Where Were You? -- Chapter 9: X6-405

Disclaimer: The TV show Dark Angel, all of the characters that appeared on it (Max, Zack, Alec, etc.), and everything else that has to do with the show belong to their respective owners, not to me. No money is being made off of this fic. I only own the original characters (Wayne/X5-369, etc.).

“I’m sorry that I have to use these measures, 405,” the nurse apologized to me as she sat me down in a chair in the infirmary and strapped my legs and arms to it, even my right arm, which was in a splint because of an overzealous soldier. He had wanted to get the point that only traitors couldn’t take pain across by twisting my right arm until it had nearly been dislocated at the elbow and had done some ligament damage to it. “My orders are to take these precautions because you’re still in Psychological Operations. If it makes you feel better, your arm is healing wonderfully and I checked your right ankle also and there’s no sign of that injury anymore, either.”

I really wasn’t sure if that did make me feel better or not. The only thing that I knew that I felt was relief that I was getting a brief rest from Psy Ops while I was treated for my injury and the nurse drew blood for some testing that needed to be done. “Thank you for your concern, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, 405,” she said. She tied the tourniquet on my left arm above the elbow and picked the syringe up off the tray and drew some blood. I didn’t even flinch. Even if I hadn’t had more blood samples taken than I could count, that sting was nothing compared to what I had been going through for the last…how long had I been in Psy Ops so far? I had no idea.

“Am I to remain here, ma’am?” I asked when I saw that the nurse had finished drawing blood.

“For the moment,” the nurse replied. “I need to bring this blood over to the technicians and see if they’re going to need me to draw more blood or if I need to take another kind of sample. I shouldn’t be too long.” She picked her tray back up and walked into another room. When she was out of sight, I sighed and blinked back tears. I missed my unit. I hope they were doing okay while I was gone. I hoped that 115 was doing a good job being in charge while I’m stuck being tortured. I wish that…

“Now this is some interesting information,” a voice said. I perked up and focused in on the direction that the voice was coming from. I didn't know what that person was referring to, but I could use a distraction.

“Who cares about the information?” another voice whined. “Information, information, information, do you know what? Colonel Donald Damn Lydecker can take all of this paperwork and information and cram it up his ass!” I almost giggled. Now that’s one phrase that I know I shouldn’t tell 773 about. I can only imagine how often he’d be using it! “I am sick of all this paperwork! Ever since those little bastards ran from here, I haven’t had a moment of free time.”

“We never had a moment of free time before those X5s escaped,” the first voice pointed out.

“No shit,” the second voice retorted. “But can you honestly remember when the last time we actually spent our lunch breaks eating in the staff cafeteria and not out of a brown paper bag behind these desks as we were working?”

“Before they left,” the first voice admitted.

“Exactly,” the second voice said. He sounded satisfied. “You do have a point. This is some interesting shit. We’ve got the stats that Lydecker gave us from that night, but what have we here? These are transcripts from X5-798’s sessions in Psychological Operations, right?”

“Yeah,” the first voice confirmed. “This is weird stuff, especially for the X5s.” He laughed. “Look at this right here. That unit actually gave each other names. They’re not completely human but they gave themselves names!” I glared in that direction. If I wasn’t strapped to this chair, I’d go over there and teach him a lesson. My bad arm wouldn’t slow me down that much.

“All twenty of them, even the ones who died before the escape attempt,” the second voice said. “599, escaped. He called himself Zack.” He snorted. “Give the kid a medal.”

“You’ve got to hand it to the guy for picking out a normal name,” the first voice commented. “A few of these names in here are weird. Second oldest, 656. Escaped. She went by the name ‘Tinga.’ What kind of a name is Tinga?”

