Alpha and Omega (I'm using the Gatchaman episode order as the BOTP episode order here -and this is set after episode 85) XXXXXXXXXX He knew the day. After all those meetings and intelligence briefings, there was no way in hell he was going to forget the exact date and time that the Federation, spearheaded by G-Force, would simultaneously attack here -Spectran Command Headquarters- and several other important military installations of the Spectran Empire. It would end the war, once and for all. But today was not that day. Not yet. Jason adjusted his mask on his face, matched his marching steps more closely to those of his fellow green-clad comrades, and continued down the corridor. A moment later, he and the rest of his unit were in the main room where their daily work assignments were listed on large screens. He squinted, wincing. The lights were too damn bright and harsh in here, especially this early in the morning. Not that he could really tell it was morning, this far underground, but his body somehow knew anyway. Spectran coffee was shit. It barely woke him up, and it gave him headaches. Then again, everything wanted to give him headaches these days -and messed up vision, nausea, dizziness, numbness in his hands. How many weeks had it been? He'd first noticed it that day he'd hit Donald Wade's mother with his car and it was even worse now. Too many weeks... "Unit Eight!" barked a blue-clad Commander, and Jason stood at attention with the rest of his group, "Shipping and receiving." Well, they could read that on the screen. Commanders just loved to give orders though. As assignments went, here at Command Headquarters, it was better than garbage duty but not nearly as interesting to him as wide range surveillance or systems maintenance. Thank god it wasn't garbage duty -he already felt like he was going to puke. Unit Eight, including Jason, saluted and moved off. He swayed and stumbled slightly, bumping into the soldier beside him and eliciting a "What's wrong with you?" hiss and an elbow to the ribs to shove him upright again. "A guy in Unit Five, he makes a mean homebrew," muttered Jason hastily. An amused snort in reply, and they all kept marching, his lie accepted. Jason tuned out everything around him, everything except the rhythm of the marching, and slowed his breathing. Focus... It wasn't really a conscious connection, him to his cerebonic implant. Normally he never sensed it was there at all until the instant he needed it to pull off some superhuman G-Force heroics, and then it just happened. But lately he'd been learning by necessity to seek and find it within himself and to tap into it just for the energy and sustenance to get through a day without going blind or collapsing, retching, onto the floor. "Some episodic stress and exhaustion." That's what the Federation doctors, and Chief Anderson, had said was wrong with him, and that he'd get over it. He definitely wasn't over it, but damned if he was going to complain -especially not after he'd been given this all-important assignment. He'd done everything he could to hide his symptoms. So much depended on him now. Breathe, in and out, feel his implant releasing power through him... Keep marching. Better now -vision clear, nausea and dizziness gone. At least for now. How much longer was he going to be able to drain his implant like this? Surely long enough to complete his assignment here? That was all really that mattered. He knew the day, and the time. All he had to do was figure out a way to cripple Spectran Command Headquarters exactly at the moment that G-Force would arrive here to storm the place and take Zoltar prisoner. Until then, he had no way to contact them. The stolen Spectran identity he'd been supplied with for this assignment had worked smoothly and enabled him to infiltrate the ranks of the common soldiers here at Command Headquarters, purportedly as "Pirzim Holflig," transferring in from a posting on one of the Empire's slave planets. And he had, committed to memory, access codes, usernames and passwords that would give him access to many of this underground base's systems. Federation Intelligence had pulled off a damned impressive feat getting that for him. But so far, he'd had no opportunity to try them out and look for ways to wreak sabotage on the appointed day and time. Though every day he was here, as his unit's assignments rotated, he was becoming increasingly familiar with how this whole Command Headquarters was organized and how it functioned. His moment would come, soon... He just needed to still be standing upright and able to function on that day, when Operation Omega began. Breathe. XXXXXXXXXX Mark walked into the cell, the door instantly sealing behind him. He was carrying a stack of two trays with one arm, having passed the guy who brought prisoners their dinners on his way in. "Take a tray for yourself too," the guy had offered, just like he always did. It was visiting hours for the week, though the occupant of this particular cell wasn't eligible to receive visitors. But the Commander of G-Force was always an exception to such rules. Donald Wade was lying on his narrow bunk, reading a book, but now he got up and sat down at the small table as Mark set down the trays. Mark pulled up the other chair, as Don lifted the metal cover off one of the trays, leaned forward and sniffed. "Tonight's menu features d-linalool and cuminaldehyde," said Don, "with traces of α- and β-pinenes, dipentene, p-cymene, α- and γ-terpinenes, n-decanal, geraniol and l-borneol." "Good to know," said Mark, "But hey, I just call it 'curry.'" Don smirked. "Whatever works for you, Commander. I realize that science is hard for some people." He picked up his plastic fork and started eating, taking big bites. The sardonic front that Don kept between himself and the rest of the world was just as barbed as it had ever been years ago. Mark began eating too, though with less enthusiasm. He hadn't had much of an appetite lately and wasn't much in the mood for spicy food. "Yeah, lucky for me I'm good at flying planes and beating up people." They continued to eat in silence, as they always did. He's a guy that I never could get close too, a real loner. That had been his opinion of Don -a former G-Force member and chemistry genius who had quit the team and defected to Spectra two years ago. "So, any word on when that probation I was promised is actually going to start?" Don had finished eating and was staring at Mark now Don's hair was neatly combed and he was freshly shaven. Mark pushed a chunk of his own hair back from his face. Don was scrutinizing him now, a mere three feet away, and no doubt drawing conclusions from the evidence before him, the stubble so visible against the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. "I was wondering when you were finally going to ask about that," said Mark, putting his fork down. "Well it is what I was told," said Don, his already sharp voice getting sharper, "It's been nearly three months." "That was before it became apparent that you aren't even the least bit...." Don sneered. "Oh, so if I just say 'I'm sorry,' then all is forgiven?" "If I thought you actually meant it, that would go a long way with me," said Mark, "And I do have some pull around here in such matters. Has it never occurred to you that you might have to earn your way out of here, earn some forgiveness?" Don flushed. "You were glad when I left," he snapped. "Don't deny it -you all wanted me gone! Hell, Jason probably threw a party that very night!" The Don was almost yelling -after all these weeks, some cracks showing in his facade at last? Mark waited a moment, just staring Don down. He still remembered the day Don quit G-Force. There'd been times Mark thought Jason might quit, but he'd never doubted for a moment that if that day came, Jason would tell him to his face. Vehemently. Don had just left. He'd heard about it after the fact, from Chief Anderson. "I was never glad you left -I just felt betrayed," said Mark, carefully no yelling, "We were a team, Don -and you were part of it, just as much as any of us were. And as I see it, you rejected us. I'm not the one here who needs to apologize." Don glared at him, but said nothing. Mark went over to the shelf on the wall and brought the chess set sitting there over to the table. Don was still sullen and glaring, but he moved their dinner trays to the floor to make room for it. "Your turn to be white, if I recall," said Mark. They set up the pieces and started playing. "How's your mother doing?" said Mark. Don cocked an eyebrow but decided to accept this overture for conversation. "According to her last email, she's doing well. Wants to know when I'll be out on probation." Mark said nothing, studying the chess pieces on the board.

