sure Nambu could pull some strings and get Marcus reinstated, even if they had to change his identity for his protection, which might make things easier still.  Men with his kind of dedication needed to be saving people on their side.  Not letting a man like him use his talents for others, those who truly deserved it, was a waste.

            Maybe the rest of the staff would come with them as well.  Allow themselves to be questioned and give over what little they knew then be given new lives working for the world instead of against it. 

            He was probably being too optimistic, even unrealistic, but he could hope it might be true anyway.

            The butterflies churned in his stomach as he glanced at his watch for the hundredth time.  He needed a distraction and his light duties weren't cutting it at the moment.  His exercises were already done for the day, so that was out.  Hopefully one of the dog-eared books in his room could distract him for a while.  He wouldn't get a chance to see Marcus until dinner.  How did Nambu handle having to wait all the time? 

            Ken turned into his room and was halfway in before he realized someone was already in there.  The handrails pressed hard against his palms as he grabbed them to bring himself to a sudden stop.

            "There you are.  I figured you'd be along eventually."  Blake stood leaning against the nightstand.  In a raised hand he was freely twirling the Rolex he'd given Ken around a finger.  The other, tucked beneath his other arm, held a nine-millimeter Beretta.

            "You've been quite busy, haven't you, John?"  Blake inclined his head toward the bed.

            Ken saw the stash of items he accumulated during his rounds spread out on the blanket covering the bed.  "Can you blame me?  With you and your people's disdain of the infirm, and my memory being shot, who's to say when the lot of you might decide I am suddenly not fit enough." 

            Blake laughed, throwing the Rolex on the bed with the rest of the stuff.  "Nice try.  I'll give you that." 

            Ken felt his previous butterflies turn into rocks.  He couldn't tell if the captain was referring to the materials he'd gathered or something else.  The pit of dread spreading inside him voted for the latter.

            Blake straightened up and aimed the Beretta in Ken's direction erasing all doubt.  "The game is over."

            "What game?"  Mentally Ken scrambled to figure out how far he was from the door and what his chances were if he tried to make a run for it.  The answer wasn't pretty.

            "Going to play coy are we?  All right.  I'll lay it all out for you."  The smile on his face was smug.  "Marcus made a mistake, that's what.  I knew he was up to something and I was going to catch the bastard at it.  Putting on airs all the time as if his kind were worth anything.  If Katse-sama didn't need every last hand, there would be certain policies in place about the unpure, I can guarantee you that."

            Ken blinked.  So Blake's constant harassment of Marcus and his facilities was more than just his work, it was racial?  Was the man mad?

            "Anyway, as I told you before, I knew he was up to something.  The numbers didn't add up.  Missing paperwork, missing bodies.  He's a careful one, but he underestimated me...and so did you."  Without warning, Blake rushed forward and kicked Ken's chair on the side.

            With the blunt force, the chair tilted and before Ken could try to stop it, sent them both crashing to the floor.  Pain flared from his hip and leg as he smacked the ground.  The second surprised him, but he had no time to think of what it might mean.  Instead, he braced himself up on his elbows, letting one hand slide beneath the thrown blanket to his shorts pocket.  "I still don't know what you're talking about!  I'm working for you!"

            Blake grabbed the fallen chair and yanked it away from him.  "Oh he was careful, so very careful.  But he never dreamed I'd have him on full surveillance whenever he went out.  You see, I was figuring he had them stashed out there somewhere, the orphanage perhaps?  So I've been having my people eavesdrop on his conversations.  So imagine my surprise when I get a frantic call today about a one sided phone conversation Marcus is having.  And what an interesting phone conversation it was.  Can you imagine what it could have been about?"  The smile he gave Ken was deadly cold.

            "I don't have the faintest idea.  But I have a feeling you're about to tell me."  Slowly, ever so slowly, he grabbed hold of one of the items in his pocket.  He pushed up to support himself on his hands rather than the forearms.

            "Oh I don't think I have to, do I, Gatchaman?"  His lip twitched.  "You and I will be leaving this facility, but my people will remain here to take Marcus and the others in hand then lay a trap for your little friends."  He laughed in satisfaction then soured as he stared hard at Ken again.  "Destroying that pretty face will be a real shame."

            Ken moved.  Putting his weight on his left arm, he shot out his right, releasing the concealed scalpel at Blake.