“987. Shot and killed as he reached the perimeter fence and resisted capture. He was known as Kenny,” the second voice read. “205, escaped. He was known as Zane. 164, recaptured but injured during her recapture and died from her injuries two days later. She was known as Elle. 064, killed by friendly fire during a training exercise on October 28th, 2008. He was known as Dash. Nice irony, huh? 493, escaped. He was known as Ben. 552, escaped. He was known as Reese. 120, escaped. She was known as Rena. 369, escaped. He was known as Wayne. 831, shot and killed before she could reach the perimeter fence. She was known as Gale. 701, escaped. She was known as Syl. 537, also shot and killed as he reached the perimeter fence and resisted capture. He was known as Parker. 798, did not escape with her unit and chose to remain behind. Currently undergoing precautionary testing and reindoctrination in Psychological Operations. She was known as Jace. 734, escaped. She was known as Brin. 417, suffered a seizure the day before the escape. He was recovering from the seizure, but the decision was made by Colonel Lydecker to have him terminated so testing could be performed so that the cause of these seizures, which have shown up in several X5s and X6s, could be determined. He was known as Jack. 766, shot and killed by Colonel Lydecker himself when she refused to lower her weapon as she attempted to lead the unit out. She was known as Eva. 210, escaped. She was known as Jondy. 157, escaped. He was known as Krit. 452, escaped. She was known as Max.”

I blinked in astonishment. They had given themselves names? They had defied the rules and given themselves names? That took serious guts! I could feel my respect for them growing by the second.

“But wait, there’s more,” the first voice said. He laughed. “They called themselves brothers and sisters. They actually knew or knew what the concept of brothers and sisters actually were! They believed themselves to be human, or at least more than simply soldiers. They thought that they were individuals. How big of a load of crap is that? They’ve got barcodes on their backs of their necks just like any other thing! They’ve been engineered to be smart as hell. I’d like to think that they’d realize that on their own.”

No, they’re right. 599—Zack—and his family were right. I sat quietly and let everything sink in and fall into place. I was more than just the stupid number on the back of my neck. So was 115, 367, and my other unit mates—no, they were my brothers and sisters. Maybe they didn’t know exactly what it meant or they weren’t consciously aware of it, but they were more than just my unit. They’re my family. I’m not stupid. I know the difference between simply a unit and a family like mine and Zack’s. Unit 5 is just a unit. We’re not. And I—and everybody else—were more than just soldiers. We’re people. Maybe a little genetically different than everybody else, but we’re people all the same. And why are we stuck here in the first place? I’m only six years old! I’m really just a kid. I don’t think that normal kids this young are soldiers. I haven’t seen a guard my age around here.

I closed my eyes as I felt the anger surge in me. I couldn’t believe that Colonel Lydecker had killed a member of Zack’s family for no reason at all! They could have easily just drawn his blood or done an MRI of his head or any other test that didn’t involve killing him and performing an autopsy! How dare they?! If they did that to one of my brothers or sisters… I opened my eyes again, for the first time completely understanding how Zack must have felt. However furious I had been after that trainer had let 607 drown, this was much worse. Colonel Lydecker, the man that was supposed to be in charge of all of us, who was supposed to make us better, who was as close to a parental figure as any of us had, had essentially killed one of us transgenics in cold blood. Not just one, I reminded myself, but two of us. He’d also killed Eva. I’d had a bad feeling about Colonel Lydecker for as long as I could remember, and now it exploded.

“405?” the nurse said as she re-entered the room. “You don’t need any more blood drawn. The guards are on their way here to escort you back to Psychological Operations.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. I waited quietly until two guards came into the room. One of them pointed his rifle at me while the other undid the restraints and pulled me up by my good arm and pushed me forward and escorted me out of the infirmary and back to Psy Ops. I held my head high as I marched with them down the halls. I was more than just a soldier. I would no longer refer to Zack and his family by their designations if I could help it. One of these days, I would find a name for myself. I would not let Manticore break me down and turn me into a mindless soldier in Psy Ops. I took a deep breath as I went back into Psy Ops and was strapped back down into that damn chair. I would break out of here one day. That was a promise.

TBC