"She also said it's been some weeks now since Jason last came around to see how she's doing. She wants to know if he's okay." Mark looked up and met Don's eyes, scrutinizing him again. "Jason is fine -just very busy," said Mark. "If he weren't fine," said Don, "It's not like you'd tell me the truth." Mark moved one of his knights. "Check." That got Don focused intently on the game again but only for a few minutes. "He sure looked off when I encountered him," said Don, "Like he was having trouble with his balance and vision." "He's fine," said Mark, studying the board and not looking at him. "Frankly," said Don, ignoring his implacable tone, "You're looking like crap too lately -worse every week." "I'm fine too," said Mark, moving his bishop. Don's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe him. No wonder, Mark didn't really believe it either. He was just tired, surely that was all it was. Carrying even more of a load on the team in Jason's absence had to be a big part of it. "How's your father doing?" said Don, countering with his rook. "Saw him not too long ago, in Lulo. He's fine," said Mark, hunkering over his pieces. He really wanted to win this game tonight. He needed to focus. He moved his other knight. "Yeah, sure, everyone is fine. This war's been going on for how many years, and you're all still just so very fine?" "The Federation will win this war soon, you just wait and see," said Mark, glancing up quickly at Don as he spoke. Don, for once, wasn't sneering, or smirking, or glaring. For an instant he almost looked... like he cared. "Every Friday, you're here. You could actually be out with Princess, yet you come and waste your time here." Don shook his head, "Why?" Mark didn't answer I don't know why I keep coming here. It ostensibly began as an attempt to try to soften up Don with some "good cop" tactics and maybe get some useful intel about Spectra out of him. But it seemed apparent weeks ago that Don was never going to crack. I want to believe he can be good again. That was it, Mark realized, as simplistic and stupid as that sounded. That was why he had dinner and played chess with an unrepentant traitor every Friday night in his cell. "Checkmate," said Don, moving his queen. Shit, Mark realized -it really was checkmate. Don smirked. XXXXXXXXXX Mark glanced around the room. Nearly every seat at this massive conference table was now filled with the leader of a member of the Intergalactic Federation of Peaceful Planets. He'd known some of them before this -Arcturus, Cretola, Alpha-3, Mir, Zarkadia, Exor, Odin, Zeebor- but many more he only recognized from the slew of top-secret intelligence and security briefings he'd been reading over the past several weeks. But Colonel Cronus was representing Riga today, in lieu of its leader, and he was seated right beside President Kane. A fitting honor, thought Mark, as it was his father who was the visionary and the primary spearheader of Operation Omega -the battle that would finally end the war with the Spectran Empire. Mark hadn't seen his father in person since Cronus had rescued him at Lulo, after he'd been hit by Spectra's anti-transmute ray. That had been more than six months ago. He hoped he'd get a chance to spend some time with him during this war conference. The logistics of getting all these leaders to Earth with total secrecy had been a security undertaking of epic proportions. Just screening everyone for weapons and potential bugging or recording devices before they entered this conference room at Center Neptune had taken hours. This would be the only face-to-face meeting they would all have together before the final battle-to-end-all-battles began. Mark got a seat at the table as the representative for G-Force, who would play the most critical role in the battle, and Chief Anderson was sitting beside him. The gravity of the situation cast a somber mood throughout all the gathered leaders. Only soft murmurs and rustlings of paper kept the room from being silent. With everyone now present, the doors of the conference room were sealed. President Kane, wasting no time, stood and began to speak. "I'm glad that we can all be here together today. The day that we launch Operation Omega is coming soon. This will be our last opportunity to discuss, face to face, all of its many details. As you all know, we have a highly skilled agent undercover now at Spectran Command Headquarters, a member of G-Force, no less." Jason. Mark wondered all the time how he was doing. So much depended on him; the stress had to be near unendurable. And he was completely cut off from contact with anyone in the Federation, as the risk of his cover being blown was too great to take any chances. "We have Colonel Cronus and his Red Rangers to thank for us being able to put this agent in place. Their success in obtaining the ID of a Spectran soldier about to be transferred to Command Headquarter, as well as usernames and passwords that will give him access to key systems there, is a truly heroic feat." Cronus acknowledged the praise with a modest nod, and from across the conference table, looked at Mark. "I'm sorry that it took so long, and that it kept me away for so many months." "Over time, as we have gained more knowledge of how Zoltar maintains and wields power throughout the Spectran Empire," continued President Kane, "It became increasingly apparent to our Rigan intelligence agents that Zoltar functions as a complete tyrant and uses extreme cruelty to instill fear in all who serve him. In his egomania and paranoia, he refuses to believe that any Spectran could have better ideas than him, but if they do, they are eliminated as a threat unless they submit utterly to his will. Spectra's culture and religion, which involves appeasing a sinister 'Great Spirit,' only reinforces its massively autocratic governing structure." President Kane paused and looked around the table. "An empire sustained through tyranny and fear is ultimately vulnerable; its foundations are poised to collapse. We are a true Federation of peaceful planets. United together, expending all our military resources as one, we are more powerful than the Spectran Empire, who has been menacing us for far too long. Colonel Cronus came to me and made a convincing case that if we combined together to attack all of Spectra's forces, with the element of surprise, at the exact moment that G-Force invaded Spectra's Command Headquarters and captured Zoltar, then the Spectran Empire would immediately descend into chaos and disunity, and they would no longer pose threat to the Federation. I agreed with his reasoning, as did, in time, all of you. Today, we will finalize our plans, down to the smallest details, and discuss all issues pertaining to secrecy of troop movements and attack strategies." He made it sound simple, thought Mark... Seize control of Spectra's Command Headquarters and capture Zoltar. But it wasn't. Without Jason managing to cripple or disable the security systems at Command Headquarters exactly at the prearranged time, there was no way they could infiltrate it. And they would have to be extremely fast. No one was a better escape artist than Zoltar. President Kane concluded his speech and all the planetary leaders began forming clusters to discuss various parts of the overall strategy that each planet's forces would execute... It went on for hours and hours. When Mark finally left the Conference Room, he felt exhausted but the first thing he saw was Princess, walking towards him. Never could he see her and not feel better. Nearing him, she raised a hand and lightly touched his face. "You look worn out," she said, "Let's get some dinner and you can tell me anything I need to know from the conference." She looked weary too, Mark realized -why was he only noticing this now? She was so very pale and dark circles about her eyes made them seem even larger in her face. He took her hands in his. As ever, she was his true source of faith and strength. He bent his forehead down to rest against hers. "Our dreams," he whispered, "Everything we've ever hoped for, it's all going to come true. Soon -soon this war will be over, and we can truly be together." "That's what keeps me going," said Princess. "Me too." XXXXXXXXXX "It's your move, remember?" said Don. Mark stopped rubbing his forehead and stared down at the chessboard. The black and white squares looked fuzzy instead of crisp. Squinting only made his headache feel worse. But then, it had been a long week, with a mission against some Spectran incursions on Tolak combined with grueling combat drills, over and over, to simulate different scenarios they might encounter when they infiltrated Spectran Command Headquarters. He moved his bishop, and began rubbing his temples. The headaches were getting more frequent, and intense. He was going to have to figure out way to- "Oh, come on!" said Don, "I'm actually going to let you take that back -it's a crap move and you'd see that if you were paying attention. What's wrong with you?"