            The surprised Galactor didn't have time to move.  The short blade embedded itself into his shoulder and made him drop his gun.

            Ken didn't wait to see if he hit his target.  The moment the throw was released, he backpedaled with his arms to drag his body out of the room.  As soon as he was out, he grabbed his legs and swung them out and around until he was on his stomach facing toward the doorway.  His right hand reached down and pulled out another scalpel from the case in his pocket.

            "You little bastard!  You think this is going to stop me?"

            The instant Blake's leg made it past the threshold, Ken lunged forward and dragged the surgical knife across the back of the Achilles tendon.  The sharp blade sliced through the uniform, the skin, and the muscles beneath.  Blake screamed in pain, his leg caving in and dropping him to the floor.  Blood streamed from the wound, the coppery smell of it wafting around them.  Ken rapid punched the captain's right kidney and then hit it again and again, knowing his lack of leverage was blunting the blows. 

            Blake whimpered, but still struggled to rise off the floor.  Ken pulled him close and trapped him beneath his dead weight.  Gasping for breath at the exertion, he grabbed a couple of Blake's helmet streamers and wrapped them around the Galactor's neck then pulled with all his might.

            The captain reached back and tried to pull him off, but couldn't gain any purchase.  He beat at Ken's leg to no avail.  Ken thought he felt something, but spared it no attention, needing to concentrate on keeping the streamers tight against Blake's neck.

            The Galactor's struggles grew weaker and weaker and finally ceased.  Ken pulled back even harder not willing to take the risk the man might be shamming.  Arms straining, he released the cloth all at once, falling on top of the body, breathing hard.  The dead man's head struck the floor with a hollow thud. 

            Move you fool!  You don't have time for this.  Ken forced himself up again.  If Blake brought his people as he said, they would be missing him soon.  He needed to do what he could before they came looking.  The only good thing about the situation was Blake might not have left anyone monitoring the place.  Problem was, for how long?

            Ken dragged himself off the Galactor and sat on the floor.  He then pulled the body onto his legs before dragging himself backwards back into the room.  His hand almost slipped as it landed in a pool of blood from Blake's cut leg.  Straining, he was able to get them back over by the bed.  He searched the body and found a small control on his belt as well as a keycard. 

            Tucking them away, he then rolled the limp body beneath the bed.  Cursing his lack of motion, he grabbed the blanket on the ground and cleaned up the blood as best he could, then himself.   After throwing the covering in after Blake, he struggled to get the wheelchair upright and himself back in it.  He grabbed the Beretta from the floor and tucked it beneath his thigh.

            Arms shaking from continued strain, he wheeled himself out of there and headed toward the elevator. 

            To his amazement and relief he met no one and the elevator was empty.  He pressed the button for the floor he wanted, cold sweat gathering at his brow.  If anyone decided to stop the conveyance, he would be trapped, helpless until they decided to let him out.  Just having the thought made his skin prickle.  The moment the door dinged open he pushed himself through, scraping his knuckles against the still sliding doors.

            Ken's senses were primed for any sound of pursuit as he rushed down the hallways to his destination.  It was a gamble, but he had no choice.  Marcus, the others, his friends lives might very well depend on his getting out now.

            He rolled to a stop in the same hallway he saw Blake before this latest visit.  Trying not to think of what he'd do if this didn't work, he brought out the Galactor's small controller.  Aiming it at the floor, he pressed the largest button.   A slab of floor slid noiselessly out of sight, revealing an opening.  Ken slid the wheelchair forward.

            A set of plastic stairs swept down into a dimly lit corridor below.  Both the entry and steps were wide enough to hold him and the wheelchair.  But would they be broad enough?

            Ken massaged his arms, staring at his way down.  He could do this.  He must do this.  Tucking the controller away so he wouldn't lose it, he took a deep breath and grabbed the wheels of the chair.  He pushed against his seat and tilted it back, still holding the wheels in place.  As soon as he felt he reached a balanced spot at the new angle, he inched the chair forward.

            The first drop was a jolt and his hands almost slipped from the wheels.  He closed his eyes to better concentrate on his task and took several deep, calming breaths.  He inched the chair forward again. 

            His teeth rattled every time the chair took another step, but he still made it to the bottom unscathed.  Using the controller to close the way above, he then wheeled himself down the only available corridor.  Lonely bulbs dimly illuminated the way, pipes filling both sides of the passage.  The air smelled slightly musty and was still.  Ken pushed faster.

