PART ONE

 

Mark sat in the rec room, alone, engulfed in the large beanbag couch. The 60 inch vid screen sat some 10 feet in front of him. Still, the images had almost filled his field of view. And what a view...

"At least the theme song is catchy", he said, to the empty room. His thumb found the switch by memory, and he shut it off. The screen retracted into the floor as he stood up and stretched his legs. Movement outside the porthole caught his eye, and he strolled over to take a look. A school of fish swam by rapidly, busy in their existence.

He stared into the blue green shadows of the ocean, and felt it's coolness against the plasteel window. 'I risk my life every day...and what do I get? A cartoon called Battle of the Planets?' The thoughts swam through his head, much like the fish outside. 'The shows, the comics, the action figures. Anderson calls it a necessary evil. Good publicity. As if saving the world wasn't enough...'. Mark tossed the remote onto the couch and decided to check on the repairs to the Phoenix. Before he left the room, he looked again to where the vid screen had been. He took a deep breath, and muttered softly.

"If that damned annoying robot was real, I'd quit this gig." He grinned then, and left the room, the bulkhead sliding shut behind him with a whisper.

 

He could hear the banging, and Tiny's cursing long before arrived at the repair hangar. Mark respected the big guy, who often worked on the ship around the clock. No wonder he fell asleep so much during the actual missions. Mark heard the loudest crash yet, and as Tiny let out a stream of X-rated howls, he stopped outside the bulkhead and laughed. Composing himself, he entered the large hangar and walked towards the ship. No matter who he was, and what his job was, the ship still struck him as an awesome thing. The black, carbon streaks across the bow and left wing marred an otherwise perfect picture. A quick look at the vehicle told him that Jason, Princess and Keyop were all gone. At first, Mark couldn't see Tiny. He actually had to wait until the swearing started again to find him. He was in Princess's wing pod, accessing some internal senor panels. The fit was tight, but nobody knew the Phoenix quite like Tiny. Mark cleared his throat.

"Tiny...how's it going?" Mark looked up at the pod, wondering whether or not to climb the scaffolding to get on Tiny's level. The big man's voice came back to him, muffled by the duranite armor.

"Almost done, Mark. Hold on a sec...dammit, stubborn...". Tiny's voice trailed off into a string of mumbled cursing that Mark wasn't even sure Tiny knew he was saying. Whatever helped the guy fix the ship. Finally, Tiny's big butt wiggled out of the access tube normally used only by Princess once her cycle was docked. For a second, Mark was sure he'd have to call a grease team to lube him up, but with a heave, Tiny popped out and landed on the scaffold with a rattle.

"Why are you still here, Commander?" Tiny was rubbing the dirt off of his hands with an even dirtier rag.

"I don't know...worried about the ship, maybe. That last fight. What the hell was that thing supposed to be?" Mark couldn't help but laugh, now that the fight was over. The thing had seemed ridiculous as it encroached on Center City, but the damage it did was not. Tiny shrugged.

"Keyop says it was like a...a head lice on Spectra. I don't know if it's true or not. Knowing Keyop...probably true." Tiny, with an agility most people wouldn't expect for a large guy, came down the scaffolding like a big spider. Mark winced when Tiny couldn't see him. 'Why not? He has the same implant we all do. Too bad the cartoon plays the big man for a joke all the time. But, as Anderson says...stereotypes sell.' Mark moved a little to allow Tiny to complete his journey to the hangar floor.

"You got any plans, Mr.Harper?" Mark put his hands in his pockets. Tiny grinned.

"No...why?" Tiny dropped the rag. Somehow, he was clean.

"Let's get a beer."

"And sushi?" Tiny's eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I think you've earned it." The two laughed as the walked to the lift, which would take them to a hover boat topside.

 

 

It took about 15 minutes to get the 'boat to the mainland. The village was a small, fishing community that hadn't been fishing for the last 10 years. It was one giant disguise. Everyone that lived here worked in Neptune, the fishing boats they used were actually transports. The town had to keep up appearances though...and that included a well stocked bar.