Mark moved his hands from his face and stared down blearily. Good question -what was wrong? His head ached and now he could hardly focus his eyes -there was nothing but a jumble of black and white before him. He couldn't seem to focus. The squares of the chessboard seemed to be swirling... and now red, blotches of bright red... "Holy shit! Your nose is bleeding all over the place!" Everything seemed to be lost in a fog. Dimly he could sense Don pushing him back in his chair and shoving a napkin against his nose. "Look, I'm going to help you get up, okay? Come on, over to the bunk. Lie down." Somehow, he seemed to be complying, and Don was pulling him to his feet, guiding him to the bunk. "Just breathe, okay? Hell, you're as white as a ghost. Stay still. Relax." Don was still holding a napkin against his nose. Lying down seemed to help -Mark could actually see Don pretty clearly, staring down at him with eyes wide in alarm. He pulled away the soggy napkin, and shoved a new one in its place. "Here, you have to hold the napkin for a minute -I'm going to call for help." No! No one could know- "Don't!" said Mark, forcing himself to sit up, "Don't call anyone. I'm okay." "You damned well don't look it!" "It's nothing," insisted Mark, "Just a little nosebleed. Look-" He pulled away the napkin from his nose. It wasn't nearly as soaked as the previous one had been. "It's stopping already." "Well, stay lying down at least, don't try to get up yet," said Don, giving him a shove to the chest with his hand. "Don't you try to tell anyone about this, Don -don't you dare! No one can know." XXXXXXXXXX Systems maintenance, thought Jason, was his favorite duty shift. He'd been lucky that Unit Eight was finally assigned to it again today. Granted, most of what he and his ostensible comrades were doing was just changing the dust filters on the numerous massive computers throughout Command Headquarters or taking glass cleaner to all their monitors, but at least it meant he got to see the computers up close. On the day that Operation Omega began, if he could somehow knock them all out, that would surely make this place a sitting duck when the rest of G-Force arrived in the Phoenix to attack... Jason repressed a yawn. He wasn't feeling very good, though it wasn't so much a headache today -more like vague nausea. Dutifully, Jason sprayed monitors with the ammonia solution and wiped them clean. There were another three soldiers with him in this room, spraying compressed air to clean keyboards. Whatever the computers in this room were for, the two soldiers using them had gone off for a break when Jason and the rest of his maintenance crew arrived. They might not be back for a while -Jason had noticed that the security staff here at Command Headquarters, instead of being the most vigilant, were rather the most slack -apparently they didn't think they'd ever actually face a direct attack here. After all, they never had before. But that was going to change, soon... Everybody was done in this room, ready to move on. "I gotta..." said Jason, gesturing towards a bathroom door, "I'll catch up in a few minutes." "Tell me you didn't eat that bean stew they were serving last night," said one of his comrades. Jason shrugged. "It'll be more like twenty minutes," he muttered, "I heard that stuff was foul." But he and the rest of his comrades all left and Jason was alone at last. But no sooner were they gone, a wave of real nausea washed over Jason and he dashed into the bathroom, making it to a toilet just in time to vomit there instead of on the floor. He couldn't blame this on last night's bean stew -he actually hadn't eaten any of it. Retching ceased, he stood again and staggered over to a sink, clutching it to keep from falling over.. Pulling off his mask and gloves, he turned on the water and rinsed out his mouth and splashed some water on his face with his hands. Standing upright again, he saw his face in the mirror. He looked awful, with a deathly pale face, and sunken and shadowed, bloodshot eyes. He closed his eyes and took some slow, deep breaths... And he found it, his implant. Help me...please. A blessed wave of sustaining energy flowed through his body, better than any recreational drug he'd ever heard of. And it would be enough to keep him going for the rest of the day. But how many more times was he going to be able to do this? Until the past couple months, he'd never used his implant in this way and all his instincts told him that it was not designed for this -he was surely draining it faster than it could restore itself. He donned his mask and gloves again, and left the bathroom. As he'd expected, the security staff soldiers hadn't returned yet. For once, he had a chance to do some reconnaissance... He pried off some panels on a section of wall that was behind the computers -if anyone did show up, he'd try to diffuse suspicion by claiming he was investigating noises that could be vermin coming from behind them. It was hard to see, so he pulled out a flashlight that was part of his standard-issue soldier kit and shone it around the space behind the panels. Nearly all the data cables coming from the computers in this room were going up, but the power cables were going down -quite a ways down, from what Jason could tell. But if there was a level at Command Headquarters below the one he was on now, he'd certainly never been to it. So there was a level here at Command Headquarters, with restricted access, beneath all the other levels, that must house all the generators that powered this whole complex... Footsteps... People were coming. Hastily he stepped back and put the panels he'd removed back in place. Just as the two security staff personnel returned to their consoles, he was out the door and off to rejoin his comrades. But now Jason knew that he would have to find a way to access the lowest level of Command Headquarters -it was there that he might be able to plan a way to wreak some real damage, just at the right moment. Without that, Operation Omega would fail. XXXXXXXXXX "We need to practice our four-person whirlwind pyramid," said Mark, "There's always a chance we'll need it, and we aren't good enough at it yet." Around him, Princess, Tiny and Keyop all stood up dutifully from the training room mats where they'd been sitting and got ready. Mark was tired. He couldn't see his teammates' faces beneath their visors but the slight slump in their postures told him they were tired too. They'd been doing this for hours but they needed to keep training. Time was running out to prepare for Operation Omega. Tiny came over and stood beside him, and they each put an arm across the other's shoulders. As soon as they were ready, Princess leaped up and stood with a foot on each of their shoulders. Keyop took an even bigger leap and used his cape for extra lift, enabling him to stand on her shoulders. "Everyone ready?" called Mark, "Let's go!" They began spinning, faster and faster. It was working perfectly, unleashing powerful wind all around them... But it sure wasn't easy. He could hear Tiny groaning in effort, and Princess's feet were moving unsteadily on their shoulders And then pain stabbed through Mark's head and he lost his balance and stumbled... And they all came tumbling down to sprawl on the mats, gasping. Mark's head was still spinning, his vision a blur. He was afraid to try to stand up, afraid he'd puke if he did. And now the others could all see what a mess he truly was. Even Princess. Just like Jason had, he too was now succumbing to stress and exhaustion -except he couldn't fall apart! Not now -not with the outcome of the whole war at stake. Why was this happening now? Get up, he told himself. Get up. He took several deep breaths, keeping his eyes closed, and when he opened them again, he could see better and the danger of puking has passed. But he still didn't think he could stand up. He felt so weak... He looked at Princess. She was the one he needed to face first. He could never lie to her. If he was going to confess that he was falling apart just when the Federation -and his team- needed him most, he would start with her. But Princess wasn't looking at him. She too was still sprawled on the mats and breathing too heavily.