            A turn brought him to the end.  His shoulders slumped at the sight before him.  It was a long, rising set of stairs.  He could go down in the chair, but there was only one way he would be able to go up.

            He gained a couple of more bruises getting out of the chair onto the floor.  He stared at it, sorry to be leaving it behind, but having little choice.  He was sure he would regret it later though.  Setting his back up against the first step, he raised both of his palms up onto the higher one and pulled the rest of his body to it.  Step by step he pulled himself up, staring down the way he'd come rather than where he was going.  The Beretta was a nice weight against his neck and chest, half tucked into his collar.

            The smell of sweat circled around him, his underarms and back soon soaked through.  His useless legs dragged against the lower treads and nosing of the steps, occasionally sending signals of discomfort to his brain as they struck against them.  So he didn't imagine it before, something was happening, sensation was returning to his dead limbs.  He was elated and disgusted all at once.  Of all the times for his body to decide to start to recover...

            A cramp made one arm slip and it was several painful steps before Ken was able to bring himself to a stop and not slide down all the way to the bottom.  With grim determination, he massaged the arm until the spasm eased then started dragging himself up again.  Up, pull, drag, rest, up, pull, drag, rest.  He focused on this narrow world, the feeling of fleeting time nipping at his awareness.

            His head bumped painfully against an object behind him.  In an exhausted daze, he glanced back and found a steel plate above.  Glancing back the way he came, he was forced to close his eyes as a round of dizziness made the deep stairs spin.  Fumbling for the controller tucked at his waist, he pressed the button.  The cover slid aside.  Bright sunlight blinded him after the dim interior.  A hot wave of heat and wind wafted past him, dragging with it the stench of rotting trash.

            Again having little choice, Ken pulled himself up and out of the stairs, blinking rapidly.  Dirty, white washed walls surrounded him on three sides.   The open way turned to his right.  There was no one in sight.  Wiping the sweat off his face, he put his arms back to work and dragged himself to the corner of the cul-de-sac.  A short alley wound off into a busy street, exhaust fumes visible from the vehicles as they hustled by.  Pedestrian traffic was thankfully light.  With his pale skin, blue eyes, and useless legs, he would stick out and be remembered by anyone who saw him.  He dragged himself toward the street and pulled up next to a pile of old baskets.  The scent of curry and mildewing straw wrapped around him as he put his back against the wall and then pulled his legs up to keep them out of sight. 

            Though partially cut off, he could still see the street and the narrow sidewalks.  Had they started to miss Blake yet?  Had they found his body?  How many of them knew about this exit?  Were their monitors set up to tape?  What the hell was he going to do now?  Trying to calm his frazzled mind, he tried to weigh his options but found little there. 

            His eyes widened as he spotted Marcus coming along the sidewalk on the other side of the street.  The ever present white lab coat was gone, and the doctor cut a fine figure in a light brown day suit. 

            Ken started to lean forward, his mouth opening to yell the doctor's name, then just as quickly he ducked back out of sight and clamped his mouth shut.  The man was being followed, Blake had made that totally clear.  If he called out to Marcus, it would only get them both caught.  He'd get no help from that direction.  His hands clenched in frustration, knowing he was going to have to let his only ally fall into the hands of those waiting for him at the clinic.  He was totally useless!  Why did he even bother escaping?  Ken banged the back of his head lightly over and over against the wall.

            His friends were coming; he must do something!  The chances they would travel down this way and that he would even see them, let alone be able to attract their attention were nil.  He didn't even have any idea how quickly they might get there.  They could be at the clinic already for all he knew.

            He smashed his fist against the pile of baskets, the brittle weave caving in slightly.  He stared at the dent, an idea suddenly forming.  A desperate, possibly useless idea, but an idea nevertheless.  It was more than he possessed before.

            With slightly shaking hands, he removed the clip from the Beretta.  He took out a couple of rounds from the thirteen-load clip and then put the latter back.  Using his last scalpel, he pried the casing from around the bullet top of one of the rounds and tried to loosen it.  Once done, he used the edge of one of the pitted holes on the wall next to him to pop it out.  He then sprinkled the packed gunpowder on a stray strand on the bottom most basket.  He repeated the process with the second cartridge. 