The two walked in and waved to the men people they knew, which included the bartender, Norbert. The burly man was about 6'6", and had at least 150lbs on Tiny. He had two Kirin and a large platter of assorted sushi ready by the time they got to the bar. Mark and Tiny both took a long haul off of their beer, and began to pick at the sushi plate. The news was on, and footage of their latest battle was being played out. When it got to the part where The Phoenix had downed the giant Head Lice, the place erupted in cheers. The two G-Force agents looked at each other, a little red in the cheeks, but grinning too. There were a few cheers of 'Way to go, fellas', and things like that. More beer was given to them by joyful supporters. Mark and Tiny raised two new drinks in gratitude. Tiny spoke before Mark had a chance.

"We can't do it without you guys...so thanks." That statement almost brought the house down with cheering. Beer and other liquids rained down on the two chagrined agents. Tiny leaned over to Mark and hollered through the din.

"Sorry, Mark...I couldn't resist!" Tiny had known the reaction would be this way, but since it made the guys feel good, having to smell like beer for awhile was worth it. They downed a few more beers each and finished their food, and decided to go for a walk. There was a briefing in the morning, and Anderson hated hangovers. They left the smoky bar, again waving to the crowd and enduring one more cheer. The two agents weren't drunk, exactly, but not sober, either. With a thought, their cerebonic implants could trigger the release of enough endorphins into their systems to burn the alcohol away. Neither man did so, though.

Mark looked up at the moon, swollen and full. He was pleased to find that he could see almost as good as in the day. No need for the bird style visor with it's light intensification function tonight. The two young men walked through the nearly deserted streets of the town, still able to hear the raucous crowd at the bar they'd left behind. Tiny could feel that Mark wanted to talk about something, and even had a pretty good idea what about.

That morning, on the mission against the Spectran Lice Monster, Mark and Jason had gotten into it pretty good. Mark had been critical of Jason's judgment in targeting the Space Lice, and Jason reacted by questioning Mark's ability to lead the team, when it was obvious his target had indeed proved to be a good one.

"Can't you see I'm right?" Jason had yelled. "Maybe you're not G-1 material anymore, Commander!" Jason had stepped closer to Mark, with a somewhat threatening stance.

Mark had raised his fist to smack Jase one, but Princess had stepped between them and ended the incident. Tiny wasn't sure what the whole thing had been about, although Keyop had said that Mark had found Jason and Princess hugging in the ready room after the briefing that morning.

The Spectran Mechanoid had been destroyed, of course, with surprisingly little damage. Neptune's R&D team had come out with a retrieval unit and began picking the thing apart, as G-Force had made an internal inspection of the horrific machine. Spectran soldiers were taken prisoner or killed, depending on their willingness to surrender. Once the deployment of Federation troops arrived to further secure the area, the team flew back into the Phoenix, and headed for Center Neptune. Jason entered the access tube to his car, and began the process of disengagement. Tiny slowed the craft, and came in low enough to safely deposit Jason to the surface, against Mark's orders. But even Mark had known that Jason was too stubborn not to disengage too high, just to prove a point. Once Jason had left, the flight back to Center Neptune had been silent. When the Phoenix had finally touched down in the large repair hangar, Keyop and Princess also left silently, leaving Mark to his thoughts.

Back on the moonlit street, Tiny knew that these things were playing on Mark's conscience. Mark stopped walking, and looked at his friend. Tiny could see that there was so much that Mark wanted to say. Instead, Mark merely shook his head, and crammed his hands into his pockets. He wore a smile, but the sadness he felt creeped through. It was Mark's command school training. Never show weakness to a subordinate. They walked back towards the hover boat, speaking of the beauty of the evening, and the weather expected in the days to come.

When they got to the 'boat, Tiny got in and fired it up. He disengaged the anchor beam and looked back to make sure Mark was secure. He was still standing on the dock, looking down at his friend, the same sad smile on his face.

"Are you coming back?" said Tiny, straining to be heard above the whining of the hover boat's twin turbines. Mark shook his head, and ran his left hand through his hair, scratching his scalp.

"Tell Anderson...tell him I'll be around." Mark waited until Tiny nodded, then began to walk in the direction of the air field where he lived. Tiny watched him walk for a few moments, then sat in the pilot's chair. Gunning the turbines into the redline, he blasted his way out of the dock and skimmed the water's surface to Neptune in record time.

