PART II

 

Mark stood alone on the dock, a hover boat bobbing in the water and occasionally squeaking against the old tires used for bumpers. Donald was late, and no one had heard from him. G-4 had missed his check in call...and Mark was worried.

He leaned against the tie off pole and looked into the sky, finding an eagle soaring on the thermals created by the hot, morning sun. He grinned. With an omen like that, maybe the day wouldn't turn out to be so bad.

Mark knew that Donald hated him, but he could never figure out why. He got along with Tiny, Princess, even Jason, a whole lot better than with G-4. What had he done to Donald that made the guy hate him so much?

Anderson had told him, more than once, that Donald's psych profile was 'uncommon', but that could mean just about anything. Mark did know that Donald seemed to view things in a way that others didn't. Sometimes, as far as the team was concerned, it could be a good thing. In Donald's personal life, his cynicism had spoiled many relationships. Mark sighed and looked out at the water, towards Neptune. Maybe the life was too much for G-4 to handle.

The Commander of G-Force was about to radio Anderson for permission to assemble the team and go find Donald, when the buzz of G-4's SAI 660 sounded faintly in the distance. The machine's engine signature was unmistakable, even in camouflaged form. Mark stretched, took a deep breath, and prepared for the black storm cloud known as Donald Wade.

 

Donald raced towards the dock, his bike throbbing under him relentlessly. He was late, and it would be just another reason for Mark to ride his ass. Donald banked around a sharp curve that followed the rocky coastline, and thought of what his life had become in the last 24 hours.

Not only was he no longer a virgin, but he was now the lover of a Spectran agent. His mind raced as fast as his bike, repeating over and over again the experiences of the night before. He smiled at the thoughts, and tried to squeeze more speed from the machine. He knew full well that G-1 would be waiting at the dock, ready to grill him. He might as well get it over with.

He slowed to safe speed as he entered the fishing village that served as a cover for the employees of Center Neptune, and headed for the docks. He could see Mark standing there, and could feel the eyes of the villagers on him, knowing that he had screwed up. Why couldn't they just mind their own goddamned business?

He cut the engine as he pulled up beside Mark. Neither spoke, the only sounds were the hover boat squeaking against the bumpers, and the ticking of Donald's engine. Mark looked at Donald for a long time before speaking.

"I'm glad to see you. I was worried."

Donald smirked sourly.

"I'll bet."

Mark sighed, angrily.

"What the hell is your problem, Don? Why is everything such a downer with you?"

Donald grimaced, and shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Commander...it was a long night. I just need some sleep." He grinned apologetically.

Mark's features softened. It made sense...Don had been on a surveillance mission, and hadn't had any sleep. He set his hand on Donald's shoulder, gently. Inwardly, Donald flinched, but outside he kept his cool.

"Okay. Let's get you back to Neptune, and I'll worry about the debriefing once you wake up."

"Sounds good."

Donald and Mark worked together, loading his bike onto the hover boat. Mark sat in the driver's chair, and looked back to Donald, who was de-activating the anchor beam.

"I'll drive...if you want, get some sleep now."

Donald nodded and sat on the back bench, behind his bike. Pulling a floppy 'Gilligan' hat out of his pocket, he put it on and pulled it over his eyes. He had been playing it cool; a lot cooler than he would have expected of himself. His heart thumped in his chest, pushing blood through his body with a vicious agenda. The scratches left on his back by Mala throbbed with each beat, but he smiled through the pain. Today would be a good day. The first of many.

When they got to Center Neptune, Donald feigned sleep until Mark shook him, gently.

"We're here, Don. Barring any emergencies, I'll see you in around eight hours, okay?"

Donald squinted, rubbing false sleep from his eyes, and headed for his room. He felt ill, thinking of Mark and his fake concern. G-1 was a goddamned hypocrite.

He locked the door behind him, and thought of Mala until at last, he slept.

 

Mark shook his head as he entered the ready room. Chief Anderson sat behind his desk, raising an eyebrow at G-1.

"He's sleeping. I'll talk to him later."

Jason laughed sharply. It sounded like a bark from a wounded dog.

"This is bullshit. You wouldn't take this crap from anyone else, so why-"

"Shut up, Jason. It's not like he was out screwing with some chick and just forgot to call in. Sound familiar to you?" Mark's eyes blazed.