Tiny was sitting but not standing. He had pulled off his helmet and he too was pale, and his eyes looked dark-rimmed and sunken as he stared bleakly at Mark. Keyop was lying on his back, moaning quietly. The realization hit Mark like a blow, making him gasp. It wasn't just him. Something was wrong with all of them. Very wrong. XXXXXXXXXX Chief Anderson sealed and locked the doors to the medical ward that they all were in before he turned to speak to them, and even then he cast his eyes around the area one more time to satisfy himself that no other personnel were here. "In a time such as this, I appreciate your discretion," he told them, "In only telling me about your recent health symptoms. We cannot afford to have any panic or hesitation breaking out now -this has to remain secret." Mark, Princess, Tiny and Keyop all sat in a row along a bench beside a lab table, in their civvies. Chief Anderson was shaking his head now, looking at them all. "I don't know how I didn't see it before -but whatever this is, it must have been happening gradually, over weeks. Looking at you all now... None of you look well." "Broot, been wearing... helmets," said Keyop, "Didn't see our faces." "No," said Chief Anderson, "Or the pallor, the weight loss, the bruises, the lethargy... Your blood cell counts, your electrolytes... everything's off. And none of you told me!" Mark hung his head. It was Princess who spoke. "I didn't want to let... anyone down. -especially not now." Her voice faltered. "I, I thought it was just some extra stress, fatigue, and that I could tough it out." Mark nodded. "Me too," whispered Keyop. "Yeah," said Tiny glumly. "Tell us some good news here, Chief," said Mark, "What's the fix for this?" "'You said 'whatever this is,'" said Tiny. "Tell me that doesn't mean you don't know what's wrong with us?" "Took plenty... of, broot, blood samples," said Keyop, rubbing his arm. "Ought to know something." Chief Anderson took off his glasses and ran a finger over the bridge of his nose. "I wish I had more time," he whispered, "But so much planning is in place, there can't be delays-" "We're soldiers in a war, Chief," said Mark, "We get the whole 'sacrifice' thing." Princess was looking at him now, her eyes so beautiful... Yeah, he'd sacrificed so very much, for too long. Would he and Princess ever be together? "Just tell us what you do know, and what you can do in the time we have." "Many of your symptoms suggest an autoimmune disease, or cancer," said Chief Anderson, "But you all have nearly the same symptoms, though Mark's are most pronounced. Cancer and autoimmune diseases don't work like that." "And what about Jason?" asked Princess. "Even before he left he'd been having some problems -you said he was just stressed, overtired." Chief Anderson sighed. "I've thought about that too -it may well be that you all have the same problem, and that Jason was just the first of you to show obvious signs of it." And Jason was beyond help now, thought Mark, isolated on Spectra... "I've studied anew some blood samples that were taken from him then," continued the Chief, "and compared them with your own, looking for a common factor. What's affecting all of you, it isn't cellular. It goes deeper -it's genetic." "Genetic?" said Keyop, eyes wide, "Are we... doot... mutating?" "I can't call it mutating -that implies your genes are changing. This is more like them... unraveling." As one, they all flinched. "Even Keyop?" asked Princess. "Yeah, I was... broot-doot... grown... broot... in a lab from a... doot... single embyronic cell," said Keyop "How the hell can this be happening?" demanded Mark. Keyop had grabbed one of Princess' hands. Mark wanted to do the same. But he also wanted to smash something too. "Everything I know about genetics and pathology -it shouldn't be possible for this to happen to anybody -there's nothing in any medical literature to explain this. Yet it is happening. Somehow, you're all experiencing a cascading chemical reaction spreading throughout your cells' nuclei and wreaking damage as it goes. And I think Jason is affected too." "Are we all going to die?" asked Tiny, his voice flat. They all turned their faces to Chief Anderson, imploringly. Give us some hope, prayed Mark. Tell us there's something you can do. "Your implants," said Chief Anderson, "Without you even realizing, your implants have probably been helping you compensate for pain, weakness and fatigue -which is how you've been coping for the past several weeks. But your symptoms are worsening and now they're not helping you enough. But I can reset your implants to channel more compensatory energy and pain relief to you all." That sounded great. And easy. "What's the catch?" asked Mark, feeling a chill wash over him. Chief Anderson put his glasses back on and looked at them all in turn." "You'll be draining your implants faster than you can replenish them. It's only going to be a temporary solution." "But enough time to complete Operation Omega?" asked Princess. "Yes, I think so," said Chief Anderson, "And I will immediately begin trying to determine not just what is happening to you, but how and why -only then will a cure be possible." Chief Anderson's words now seemed to be coming from far away. Mark thought's were spinning... He had to complete Operation Omega -he couldn't let down the Federation, his father, Princess... Yet two words the Chief had said were echoing in his thoughts too. Chemical reaction. XXXXXXXXXX "Who? Wha?" said Don blearily, sitting up in his bunk as Mark entered his cell and turned on the light, quietly closing the door behind him. Don stared blankly at him for a moment before shaking off the stupor of sleep. "What are you doing here? What time is it?" muttered Don, staring at his clock. It was 1:00 am. Don squinted at him, eyes still adjusting to the light, "You're in birdstyle. Am I supposed to be intimidated or something?" "Here's the deal," said Mark, "There's a problem, and I think it might be a problem that only a true chemistry genius, like you, can solve." Don's eyes narrowed. "Such flattery. You must be desperate." "Just get up. Get dressed," said Mark, waving an arm at Don's small clothes dresser and turning his back to him. "What's in this for me? Why the hell should I help you?" demanded Don, but Mark could hear that he was out of bed now, and getting dressed. "Because now you're curious. And because I'm going to take you to a lab and lock you in there for the rest of the night. You like labs, right?" "Yeah," said Don, "We nerds are funny that way." Mark didn't need to see his face to know he was sneering. Now fully dressed, Don walked around Mark and stood facing him. "Look," said Mark, "If you solve this problem, your chances of getting out of here on probation will dramatically improve -trust me on that." Don thought for a moment, his eyes hard, but then he gestured to the door with an air of mock graciousness. "Lead the way, Commander." One perk of being a Commander of G-Force, Mark reflected, was that he could escort Don out of his cell and out of the prison ward in the middle of the night merely by informing the guard personnel that the prisoner was needed for lengthy questioning. The lab that he took Don to was highly secure, one that could be used for the most top-secret Federation research. And one that if he locked Don into, with suitable security programs protocols in place, there was no way Don would ever figure out the necessary codes and authorizations to be able to leave. Once inside the lab, Don stood with his arms folded and was trying to look unimpressed, but Mark could see that his gaze was sweeping longingly across the tables and walls, filled with some of the most high-tech scientific equipment available in the galaxy.