 

Mark followed his moon cast shadow along the dry, dusty road for an hour before he arrived at the small air strip that was as much his home as any. He crossed the runway and walked through the tall grass beside it, already collecting dew as the night air cooled. He stepped inside the cabin where he lived and went to the small cabinet above the fridge. Inside, was a bottle of whiskey that had been a gift the Christmas before, from Norbert down at the bar. He spun the cap off with one hand, and brought the bottle to his lips. The liquid cut the paste in his mouth and burned as it went down his throat. The buzz that he had almost walked off came back fast, and he drank again, intending to build on it.

Mark flopped down onto the bed, and looked up at the ceiling. The bed seemed to be spinning, and it was a good distraction...but not good enough. He kept thinking about this morning, which now seemed so long ago. Just after the briefing with Chief Anderson, he had been looking for Jason, to discuss some tactical options when he entered the ready room. A million different possibilities crossed through his mind at what he saw, but none of them fit. They stood there, in front of the floor to ceiling plasteel window, holding each other tenderly. Jason's wings had enfolded Princess protectively, she looking over her shoulder at Mark. The guilt she felt was not easily hidden from him, and he had simply nodded, and left the room.

Mark continued to drink from the bottle, no longer tasting it. He draped his forearm over his eyes to block out the images and the spinning ceiling, feeling nauseous. The weight of the transmutor bracelet on his wrist seemed immense...the responsibilities of wearing it, even more so. The excitement of the day and the alcohol gripped his being, exhaustion setting in.

"Maybe Jason is right...maybe I'm not G-1 material anymore...maybe I never was." Mark heard the words spill from his mouth, and as he drifted into sleep, they seemed to follow him into the darkness. "Maybe I never was."

 

Mark wasn't sure what woke him up first...the sound, or the smell of frying bacon. Strangely, even after the amount of alcohol he had drank the night before, his stomach rumbled hungrily. At the same time, though, he wondered...'Who the hell is cooking in my house?'

He got out of bed silently. As he rose from the mattress, he had to scramble to grab the empty bottle that had been lying on his chest. He thought of putting the thick, glass bottle down, but instead wielded it as a weapon. Mark padded to the entrance to the kitchen, and peered around the corner. Once he saw who it was, he grinned, not surprised in the least. Keyop was a sensitive individual who cared about other people's feelings. Sensing movement, the youngest agent of G-Force looked up and smiled at Mark.

"B.b.b breakfast is served!" Keyop motioned to the chair closest to Mark, and grabbed two plates to set the table. Already on the table was a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice (confirmed, Mark noted, by the large pile of squeezed oranges around, but not in, the garbage bin). Keyop swiftly set the table as Mark slumped into the chair, setting the empty bottle to one side. Having not burned the alcohol out of his system the night before, he now had to suffer a hangover. Luckily, his implant would also speed up the recovery process...but not fast enough, Mark thought wryly.

Keyop brought the sizzling frying pan over to Mark, and scooped eggs and bacon onto his plate. He dumped the frying pan into the sink and looked expectantly at Mark.

"Eat up, Commander. Most important meal of the day." Keyop chuckled as Mark rubbed his forehead with one hand, and grabbed a fork with the other.

"Thanks, Keyop...but you really didn't have to go to all this trouble." Keyop just smiled and shrugged, propping his chin on one hand and watching his friend eat. Mark was glad to have such a friend and was suddenly angered, thinking of the cartoon of his life. They Keyop character was played for laughs, and showed little of the compassion or care the clone was capable of. Keyop's stutter, caused by the fact that his mind operated so fast his mouth couldn't always keep up, was amplified on the show and used as some kind of comic relief. It truly wasn't fair, though the others all seemed to view the program as a slight inconvenience, and nothing more. Still, he thought the whole thing was ridiculous, and had many heated arguments with Anderson about it. Especially, he had been concerned about being portrayed as a 'fearless leader'.

As he shoveled the first mouthful of food into his mouth, he quickly forgot all of the old arguments. It tasted even better than it had smelled, and before he realized it, his plate was almost empty. He looked up to compliment the chef, but he wasn't there. Knocking back the orange juice, he got up and went outside. The sun was bright, the sky clear and blue, the color of the oceans on Meridia IV. Keyop was sitting on the single stair that separated the dirt yard with Mark's modest porch, his head in his hands, angled up to catch the sun's rays with his eyes closed. His smile was huge and innocent, and damned if he didn't look like some kind of angel.