Jason's face darkened. He sank back into the couch and adjusted his gaze to look out the large plasteel porthole, and the dark waters beyond. It did sound familiar.

"That's enough, from both of you." Anderson stood up, and came to the front of his desk. "Listen to me. The people I answer to are looking for results from the G-Force project. What am I supposed to tell them? 'Sorry, Mr. President, they just don't gel'?"

"What do you want me to say, Chief? The rest of us play the game...all of us except for Donald! He of the 'uncommon psych profile.'" Mark flopped down onto the couch next to Jason, and glared at the floor.

Anderson sighed and looked at the agents present, each in turn. Mark, Jason, Princess, and Tiny. He stroked his mustache once, in thought

"I'm open to suggestions."

Jason sat forward again, glad to have the forum finally be wide open.

"I don't think that guy has ever been straight with me, about anything. he says one thing to you, but you can see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something else."

Princess nodded.

"It's true, Chief. It's kinda creepy, really. Ask him how he is, he's always 'fine'. Ask him what he did today, and it's 'not much.' Ask him if he wants to go for something to eat, and it's 'I'm not hungry.' I expect this from a normal, everyday teenager, but not from a member of G-Force."

Tiny was sitting in a swivel chair, and spun around to face her.

"That's not really fair, Princess. Just because he doesn't like to do what you do, doesn't make him a bad person. I talk to Donald, and he's alright. He's shy around girls, so that explains how he is with you, and as far as Mark and Jason goes, well, I guess for someone so unsure of himself, you guys unsettle him."

The other three agents of the team looked guiltily away from Tiny, faces blushing. Anderson noted the response.

"Mark, is Tiny right about this?"

G-1 stood up and walked towards the porthole.

"It makes sense. How did I miss that?"

"You can't see everything. It's my fault more than anyone's. I used a veto to get Donald on the team."

Mark whirled and looked hard at Anderson.

"Why do you want him so badly?"

"He's capable of things I can only dream of. All of you are, in some ways. Donald's gift with chemistry is unlike anything I've seen. Those special projects I put him on aren't just make work, you know. He's working with our team of researchers to better the project."

"I thought he was just making up for lousy grades." Jason smirked, but his heart wasn't in it. He felt bad, too. Especially about the fights outside the Dojo, regarding the nunchaku. Why had it bugged him so much that Donald had been better than him? He knew the answer, deep down. He thought Donald was weak.

"He's got better grades than all of you. I don't say that to be mean, but it's a fact. His mother...she felt he was too smart for his own good. She may have been right. Donald's perceptions of his day to day world are darkened by self doubt, and a feeling that any actions he takes are futile attempts to stop the inevitable."

"The inevitable what?" Princess said, confused.

Anderson shook his head.

"That's just it. Not even Donald can say for sure. He seems to believe that he is at war with fate, and that he's on the losing side."

"Damn." Mark leaned against the porthole, framed by a school of luminous fish swimming by. "That's a hard weight to carry."

"You're right. I'd hoped that being a part of G-Force would give him the confidence that he needs to get rid of these feelings. I may have been wrong."

Silence draped the room, like a heavy mist. Anderson, sat on the edge of his desk, thinking about his choices. Why had he tried so hard for Donald? It was a hard thing to admit, but he saw more than a little of himself in the boy. And something else. Anderson's special project. He needed Donald's help to make it work.

"Listen, Chief...I'm going to talk to him when he wakes up. We can't do anything else until then. Why don't we take a break?"

The tension seemed to ease at the thought, and as Anderson nodded, the four G-Force members headed for the door with a wave.

Anderson went back to his desk, and unlocked the bottom drawer. He pulled out a datatape and slipped it into the computer on his desk. After a moment, the screen lit up with a display of a human embryo, bubbling away in a vat of chemicals. It wore a crown of wires, nodules, and blinking lights. This was his special project. One that had cost him so dearly.

He let his eyes run over the text below the images. He blinked away tears as it came to him again. The Spectran attack, at the interim HQ. Patty had wanted to be there with him...he finally let her come for a visit. She was a few months pregnant, but was hardly showing. He could remember talking to her tummy, feeling for a kick even though he knew it was too early. He grinned, remembering her laughter.