Mark opened a small medical incubator and pulled out five vials of blood. "These blood samples come from patients who are all suffering from an apparent 'cascading chemical reaction' that is damaging them genetically. If you can figure out why and how it's happening and how to stop it, you will have the gratitude of some very influential people within the Federation." "And what, may I ask," said Don, an edge to his voice, "Are these five patients' symptoms?" Mark didn't answer, and was glad that his visor was screening his face. "Do they include, perhaps, nosebleeds?" said Don. "Just see what you can figure out from these samples," said Mark, refusing to acknowledge the insinuation. "I'll be around in the morning to let you out of here." "Yes," said Don, "I'm sure you need your sleep." Mark actually was starting to feel some improvement from having his implant retuned by Chief Anderson, but had yet to fully shake the bone-deep weariness that had plagued him so much of late. And he was going to need to be in top form, and then some, for Operation Omega. They were scheduled to depart for Spectra in less than a day. How long would he, or Princess, or any of them last afterwards, when their implants were too drained to help them any more? Chief Anderson had, ominously, refrained from providing any details on that. Don was right -he was desperate. He had to be, to be giving Donald Wade, of all people, a chance to help them. Please, Don, he thought, figure this out for us. Save us. Don was already moving about the lab, assembling equipment and turning on various machines. "Seems ironic," remarked Don, as Mark walked away, heading for the door out of the lab, "Back when I was in G-Force, none of you gave a damn about my skill as a chemist..." When Mark returned six hours later, Don was gone from the lab. Gone without a trace -along with the blood samples. All the security protocols keeping Don locked inside the lab had, somehow, been overridden. All the time that he'd spent with Don... He really had been wasting his time with him, Mark realized -Don had actually been honest about that. XXXXXXXXXX He wasn't really sneaking out of his unit's barracks room in the middle of the night, thought Jason. There weren't any windows here at Command Headquarters and the difference between day and night was pretty meaningless. But, the rest of Unit Eight was currently asleep -that was what counted. The corridor outside was empty, at least for now. Earlier that day, during an exciting shift for his unit that involved pushing floor-waxing machines throughout some storage sections of the Headquarters' lower levels, he'd found a door. Most doors, by now, he had some idea of what was behind them, even if his Unit had no access or reason to go there. But this door, he had no idea where it led. But he was by himself now and if luck was with him he could try out the access codes Federation Intelligence had given him on that door, and see if he could get it to open. He felt tired and would have much preferred to get some sleep, but the day of Operation Omega was nearly here. He was going to have to lose some sleep and take some risks if he wanted to complete his mission here before it was too late. He passed some soldiers from other units on his way, but he was in uniform and walking briskly and purposefully. They just ignored him. He found the corridor with the door. Quickly he glanced all around. No one here, no sound of anyone coming. The first two codes he entered into the door panel did nothing, but the third one... There was a click, and the door slid open to reveal stairs, going down. He stepped through the door and then keyed the inside panel to shut it behind him. As quietly as he could, he went down the stairs. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, he gazed around and found himself in what amounted to a massive basement utility room. It was only dimly lit, but he could make out what looked like air filtration systems, water mains, hot water heating tanks, electrical circuit panels -it was all down here. He could hear voices, but they were distant. He could risk exploring at little... Then he found them, massive power generators -nuclear, from the look of it. And best of all, banks of computers that controlled them. Now this was where he might be able to cripple the entire Command Headquarters, the right moment, when G-Force arrived... The sound of footsteps, nearing -people were coming! He slipped away, and crouched in the shadows behind a large air duct. Two soldiers, carrying machine guns and flashlights, walked past -clearly some sort of guard patrol. He reemerged as soon as they were gone and went back to the computers that controlled the power generators. Please, let this work... The first user ID and password that he tried worked -he had access to the controls for the Headquarters' entire power generation system! "Yes," he whispered, "Oh, yes." A door slammed. Somebody was coming -just one person, and fast. Shit! He logged out as fast as he could and dashed back behind the air duct. Crouching down low, he peeked carefully around the side of the duct. The person, now striding into view... was no less than Zoltar himself. In his time here at Command Headquarters, Jason had only seen the Supreme Ruler of the Spectran Empire once and it had been from a distance. Now he was only about fifteen feet away. "Kulvik, where are you?" shouted Zoltar. He sounded angry. "Kulvik!" Crap, thought Jason, did I just cause a security breach? Was this whole level about to go into lockdown until the intruder was found? Hasty footsteps and a jerky beam light, and a Commander in a blue uniform, with a dark beard, emerged from the dimness. "Sire, how may I assist you!" he said. "You can begin by not waving that flashlight in my face!" snarled Zoltar. "My apologies!" said the Commander, bowing his head. "Have you seen Mala?" demanded Zoltar, "No one can tell me where that bitch sister of mine is right now?" "I am sorry, I have not," said Kulvik, "I do not often have many dealings with her-" "True," muttered Zoltar, "She knows you are loyal only to me." "Surely we are all loyal only to you," said Kulvik, bowing again. "Hah!" snapped Zoltar, "Mala has her own little faction -I am sure of it." "Mala could never challenge your rule," said Kulvik staunchly, "You have the blessing of the Great Spirit!" "You, and the rest of you who are most loyal and true to me -you must watch her very closely." "Yes, Sire!" said Kulvik. "Someone is trying to poison me!" said Zoltar, lowering his voice to a hiss. "I think she is behind it." Not waiting for a reply, Zoltar turned his back on Kulvik abruptly and stomped off towards the stairs, so quickly he stumbled and almost fell. After a moment, Kulvik walked away in the opposite direction. Jason emerged from hiding, shaking his head. Spectrans... He knew now, at least, that he had found a way to accomplish his part of Operation Omega. That would do a lot to reduce the anxiety he'd been feeling. It was time to get out of here now before someone else came along, and before anyone in Unit Eight noticed his absence from the barracks. Jason felt groggier than usual the next morning, from the sleep he'd lost to exploration. His unit was assigned to a shift in shipping and receiving. Cranes did the really heavy lifting but there were plenty of smaller crates and boxes of incoming supplies that the soldiers were expected to lift and move around themselves. Jason had finished loading a dolly up with food crates destined for the mess hall when a wave of nausea and lethargy washed over him. He paused and closed his eyes, leaning back against a wall. Relax, breathe... He was able to feel his implant within his mind, and drain it of energy until he felt he could function again.