"Thanks, kid", said Mark sitting down beside him. "I needed that." Mark ruffled the young man's hair as an older brother would. Keyop just shrugged again, and picked a couple of pebbles out of the dirt. "N.n.n. no sweat, Mark." Keyop pitched a pebble out into the dirt some distance from the porch. "You ready to g.g.g. go back to Neptune?"

Mark felt something grip him in the pit of his stomach, and it was more than the hangover. He took a deep breath, and tried on a smile. It came out as more of a grimace. Keyop's face betrayed his concern. "Feeling sick?" Keyop leapt to his feet, ready to help. Mark smiled then, a real, honest smile. He shook his head at Keyop.

"Just the beer from last night. No worries." The two sat in silence as the sun climbed the sky, and watched a flock of gulls land on the far side of the runway, where a small puddle had formed.

"S.s.stupid birds. Why go to a small puddle when ocean is so close?" Keyop looked to Mark, puzzled. Mark shrugged, and looked at the gulls fighting for some morsel one had discovered in the muddy broth.

"Maybe they're just happy to be eating anything at all."

They sat there for some time, enjoying the warmth of the sun, and each other's easy company. The moment was finally broken when their wristbands beeped simultaneously. Chief Anderson's strong voice followed.

"Stay where you are...the Phoenix is coming for you. You'll be briefed on board." The message ended as quickly as it had begun. Mark and Keyop looked at each other for a moment, then, out to the ocean. In the far distance, like some kind of mirage, they saw a small shadow break from the water's surface, and head towards them. They bounded to their feet, crossing their wristbands across their head and chests.

"Transmute!"

The bird style armor suits took the place of their street clothes instantaneously, through a process Anderson called 'plasmorphic isomolecular conversion'. The mechanics of the process were beyond all of the members of the team, though Keyop was learning more about it each day. Anderson had shrugged, saying 'You don't need to know how it works, to make it work.' It was the same process, though on a much larger scale, that the Phoenix used to go into Firebird mode.

"I make t.t.thirteen seconds to rendezvous, Commander."

"Let's go!"

The two began running away from the approaching shadow and leapt into the air, wings adjusting to allow maximum lift to get them above the approaching Phoenix. Like clockwork, Tiny maneuvered the ship under them as they began descending, the main entry hatch opening up. The two agents landed perfectly on the deck plate, and as the transparent plasteel bubble closed over their heads, Tiny altered course for high space.

Inside, Jason waited for them. He and Mark exchanged a glance that promised professional conduct. Mark noted that Jason's face seemed to carry a note of sadness or shock, and knew that something was terribly wrong. Keyop raced to the flight deck, leaving the two men alone.

"Jason, what is it?"

"Spectran forces landed on Galleran III six hours ago."

Mark felt as though is heart had crashed to the floor.

"Dammit. Let's get up top...I want to hear what Anderson has to say about it."

The two men sprinted through the corridor, their boots clicking faintly on the deck plates. In moments, they were on the bridge. Tiny already had them in space, and a quick glance at the navcomp indeed showed a course for Galleran III. Keyop and Princess sat at their stations, monitoring various functions.

"Chief Anderson's signal is coming in, Commander." said Princess, staring at her instruments intently, not wanting to make eye contact with Mark. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark saw Jason shoot Prin a sideways glance, but she didn't look at him, either. As Anderson's face came up on the viewer, he pushed away all of the troubles he had felt since the day before, and went to work. Anderson spoke immediately, his voice implying a level of urgency that made Mark uncomfortable.

"As you all know, Spectra invaded Galleran III some time ago. The capital city, Darzai, has been destroyed. The elected political body of the planet was destroyed with it. The planet is in chaos. Spectran ground forces have been deployed in every other major city, along with a number of Mechanoids to support them. The Galleran system is the only source of Gallarite, a substance the Federation has come to rely on in our planetary defense systems. If Spectra cannot be forced to leave the system, our efforts to resist them will be severely undermined."

The team exchanged a quick, worried glance amongst them-selves. Anderson continued.