            Cutting a section off the bottom of his shirt, he tore the threads loose into a small bundle and placed them into the vacated cartridge and over the gunpowder.  Shifting his body away from the pile, he held the first cartridge close to the gunpowder then used the butt of the Beretta to strike at the round's primer.  There was a pop and then heat as the threads inside ignited and lit the gunpowder and other threads as well.

            Flinching, Ken quickly dragged himself back away from the resulting puff of smoke.  A trickle of flame blossomed on the dry reeds and slowly spread.  Within minutes, he was forced to push back farther into the alley to remove himself from the rising heat.

            Either people would come to put out the fire, from whom he would attempt to get help for himself, or possibly, if he was very, very lucky, it would attract the attention of the ninja team and they would come investigate it before moving onto the clinic.  Worst case, Galactor would come check it out and capture him.  But at least he would have done something instead of just sitting helplessly by not having any say in his fate or that of those he cared for.

            The scent of curry and rot intensified and Ken coughed as the wind swept the dark, spewing cloud toward him.  The smoke grew heavier and made his eyes water.  A fit of coughing took him then, forcing him to double over.

            "Holy crap!  Ken?"

            He thought the voice came from above but wasn't sure.  A moment later, a heavy weight landed not far from him.  With a strange feeling of déjà vu, Ken tried to see who was there, his hand straying toward the Beretta.

            "Thank goodness!  You're alive!"  Big arms suddenly swept him up to his feet.  "I can't believe it!"

            "R-Ryu?"  Ken felt like a ragdoll, his unresponsive legs swaying left and right.

            "Gah, this smoke stinks like Jinpei's socks.  Let's go up." 

            Before he realized what his friend meant, the two of them were moving upwards, zipping from window ledge to window ledge until they reached the building's roof.  Clearer air swept past them, giving his lungs a much needed respite.

            "I gotta tell the others!"  Ryu let go of him.  Ken was forced to reach out and latch on to his teammate, his legs unable to hold him.  "Ken!  You're hurt?"

            "Just set me down on the ground, my legs aren't working at the moment."

            "Oh crap!  Sorry." 

            Ken could clearly see the other's red-faced chagrin through his visor.  He was helped down as gently as a cloud against a pipe protruding from the floor that he could use as a backrest.  Ryu then flopped down on the roof, and crossed legs in front of him.  He brought his wrist communicator up.  "Guys, guys, I found him!  Ken is with me right now!"

            Three sets of voices clamored for attention over the wristcomm at once.  Ken felt his chest tighten just hearing it; he'd missed them all horribly.  "Ryu, tell them not to go to the clinic.  It's a trap.  I need them to come here."

            "We're on the roof of the building with the smoke.  Ken wants us all over here.  The other place is a trap."

            Within moments, three separate blurs made their way to the roof.  The moment they spotted their seated forms they rushed right to them.

            "Ken!"  Jun fell to her knees beside him.  Tears flooded from her eyes, her lips quivering.  From her pale face and red eyes, it was obvious she'd not taken his disappearance well.

            "It's so good to see you, Aniki."  Jinpei knelt on his other side, tears glinting in his eyes as well.

            "Took you long enough to let us know where you were."

            Ken felt a twinge of annoyance at his second in command until he looked up into his face and saw his eyes too were far from clear.  "Believe me, if there'd been any way to let you know sooner, I would have taken it."

            Ryu stood, halfway putting himself between Ken and Joe as if to protect him from the former.  "He's hurt!  You shouldn't be picking on him!"

            "Is it your back?"  Jun's question was barely audible.

            "Aniki, if this place has Galactor around, we should get you out of here now."

            "No!"

            Four startled faces gave him their full attention.

            Ken stared at them dead on.  "There are people in there who helped me.  Without them I would have been killed or worse.  I won't leave without them."

            "So you want us to walk into the trap then?" 

            He couldn't quite read Joe's conflicting expression.  "No.  There's a back way in.  You can catch them by surprise instead and turn the trap around.  You'll just need to override the monitoring devices and an elevator."

            The Condor's expression cleared.  "Okay, tell us where."

            "Better yet, I'll show you."  He signaled for Ryu to come over.

            Joe put his hand against the Owl's chest to stop him.  "No, you won't.  You're in no condition to come with us."