He opened his eyes again. He was staring up at the cranes' arms conveying away the heaviest crates onto trucks. At first it was all a blur, but his vision began to improve. "Hey, Holflig -quit slacking!" shouted one of his comrades. Jason looked around and was startled to see Mala striding imperiously into the shipping and receiving bay, wearing pants and a blouse and a short, dark cloak with a high, white collar. She stopped about a dozen feet away from him. "You," she said, to a security soldier rushing up to her and bowing, "I understand there is a special shipment that has arrived for me today. Show me where it is." "I, uh," said the soldier, flapping his hands anxiously, "I do not know where it is -but we will locate it for you immediately!" Mala stood tapping one foot, but was calm, merely watching as everyone in his unit now scurried around trying to figure out which of the myriad of recently arrived boxes and crates in the area was the shipment for her. Jason stayed where he was, just out of her line of sight, readjusting the boxes on his dolly for better stability. He studied her surreptitiously. Anderson, Mark, Princess and Keyop had encountered her up close during that Spectran attack on the Solar Express train, but he hadn't been there at the time. She was tall, slim and pale, with long blond hair draped over one shoulder. Was she really trying to poison her brother, or had that just been the paranoid ranting of an insecure tyrant? He to admit, if she were, he'd consider it a mark in her favor... There was a sudden loud snapping noise from above. Jason's gaze flew upwards. The chain of one of the crane arms had broken. A huge crate was plummeting to the floor -exactly where Mala was standing. Jason leaped- He collided with Mala and seized hold of her at the same instant she was looking up to see a falling crate a mere few feet from her face -collided so hard they both went flying, several feet away from the point of impact where the crate landed with a deafening crash and splinters of wood flew in all directions, even as Jason twisted in the air such that he landed on the floor on his back, with Mala on top of him. Pain... The world glowed white and then went dark. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't see. His head was nothing but pain... "Are you badly hurt? Mala's voice. He could feel her breathe. "Soldier, say something -are you okay?" A blurry vision of Mala's face looming close over him, wide eyes ringed with shadows in a white face and golden hair flowing down on him, her hands on his shoulders. He still couldn't move though somehow he was still breathing. But he felt so very, very depleted. The instant he'd leaped towards Mala, he'd drained his implant... rather more than he could afford. "Stay still, try to relax," Mala was saying. Green soldiers were surrounding them now, dozens of red demon eyes staring down at him. Mala was trying to pull off his mask- "I'm okay!" gasped Jason, somehow finding the strength to push himself up on his elbows but he could get no further. "Please don't trouble yourself about me, my Lady!" Some commanders had arrived on the scene, blue mixing with the wall of green. She let go of his mask, and the commanders were offering assistance as she got to her feet. "Please, my Lady, let us escort you to a secure area, while this accident is investigated." Mala walked a few steps, then turned and looked back at him. She swayed slightly, but the commanders on either side of her steadied her. "What is your name, soldier?" "Ja- Pirzim. Pirzim Holflig." "Thank you, Pirzim." A last glimpse of her hair flowing with the motion of her cloak as she turned, then she was gone from his sight. It was several minutes before Jason was able to stand up again, but he only vomited a small amount. A commander immediately ordered someone else to clean it up, and that Soldier Holflig be conveyed back to barracks in one of the trucks and allowed to sleep for the remainder of his shift. XXXXXXXXXX There were perks to being the Federation's Head of Intergalactic Security, reflected Chief Anderson -like being able to borrow a state-of-the-art genetic sequencing machine from the Intergalactic Research Laboratory without having to explain why he needed it, and to commandeer Camp Parker for his own use. Secrecy was utterly imperative. The Federation had never before planned an operation on the scale of Operation Omega, and getting all of the Federation's member planets on board with it while also plotting out the incredibly complicated logistics for troop movements and supply acquisitions that would elude detection by Spectra, had been an ordeal that he could never hope to succeed at again. If word got out, in any way, that G-Force had been compromised... Confidence in the operation's leadership would be shaken and everything would start falling apart. He had to get away from Center Neptune, where there were too many scientists who would notice what he was doing and wonder why. Keyop had wondered aloud if he and his teammates were mutating. And as bizarre as it sounded, it was still something that Chief Anderson wasn't prepared to rule out as a factor in the mysterious illness inflicting genetic damage upon them. He'd isolated white blood cells from the blood samples that he'd taken most recently from all five of them. But before he ran those through the genetic sequencer, he first he needed to establish a baseline to compare them against. He'd also located blood samples taken from the team nearly two years ago -long before any indications of their genetic damage had manifested. He ran all the old samples through the machine first. It was a huge amount of data to crunch, but at least here at Camp Parker he could walk along cliffs overlooking the sea while he was waiting. That helped him stave off panic. At last the sequencer was finished with the first set of samples, and Chief Anderson called up the results on a monitor. The first sample analysis he read was for Keyop. The youngest member of G-Force had been created in a lab from a single embryo and his entire genetic code was no result of chance or nature -it had been put together by scientists. Keyop had been deemed only a mixed success, and any research that smacked of eugenics was highly controversial ethically. It had been fortunate for Keyop that Chief Anderson had learned of his existence at the same time he was seeking young recruits for the G-Force program. Almost no parents at all were willing to give him their children for use in a military program, and it was extremely difficult with orphans too. But Keyop had no parents at all. And sure enough, the genetic sequencer's report on the DNA of Keyop, in the older sample, read exactly as he'd expected: Extremely atypical genetic patterns, whole sequences completely rearranged and out of order compared to the norm, almost nothing that was redundant or recessive. Conclusion: "Artificially created human life form." No surprises there, thought Chief Anderson. He looked next at the genetic sequencer's report on Mark's DNA, and Jason's, and Princess' and Tiny's. With each report, his shock increased, and before he was done, he was both cold and sweating. How could this be? How? For Mark, Jason, Princess and Tiny, the genetic sequencer's conclusion was the same each time as it had been for Keyop. "Artificially created human life form." XXXXXXXXXX As soon as the submarine from Center Neptune had docked at the Federation underwater port, Don had remained calm and entered the elevator along with all the other personnel heading into the city. Many of them had been scientific staff, some still wearing white lab coats. Don had been wearing one too, and blended right in. No one had accosted him as he left the port building; he'd merely walked off into the city, pausing only to throw the lab coat into a trash can on a street corner. Free at last, he thought. I should go visit my mother. Except that's the first place they'll look for me. And, she's not really my mother. All the blood samples that Mark had given him -he'd tested them, and then tested them again when he couldn't believe what he'd found. They were all artificially created life. Not just Keyop. All of them.

Mark had refused to confirm his suspicion, but Don was sure the samples came from G-Force, and that the one with a date from two months ago on its label probably came from the currently absent Jason And then he'd tested his own blood... He was artificial too. He was a lab creation. Just like them... He still felt dazed, numb with shock. But he was a scientist, and he'd done science all night in a lab, and now he had knowledge. Anderson was right. Mark, Jason, Princess, Keyop and Tiny were indeed all suffering from the effects of a cascading chemical reaction that was spreading through their cells and damaging their DNA. And it was a chemical reaction like no other he'd ever encountered. The molecules produced, how they were functioning as catalysts to propel the reaction and to keep it spreading, it was utterly unique. And it was not happening to him, only to them. How long had he stood in that lab last night, eyes closed, interpolating what could have started a chemical reaction like the one he had discovered? He was a chemistry genius, wasn't he? He didn't need computer simulations to help him realize what was going on. He could close his eyes, and see in his mind all those complex molecules in patterns unique to their artificially-created DNA ... their shapes, the bonds that held them together, moving, combing, breaking apart. What could have first sparked this chemical reaction could only have been... he couldn't call it radiation. It was more akin to an extremely intense sound, but one that followed a very specific pattern of changing frequency and wavelength. A machine existed that could create this sound. Don had seen it himself once, many months ago now, in a lab on Spectra. Dr. Glock's anti-transmute ray machine. XXXXXXXXXX Colonel Cronus' face appeared on the screen in the briefing room. "Hello, Mark." "Hello Sir." "So formal," said Cronus, "And in birdstyle too. Well, it is almost time -are you all feeling ready?" They were all in birdstyle. Even with their implants retuned, they were all still looking pale, with bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles. He'd never been so grateful that birdstyle included helmets with visors that concealed their faces. They weren't well at all -they were just functioning on borrowed time. But his father was the last person that Mark wanted to disappoint. Princess, Keyop and Tiny greeted the Colonel too with nods, but Cronus was looking around the briefing room. "Where's Anderson? He's supposed to be here." "He got called away -something came up that he had to go deal with." He's off trying to find a cure for us... "Well," said Cronus, "All the necessary talking