"First, you'll be assisting the Federation blockade in smashing the Spectran supply line. Once you mine the area, continue to Galleran III. Mark, you and Princess must go undercover and go to the new capitol of Tirabon. You must infiltrate the Spectran 'reeducation center', and find a contact code-named 'Pintail'. She will tell you the rest. Good luck, team." Anderson's image faded, replaced by a picture of a woman. She looked young, but a quality in her penetrating gaze told something of her true age. She had long, red hair pulled back in a tight tail, and sharp, angular cheekbones. She would be easy to spot. Pintail's image then faded, as well, replaced by system displays.

Jason spoke first.

"Well, it looks like we all have our work cut out for us." As usual, Jason's tone of voice could have been taken in eight different ways. Mark chose to ignore it, save for the face value of the statement. Jason hovered a moment, gauging Mark's response, before sitting at his station.

"T.t.t.three hours to rendezvous with the Federation blockade", chimed Keyop, hoping to keep the mission front and center. He didn't like the uncomfortable feeling of tension that permeated the flight deck. There was a long moment of silence, before Tiny broke it.

"Hey...uh...Mark...maybe Jase and I should go check out the mine payload that Munitions installed?" He activated the auto pilot and stood up. Mark simply nodded, and Jason and Tiny disappeared down the lift tube, into the weapons hold. Mark went to a computer terminal and quickly configured it, accessing the mission specs.

He began by pulling up a map of Tirabon. The reeducation camp was in the center of the city, in what was once a huge public park, much like New York's Central Park. Spectran security teams had placed electrified fence around the park, and armed guards patrolled the perimeter. Gun towers were also placed around the camp, every 100 meters or so. Pintail had been able to transmit info on the Mechanoid stationed at Tirabon. Mark's fingers flitted across the panel, displaying the information. Keyop and Princess had come up behind him, unobtrusively, to take a look.

The image on the screen was immense, as usual. The video clip showed the giant Mech ripping down a building with massive, scythe-like fore claws. The machine seemed so alien, and yet so familiar at the same time.

"It's a praying mantis," said Princess, sighing as the beast was shown destroying a hospital.

Mark nodded.

"And it's thirty stories high. There are five more just like this one scattered in various cities on Galleran III. I don't know how we're gonna do this....one at a time, I guess." Mark turned to smile at his two distressed team mates, alleviating their fears a little. They both grinned and nodded back. Princess laid her hand on Mark's shoulder. Keyop quickly got the hint.

"Gonna go see what's g.g.goin' on," he squeaked, as he bolted from the room.

Mark stood and went to the equipment locker.

"We'd better get our gear together. I've been thinking about a plan. I figure we'll be dropping in from around 5,000 meters. Once we land, we've got to look like civilians, so we'll need some provisions and-" Princess interrupted, frustrated.

"Mark, stop. We have to talk."

"Yes...about the mission. Nothing else matters right now." He was stuffing some food rations into the bottom of the pack.

"How are we supposed to go on a mission together when we can't even talk?"

Mark sighed and tossed the pack onto the work bench.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Mark measured his breathing, trying to stay on top of dangerous emotions.

"What you saw yesterday...it's not how it looked." Prin's voice was soft, and soothing. Her deep brown eyes stared calmly into his.

"Well...how did it look?"

"I know what you think...and I wish you didn't. You know how I feel about you. But you also know, with our life...nothing can come of it."

Mark nodded. Anderson had laid down the law early on in the project. No one in the group should become romantically involved with another. Mark had asked Anderson why he had put a beautiful girl into the group, then. Anderson's answer was simple. 'Because she's the most qualified.'

Mark cleared his throat.

"So what did I see yesterday?"

"Jason asked me to talk with him...that he had something to tell me. When we got to the ready room, he told me he had feelings for me. I already knew it...I've seen the way he looks at me. So I told him that even if Anderson's orders weren't in place...my feelings for you were. And then we hugged. He's cool with things...he said he just needed to say it out loud."

Mark grinned, and sighed.

"We can't have each other...and we can't have anyone else."

"That sounds about right", Princess answered his smile with her own. "Are we ready to rock?", she said, gesturing to the pack on the bench.

"You bet. Now, like I said, it's gonna be a high altitude drop, so..."