The attack had been sudden, with Patty in their quarters as he worked in the lab on the G-Force project. At that time, the plan was to use clones, or cyborgs for the team. The budget was too big, and the council wanted a cheaper way to get it done. Anderson had cut corners for so long...he had just wanted to get the project moving. The building had shuddered with the first missile impact, knocking Anderson to the floor. He ran up the stairs, flight after numberless flight, until he got to the door of their temporary apartment. Fire had broken out above, somewhere, and the sprinklers had come on.

Smoke filled the apartment, making it hard for him to see. He followed her calls, frantically stumbling through the rubble. He finally got to her, and recoiled when he saw what had happened. Blood soaked through her dress, and pooled around her midsection. A large metal i-beam lay across her belly. Patty screamed his name, over and over.

He somehow moved the beam, and picked his wife up. He carried her to the lower level labs, below the surface. How he had found the strength he had that day, he didn't know. She had lost a lot of blood, and was losing the baby. He knew, standing in the lab with his dying wife laying before him on a cot, that he couldn't save her. But he might be able to save his child.

Anderson made a decision then that would alter his life forever. She was still alive, but unconscious, when he cut into her. He whispered in her ear, over and over, that it would be okay, that the baby would be safe. His tears fell to the floor as he pulled the tiny, barely human looking fetus from her womb and inserted it into the cryonic chamber. All he could think about was saving the child. For Patty, who had wanted children so badly.

The fetus was locked in the cryonic chamber, which was equipped with a nuclear power source, independent and buried another four hundred feet under the lab. The baby was safe.

Anderson hurried back to his wife, but it was too late. His operation had quickened the blood loss.

She was dead, a tear streaking the soot on her left cheek.

Anderson de-activated the computer, letting the screen darken. Two years after her death, the council had instituted a new policy, and the G-Force project began taking in orphans. In time, once Donald's chemistry talents became known, Anderson had put him to work formulating fluids that could enhance, and speed the growth of a human embryo grown in a mechanical womb.

Now, because of Donald's help, Anderson would have his son, and his promise to Patty could be fulfilled.

Anderson stood, and went to the porthole. He gazed into the darkness and tried to forget.

 

Donald Wade woke up feeling better than he ever had. Even in his dreams, he had made love to Mala, doing things he had only read about. Doing things that he had never even knew could be done. His back was better, thanks to the enhanced healing afforded by the cerebonic implant. He pulled his shirt on, and left his room.

He made his way to the rec room, where he knew they'd be. he felt bile rising in his throat at the thought of being around them. They were so full of themselves, it made him sick.

The door opened with a swish of air, and he stepped in, smirking inside at their sudden silence. He smiled at them all, and waved. He just had to get through this and get back to Mala tonight. Then, he didn't have to worry about the crap anymore.

He sat on a nearby chair and looked at Mark.

"Much better, Commander. Thanks. I guess you'll want that debriefing now?"

Mark blinked, shocked to hear so many words come from Donald at one time. It had been awhile. Not to mention the fact that he spoke first.

"Uh...sure, Don. Let's go to the ready room, okay?"

"Lead on, buddy."

Mark stopped and looked back at Donald. Buddy?

Donald smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing...are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Never better."

Mark grinned.

"Glad to hear it. Come on."

The two men entered the room, Donald thinking about the lies he would tell.

 

Mala's penthouse was growing dark. The blond man sat alone and naked, waiting for the sign. He was nervous, being naked. Unmasked, he felt vulnerable, somehow. The anxiety grew with in him, as he felt the time draw closer. He activated the dimensional matrix with device that looked like a remote control for a television, and watched as the projection mechanism emerged from the floor.

The air above the projector shimmered, then seemed to tear as the Luminous Spirit pushed into the room, from some other dimension. It hovered in the air before the naked man, who had fallen to the floor in praise.

"Stand."

The naked man did so, averting his eyes from the Great Spirit.

"I serve only you, master."

"I have need of your flesh, Z'ltaar. It serves me most excellently. Far better than your mind has, on most occasions."