was done at the conference. Just remember -get into Command Headquarters, get Zoltar, retrieve Jason, and get out." "Understood." "You'll do fine, my son. Jason will have done his job, and I have nothing but confidence in you all," said Cronus, looking around now at his teammates. He gave a jaunty salute, and then he was gone. The biggest mission ever waged by the Federation, and he doesn't look like he's worried about a thing, thought Mark. If only I could have that kind of confidence. Underneath the table, and hand took his and gave a small squeeze. Princess. Her lips made a small smile. Mark wanted nothing more than to see her smile and feel her touch for the rest of his life... How long would that be? "Launch time is soon," said Mark, "We'd better get on board the Phoenix." Princess had let go of his hand when they left the briefing room, but now he took her hand in his as they walked down the corridors to the launch bay. He wasn't going to let go of her a second sooner than he had to... XXXXXXXXXX How could this be? Chief Anderson still couldn't get that question out of is mind. How could they all be artificially created? He'd temporarily abandoned his work with the genetic sequencer, turning instead to searching the Federation's database for old records from the early days of the G-Force program. It couldn't be a coincidence that the five children who had made it all the way through the G-Force program were all artificially created. But what could possibly be the connection that tied together all their origins? He found a file on the Alpha Foundation, an organization that had cared for children who were refugees from wars -all orphans, and many with no living family at all. "The Alpha Foundation," its slogan read, "New Beginnings, New Lives." Jason, Princess and Tiny had all been wards of the Alpha Foundation, he recalled, at one time, though Tiny had also been fostered out to an "Uncle Jack." But Colonel Cronus had brought Mark to him. And the group of scientists who created Keyop had, as far as he knew, shut down their lab and dispersed some years ago to focus on different projects. But the Federation database had some files on their lab. Chief Anderson studied images of the scientists... One of them looked vaguely familiar, but his name, "Dr. Walther," evoked nothing in his memory. But computers had far, far better memory. He copied the image, and ran it through a face recognition program that would compare it to every other image in the Federation Database. And a match was made. "Dr. Walther" was also Dr. Glock, a scientist last known to be working for Spectra. He hadn't had a beard when he was "Dr. Walther," and his hair had been a bit less grey, but it was clear now to Chief Anderson that they were the same person. Suddenly a voice spoke up from behind him "You and I need to take a trip to Riga." Anderson gasped, startled, and spun around in chair. Standing before him was Donald Wade. "What -what are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?" demanded Anderson, "How the hell did you get out of prison?" "Nice to see you too, Chief," said Don, "How I got out, that's a long story. I'll tell you a short story instead." Chief Anderson glanced hastily around the room. No weapons were ready at hand, even the nearest telephone was several feet away. Donald Wade's cerebonic implant had been deactivated when he quit G-Force, but even without it, Anderson knew he could still be dangerous in a fight. "I'm an artificially created life form too," said Don, gesturing at the genetic sequencer on the far side of the room, "Like with you, it's something I just found that out very recently." "What game do you think you're playing at, Wade?" said Anderson, clenching his hands to fists. "Relax!" said Don, "Look, I have no intention of hurting you -I want to solve the mystery here too. We need to work together." "What makes you think I'd want your help -or that you even could help?" Don eyed him speculatively. "Tell me, Chief," he asked, "Only six of us made the final cut for G-Force. The kids who washed out, how well did their implants work?" For a moment Anderson merely stared at Don blankly, thinking...

"The six of you -you were the only ones who were able to achieve a strong and stable interface with your cerebonic implants... Is that why-" "That's what I suspected," said Don, "And we were better at transmutation too?" "Yes, you were the only ones who could transmute at all." "If you're wondering," added Don, "I do recall my mother once telling me she had to visit a fertility clinic to get pregnant with me. It was affiliated with the Alpha Foundation." He gestured towards the documents on the organization that were still up on one of the monitors. "She'd said that if the fertility treatment hadn't worked, she and my father were going to adopt one of the orphans instead." "It would appear that your parents did adopt an orphan, in sense," said Anderson, "Though they didn't realize it." Don pulled a chair towards himself and sat down across from Anderson. "Sit down," said Don, "Seriously -we need to work together. You're the only way that I'm going to be able to go to Riga." "Why Riga?" said Chief Anderson, still standing tensed, "They're a staunch member of the Federation -you'll never get any amnesty there." "As scientists go, you're somewhat above average, Anderson, but we need to go to Riga because I know things -lot of things, actually- that you don't know." Chief Anderson didn't answer. "Dr. Glock is originally from Riga -did you know that? He and I spent lots of time together on Spectra. I think he regarded me as his little protégé; he gave me lots of advice about how to make my universal solvent as lethal as possible." "Like hell I'm going to listen to-" Chief Anderson started to lunge for the nearest door but Don was on his feet too fast, and got in his way. "Sit in the chair!" said Don, giving Anderson a shove that pushed him down back down into his chair. "Dr. Glock has a secret lab on Riga. He once told me where it is. We need to go there!" "I'm not going anywhere with a traitor like you, Wade -I don't trust you one damned bit!" Don didn't answer him right away, but he walked away from Anderson and stood with him back to him, staring out the large window that overlooked the sea. "Either you trust me, or G-Force dies." Chief Anderson was on his feet again, moving swiftly across the room towards Don "What did you do to-" "I didn't do anything to them!" said Don, turning now to face him "It was Dr. Glock's anti-transmute ray machine that started it -that's why they're all sick!" "What? That's insane..." But Chief Anderson stopped in his tracks. "They were all exposed to its rays, weren't they? Glock told me about what happened at Lulo -he was pissed that Zoltar had ruined his ray machine. Anderson stared at Don without speaking. "There wouldn't even have to be a direct hit from the ray to start the chemical reaction that's breaking down their cellular DNA," said Don, "Though that could sure accelerate it. Just proximity to the rays would have been enough." Anderson took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. At that instant, his phone rang. Don tensed, but didn't move or say anything when Anderson walked over to it and took the call. "Anderson here." Anderson's eyes narrowed as he listened... "I commend you and the rest of the staff at Center Neptune Detention for wanting to know when the Commander is planning to return the prisoner to you. But there's nothing to be concerned about. Yes, the questioning is taking a very long time." He hung up the phone and stared at Don. "Now I know how you got out of your cell -though still not how you got away from Center Neptune." Don shrugged. "If you're lying to me, I'll kill you. But you've got a deal -I can get you to Riga if you can get me into Glock's lab there." Don smirked for a moment but then his face was grim. "I'll get us in." XXXXXXXXXX The time had come. He'd skipped dinner in the mess hall, implying that more homebrew from Unit Five had left him feeling too queasy. Now's my chance, thought Jason. Time to return to the lower level and completely sabotage the power generators for this entire Command Headquarters -shut down everything! G-Force, the Phoenix, his teammates. They were surely close now; he would see them again very soon. He found the door again, and entered the code that had opened it before, holding his breath... The door unlocked. Yes... this is really going to work. And it would have worked. But when he opened the door, someone was standing just inside it -and before he could react he was jabbed with a taser set to full power. XXXXXXXXXX He was up against a wall, his arms manacled above his head. Jason knew that much even before he opened his eyes, that and that his entire body had never before ached in this much pain... But far worse than that, he had failed his mission. No physical pain could compare to the agony of realizing that he'd just failed his teammates and the entire Federation. His only chance to ensure the success of Operation Omega was gone. When G-Force arrived here, they would never be able to get inside now... He began to open his eyes, wincing in the glare of a harsh lamp pointed right at him. He was in a small room, with shelves of what looked like scientific equipment. His mask had been removed. There was someone on the other side of the lamp but he could hardly see them as anything more than a silhouette. He thought he'd been careful. He'd been so close to success. What mistake had he made to blow his cover? "Ah, so you are conscious again," said a voice. A male voice, and not one he recognized. "Why don't you just kill me now and get it over with?" said Jason, "I'll never tell you a damned thing no matter what you do to me." And the man started laughing. "I've already killed you, but it's a slow death." What the hell did that mean? Jason did his best to glare at him but the light was so harsh... "Who are you anyway?" demanded Jason, "Is skulking in the shadows all you know how to do?" And then the man turned the lamp away from Jason and stepped into clear view. He was old, with long grey hair and a beard, and wearing a pale blue lab coat. Not what Jason been expecting at all -who was he? The man smiled. "I have the advantage here in more ways than one -I know who you are. You're the second-in-command of G-Force, the one known as 'the Condor.'" Jason tried not to flinch, but those words were a blow. Everything was truly ruined for him now... "You were hoping to sabotage Command Headquarters, and take out Spectra's leadership in one fell swoop, weren't you? You see, I know that too." Frantically, Jason searched his memory. Had he ever seen this man before? How could he know all this? He yanked his arms futilely against the manacles. He doubted he'd be standing though, if they weren't holding him up.