            Jun lowered her head as if taking the fact as an additional weight on her shoulders.  Jinpei looked away and even Ryu wouldn't meet Ken's gaze.  Was this where his extraction from the team would begin?  Fear, anger, and insecurity battled inside him.  Glaring at Joe, he forced all of these feelings aside.  This wasn't about him right now.  "I don't expect you to take me with you into combat.  While you're taking care of Galactor upstairs I need to show one of you some hidden berths with injured personnel.  They will need to be extracted.  And I can't just tell you where they are."   He could hear his bitterness in the last, but there was nothing he could do about it.

            Joe stared at him a moment longer then his features softened.  He nodded.  "All right."  He turned to Ryu.  "You're in charge of him.  Make sure nothing happens."

            Ken grimaced internally, the need for Ryu to carry him and Joe's words making him feel like extraneous luggage. 

            Without a word, Ryu knelt down and picked him up. 

            "Here."  Jun's gloved hand was in front of him, the rest of her out of his immediate sight.  "I thought you would want it."  On her palm was his missing wristcomm bracelet. 

            "Thanks."  He took off Marcus's watch and shoved it in his pocket, then put the bracelet on.  It was as if a missing part of his body had been returned to him.  "The secret entrance is behind the alley."

            Four blurs zipped across the roof and down the other side.  Ken used the remote control to open the doorway and they hurried inside.  The stairs blurred beneath him as the group rushed forward.  When they got to the bottom, the group slowed, staring at the discarded wheelchair at the bottom. 

            "I'll need that." 

            They stopped.  Jinpei grabbed the chair and placed it upright.  He stared from the chair, to Ken, to the long set of stairs.  "Dang, Aniki."

            Ryu placed Ken in the chair.  "I'll push.  We'll go faster."  He didn't argue.

            As they ran down the corridor, Ken quickly filled them in on what little he knew of the security and monitoring devices.

            When they reached the end of the corridor, he once again used the remote control device.  Joe rushed up to check that the hall was clear.  Ryu then grabbed Ken, chair and all, and took him up the few steps.  The rest followed. 

            "The elevator is down that hall, to the left."  Ken pointed to his right.  "Ryu we need to go this way."

            Jun and Jinpei rushed down the corridor, the former throwing one last concerned glance in his direction.  Ryu turned the wheelchair to where Ken indicated.  Joe's hand landed on the armrest before they could go.

            "You two call instantly if anything happens."  He turned his focus on Ken.  "We finally found you.  Don't make us have to go looking for you again."

            It sounded like something Ken might find himself telling his friend, not the other way around.  He found his throat too tight to make a response, so he only nodded.  They parted ways.

            Ken directed Ryu on where to go and soon they made it to the supply closet.  Ryu moved the shelves and opened the secret door.  He whistled in appreciation at the berths hidden behind it.  "Nice set up."

            Ken didn't pay his teammate much attention, wondering more about how the others were doing. Had they been able to bypass the security on the elevator?  Did they get topside before anything rash was done to the others?  Under other circumstances, he would have been the one leading the charge.

            "I'm sure they're all fine."  Ryu was sheepishly staring at him.

            "You're probably right."  He glanced back at the two patients.  "Can we move them?"

            Ryu grinned.  "Easily!  Whoever came up with these was real smart.  They're self-contained, and can be moved.  It'll make it a lot easier on us and them too."  As if to prove it, he disconnected two places on either end of the top berth, and grunting, pulled it away from the hidden space and set it on the floor.  "Nambu Hakase has medical personnel and a transport waiting for our call."  He glanced back at Ken not quite meeting his eyes.  "He wasn't sure what kind of shape you'd be in."

            Prepared for the worst were they?  He felt a cold shiver run down the back of his neck.  Was Nambu already considering replacements for him then?  Had he already written him off?  Ken closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He wasn't being fair to his mentor.  Better not to make any assumptions.  He didn't think he could handle it.

            Aside from an occasional moan from Sven and the sound of the air system, it remained quiet.  Too quiet.  What was taking them so long?

            Their wristcomms chirped.  "G-1, here."  Would this be the last time he would be able to say that?

            Joe's gruff voice came from the comm unit.  "This is G-2.  We're done up here.  G-3 is calling for the backup now.  The workers are a little banged up, but otherwise okay.  We're coming down to pick up the extra packages.  Plus I have someone up here eager to see you."

            Ken breathed a sigh of relief.  This part of the nightmare was almost over.

            Several minutes later, there was a knock at the supply room door and then it opened.  It was Marcus.  Joe and Jun were behind him.  Aside from a torn lapel and a cut on one ear, the doctor looked well.