The tone of the Spirit's voice grated on Z'ltaar. It often reminded him of the chastisements he received from his mother as a boy, before he killed her. She had turned him to this road of servitude. He only hoped that when he got to Hell he would be able to kill her again.

"I am glad to serve in the methods which please you, my master."

The Spirit chuckled, an icy, hollow sound that haunted Z'ltaar in his sleep.

"You lie, but it does not matter. I do not need to ask for what I can take." The vaporous being shot forward and into Z'ltaar, surging through his flesh, and altering it on the molecular level. The man's body writhed on the floor in agony, as the transformation took hold. The light that had filled the room faded, and the dimensional matrix projector receded into the floor.

Mala rose from the floor, naked and beautiful, a cold glint in her eyes. She could feel the Spirit within her, sharing her mind and body. She was still Z'ltaar, on some level, but it was buried. Deep. The small part of Z'ltaar's mind that was aware of what was going on willing gave up control. He felt more powerful as a female. The taunts of the humans mispronouncing his name as Zoltar could be forgotten, now. He was not dogshit.

"I take what I choose." The voice was the Spirit's, fading out at the end to Mala's. The transformation was complete. She went to the window, naked, and waited.

 

Donald smiled broadly as he left the ready room, having snowed Mark completely. It had gone so well, that when he had asked to perform the surveillance duty again that night, Mark readily agreed. G-1 was willing to give Donald one more chance.

Donald went topside, and readied his bike in the hover boat. Tiny had come with him, to take him over to the mainland. Tiny was the one he would miss.

"Are you ready to go, Don?" Tiny revved the engine and waited. Don looked down, into the water. He could see Neptune's dark form under the surface, stretching into blackness. He looked out at the rocky, barren crescent that Neptune was anchored to, and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

He laughed as Tiny gunned it, slamming him back into the bench. He would miss his large friend, alright.

They docked wordlessly, Tiny lifting Don's bike out by himself without a grunt. Don got on the vehicle and looked at his large friend.

"Thanks, Tiny."

"Don't mention it, Donnie."

"I'll...I'll see you around, I guess."

Tiny frowned.

"What?"

"I mean, I'll see you later, right?" Donald grinned reassuringly.

Tiny grinned back.

"You bet. Be careful tonight."

Donald started his bike.

"I'm always careful." He thought about what he was on the verge of doing. There would be no coming back.

Before Tiny could say anything else, he kicked the bike into gear and blasted off in a puff of dust.

Tiny watched him leave, and when he couldn't see him anymore, he got back in the boat, and headed for Neptune.

 

Donald waited until darkness fell before transmuting into his bird style armor. He felt a confidence he had never experienced before surge through him as the costume took shape. He left the bike on the roof of a parking garage, and jumped into the cool, night air.

It didn't take him long to get to his usual perch, across from Mala's apartment. He quickly activated the night vision and saw that she was waiting for him, standing by the window...naked.

He felt a familiar stirring in his groin as he made the leap to her balcony. She smiled wickedly, and opened the patio doors. He entered, and held her as she wrapped her arms around him, stroking all the places that felt the best. She looked up at him.

"Are you going to stay with me, now?"

Donald looked down into her face, wanting to kiss her perfect lips. He leaned towards her to do just that, when she pulled away. Her eyes took on a hardened glint.

"I asked you a fucking question."

Donald blinked, unbelieving. He was stunned into silence.

"Answer me, worm...or are you just another weak, useless man?" She grinned, wickedly.

Donald stepped forward and grabbed her, throwing her to he floor. He had never felt such anger. How could she treat him like this, after all he'd given up? After all they'd done? He raised his hand to strike her, when she started to laugh. It was a cold, hollow sound that made him stop. There was a power in that laugh he could not match.

"I-I-I'll stay with you. I want you."

Mala continued to laugh as she stood in front of Donald.

"You are weak. But I have needs...you will meet them."

"Of course. Anything..."

"Take off your ridiculous bird outfit. Now." Mala sat on the bed and spread her legs as Donald complied with her wishes. He crossed his hand in front of his body and transmuted into his civilian clothes, then took them off.

He stood before her, naked and confused.

"A very impressive display Donald. You must tell me how it works, sometime. But for now...kneel before me. Pleasure me."

Donald did as he was told. For a long time to come.