            "John!  Are you all right?"  Marcus came forward and gave him a once over. 

            "Fine.  Just tired.  The others?"

            Marcus moved to check on Sven and the other patient.  "Well enough.  It was good your friends arrived.  I believe things were about to get uncomfortable."

            Joe snorted.  "From what I saw, that's a big understatement."

            Marcus turned toward Ken, his expression grave.  "I've not seen Blake."

            "He won't be a problem anymore."  He didn't elucidate.

            Marcus looked as if he wanted to ask for more information, but didn't press.  Ryu and Jun exchanged puzzled glances.  Joe only stared at them more intently than before.

            "ISO personnel will be here presently.  They'll evacuate the two patients as well as you and your people."  For the first time since they met, Ken saw the doctor look uncertain.  "Is something wrong?"

            "We will be staying."

            "You can't!"  Ken couldn't keep the disbelief or surprise from his voice.  For them to stay would be paramount to suicide.  This man saved his life; he couldn't just let him throw his own away.

            Marcus straightened.  "We can.  And we will.  There's a lot of good we can do here.  I am hoping there is a lot of good we can help each other do in future as well."

            "They'll kill you all."

            "With a little inventive story telling, I think we'll be fine.  It's a risk I'm willing to take.  I think you'll find the others willing as well.  Though if any wish to go with you, I won't stop them."  He stared at Ken closely.  "If some extra damage could be added to what's already been done, and perhaps a few incriminating bits to lead those investigating to certain conclusions about Blake and his staff, me and mine would be purely innocent bystanders."

            Ken frowned.              "But the ISO could give you a new start, new identities.  It would make all this unnecessary."

            "John, the longer you argue the more risk we run by remaining here," Joe pointed out.  "If he wants to stay, let him.  It's his choice."  His arms were crossed and he stared at the two of them as if they were both strangers.  What was that about?  The others shuffled behind them but continued to keep quiet.

            Marcus sent the Condor a surprised look and a half amused smile, before returning his attention to Ken.  "Do you remember your time before you were brought here?"

            He wondered what this had to do with anything.  "No.  I recall some strange images, smells, but nothing concrete."

            Marcus nodded as if he expected no less.  "These two men here were not the only ones marked for death.  There were fifteen other survivors who were killed before we ever reached this facility.   With the amount of bases destroyed on a regular basis, all of them now have underground bunkers where survivors can escape to if given a chance.  Medical personnel congregate there as well as security.  They salvage all they can before the UN and their teams arrive."  His voice lost inflection, as if distancing itself from something distasteful.  "We save whom we can, but security has priority, and so does the saving of information and technology.  Everything that can be moved is then taken away, men and materials.  But some of the wounded can't be moved or are too far gone to be expected to recover.  They get left behind and are destroyed with the bunkers themselves."

            A gasp came from one of the others, but Ken didn't know which.  His skin grew cold.  He could have easily been one of those people.

            "These are the ones I want to help.  To give a chance to.  These are the ones I hope the ISO can aid."

            "I - understand.  I will pass this information on.  I'm sure someone will contact you and it'll go from there."  At least Ken hoped so.  What would or would not be done would be out of his hands.  But he could push as much as his soon to be demoted state would allow.

            "Thank you."

            Ken saw the gratitude shine in the doctor's gaze.  He wasn't totally sure how he felt about it.  Anything the ISO or the UN could come up with would still involve a large amount of personal risk for Marcus and the others here.

            Ryu's wristcomm beeped.  "G-5, here."

            "Where are you guys?" Jinpei demanded from the other end.  "The medics are here."

            "Uhm..." Ryu looked over at Ken.

            "Tell him we'll be there soon."

            "And to keep his pants on!"  Joe added.

            Joe and Ryu took charge of the berths with Marcus monitoring their readings closely.  Ken turned his chair to follow, when gloved hands fell on the handles at his back. 

            "I'll do it."  Jun's soft whisper was barely audible.

            Ken opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut.  If she needed to do this for him, he'd let her.  If his worst fears were realized, would she wrap herself in guilt about his infirmity though she had nothing to do with it?  He hoped not.

            It didn't take them long to reach the elevator and make their way upstairs.  For the first time since he arrived there, Ken was able to rise above the third floor. 

            The doors opened into a back office filled with well-worn furniture and old cabinets.  Folders of unfiled paperwork filled the top of the desk.  The clinic proper was full of people.  The shades to the windows were drawn, and a large covered truck could be seen just outside the glass front door.

            "Finally!"  Jinpei about leapt to their side.  "Aniki, they're asking me all sorts of questions and I didn't know what you wanted me to tell them."

            "Don't worry about it."  Ken wheeled himself forward.  A pile of three Galactor goons sat on the left.  They'd already been bagged; only the area around the face still open.  On the left, on a long bench, the people who worked at the facility sat stiffly, shock and fear marring their faces, two guards with weapons trained on them.  Aside from a torn sleeve and a bruise or two though, they looked otherwise unharmed.  It warmed him to see it.

            Ken retreated back into the previous room, the security man in charge moving in his direction.  He didn't want the others to see him as anyone of importance.  It would further keep them from harm.

            "Sir, there's a small fire with a lot of smoke about a block away that's bringing a lot of attention to the area.  We should evacuate you as soon as possible.  Your safety was to be our first concern." 

            Ken tried not to grimace, knowing who was responsible for the tumult outside.  "I think I am more than sufficiently guarded at the moment and am not in any immediate danger."  He saw Jinpei grin and puff out his chest.  "What we do need is some inventive arranging.  Do you have any technical people here as well?  With scanners?"

            The slightly balding man's brow rose.  "We have some equipment we brought with us just in case..."

            "Use it.  This place is riddled with surveillance equipment and I need the source tracked and records destroyed or modified."  Ken pressed on, finally finding something he could handle.  "The equipment itself needs to be left in place, but I need overrides installed and a control placed in the blind supply room on the fourth level."  He glanced at Marcus and saw the doctor's eyes widen in surprise.  It would make for a nice little gift.  The doctor would need the ability if he were to start working covertly with the ISO.  "Those bodies out there and another on the third level will need to placed by the fire and also in a secret passage in the back.  Some damage in that area and wherever their main hold is at are crucial."  It would be apt justice to use Blake and his people to throw suspicion of Marcus and the others.

            "What about those people out there?"  The medic pointed back toward the clinic employees.

            "They're to remain as is.  Give them the option to come with us, but if they don't take it, they're free to go." 

            The medic nodded.  "We'll get to it then."  The support team got to work, Ken's own group keeping close. 

            "I guess that's all then, isn't it?"  Marcus stretched out his hand.

            Ken took it, feeling somewhat torn.  "I suppose so.  Thank you for everything."

            "Thank you, John.  Perhaps someday we will meet again."  Marcus let go, then moved around him to join his fellow workers.  In soft hurried tones, he spoke to them as the guards backed off and put away their weapons.

            Ken hoped they would be well. 

            "Time to get you home."

            Ken glanced up at Joe at his pronouncement.  The rest of the team nodded and converged on him, brooking no disagreement.

 

 

#

 

 

            "Can you feel that?"

            Ken had to swallow hard before he could answer.  He'd gone through a battery of never-ending tests since his return two days ago, but it was this simple one, which held the biggest impact for him.  "Yes."

            Nambu nodded and put Ken's foot back down looking incredibly pleased.  Ken doubted it was near half of what he felt at the moment.

            "That's good, right?  Right?"  The team's youngest member got into the doctor's personal space almost jumping up and down.

            "Jinpei!" Jun grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back toward the door.  "Did you forget what Hakase said?"  She lightly backhanded the side of his head.

            "But, Neechan, is it good news?"

            "Yeah, squirt, it's great news.  Now stand still and be quiet."  Joe drilled a knuckle into the kid's head.  Ryu was grinning from ear to ear. 

            Ken felt like doing the same, but though the tidings were positive, it still didn't mean he would be normal anytime soon.  "What now, Hakase?"

            Nambu looked at all of them.  "The feeling in the limbs has spread fast and so far there have been no indications of permanent damage.  We can start you on therapy as early as this afternoon.  If everything goes as indicated, you should be up and around in a month or two.  As to active duty, we will have to wait and see.  But I am quite hopeful."

            "Yes!"  Jinpei jumped up and down and this time Jun did nothing to stop him, a shy smile on her lips and tears glistening in her eyes.  Ryu thumped Joe on the back while laughing, the latter looking incredibly relieved.

            Ken did smile this time.  Nambu's words the sweetest ones he ever heard.

 

 

 

The End