"But do not despair utterly, Condor, for our purposes are aligned in one respect. I am going to kill Zoltar, and Mala. Indeed, they are dying right now. And it will unleash chaos throughout the Empire." "Who are you?" "You might at least recognize my name." He gave a mocking bow, "I am Dr. Glock." As Dr. Glock was bowing, something that sounded like an explosion blew the lock off the door behind him and it flew open. Dr. Glock spun around and Jason's brain abandoned all attempts to remember where he'd heard his name before. In the doorway stood Mala. She'd been pale before, but now she looked like a ghost. Her eyes were huge pools of shadow. Blue veins were sharply visible in her hands -hands that were brandishing a machine gun. "You need better doors, Glock," she snarled, "They don't even prevent eavesdropping." She raised the machine gun, even as Dr. Glock tried to dodge away, but instead of shooting him, she clubbed him over the head with it and he crumpled to the floor. "I'm not dead yet," she muttered, pausing to catch her breath. "But you're sick," said Jason softly. "Been having headaches, nausea, eyes too sensitive to light?" Mala took a couple steps closer to him, studying his face. "Hello again, Pirzim,' she said, "I caught a glimpse of Glock hauling a soldier into his lab. That's not so unusual around here, and soldiers all look the same... but I recognized you." "Listen to me," said Jason, speaking quickly, "Don't do anything hasty." "My rescuer from the other day turns out to be the Condor of G-Force," continued Mala, still staring at him intensely. "What am I to make of that?" "We're being played," said Jason, "Somehow -I don't know how- but somehow we're both being played by Dr. Glock here." Mala was looking at Dr. Glock, still lying on the floor, unmoving. Her lip curled in a sneer. "He said you were dying -you heard him- and that I am too. I've been sick for... a long time now. And... frankly, Mala-" He had her attention again. "-you're not looking too well." Mala didn't say anything, but she stooped down and began searching the pockets of Dr. Glock's lab coat and stood again with key in her hand. She approached him and paused again to look at his face, up close now. She was the same height as him. She'd be seeing what he saw in her face -bloodshot, sunken eyes and a deathly pallor- and it seemed to bring her to a decision. She reached up and unlocked the manacles pinning his arms up against the wall behind him... And he immediately felt his legs buckle -beyond his control to prevent- and he fell forward against her. She kept him from falling by wrapping her arms around him, still holding the machine gun in her left hand, and for a moment they stood there unmoving in a surreal sort of embrace. "I just need a moment, let me just breathe for a moment, and I'll be okay," gasped Jason, resting his chin on her shoulder and holding on to her. She was painfully thin, her shoulders bony. He found his cerebonic implant, felt some energy return to his body. Not a lot, but enough... He stepped back from her, took one more deep breath. "You've got the key -how about I haul Glock up against the wall and you manacle him?" "A good plan," she said, with a small smile. The enemy of my enemy is my friend... Jason couldn't remember where he'd heard that saying. Maybe, just maybe, it was true. Dr. Glock was soon manacled in Jason's stead, his head lolling to one side as he hung on the wall. "Where to now?" asked Jason, "Where can we find out what the hell is really going on?" And whether the Phoenix is in the vicinity. "We must pay a visit to my brother," said Mala, "Immediately." She looked worried. Jason wasn't sure what expression crossed his face but Mala promptly located his mask on the floor. "You will wear this, Pirzim, she said, "And I will do all the talking." "Only if I get to carry the machine gun." XXXXXXXXXX Mala had to be utterly imperious, barking orders and looking down her nose at everyone, to get them past all the officious toadies and flunkies loitering in the outer rooms of Zoltar's suite. Jason stuck close to her, posing as some sort of aide-de-camp or bodyguard, and no one questioned his presence. Further in, the ones they encountered were higher in rank -some blue commanders and some whose absurd uniforms could only mean they were mecha captains- and also a lot more anxious-looking. "Zoltar is not well!" said a blue commander that Jason recognized as Kulvik, "You must leave him alone and let him rest. I forbid you to enter his chamber!" Mala's nostrils flared as she lifted her chin in disdain. "I am his sister. You cannot deny me the right to speak with him." Kulvik looked like he very much disagreed with her on that point. He stood firm, blocking the door to what Jason could only assume was Zoltar's bedroom. "You are poison to him," said Kulvik, glaring at her, "He told me this himself." Mala drew close to Kulvik, leaning in to speak quietly, but her loyal bodyguard was close enough to hear her words too. "The only poison in this place is Dr. Glock," she said icily, "Not me." Kulvik looked startled by her words but before he respond, she continued, her tone turning more silky. "And who is Zoltar's heir? Who could the Great Spirit possibly anoint as the next ruler of Spectra, after my brother, but me? You really ought to give some thought to the future, Kulvik, and to your place in it." Kulvik stood down, and opened the door for Mala. As she strode in, Jason followed her and shut the door behind them. Zoltar's inner chamber was lavish, with elaborately carved and gold-trimmed furniture and heavy brocade wall tapestries. It was dimly lit with only the light of candles. Zoltar, supreme ruler of the Spectran Empire, was lying on his back in a large bed, his head propped up by pillows. Jason was prepared to admit that he himself was looking far from his best lately, and that Mala was visibly ill... But Zoltar wasn't wearing his purple mask anymore, and he looked ghastly. His face was horribly gaunt. The room was warm, but he was shivering. He had long, blond hair like Mala, but it looked as though chunks of it had been falling out, leaving bare patches on his scalp. Mala gasped and Zoltar opened his eyes -so red they had be nearly hemorrhaging. "Mala," he croaked, "Get out." "Kulvik thinks I've poisoned you -is that what you think too?" demanded Mala. "It is the truth!" said Zoltar, "Who else but you? I sought proof, for the Great Spirit, but could not find it..." "So you tried to have me crushed by a falling crate instead?" Zoltar smiled, "I understand I almost succeeded." Mala was silent for a moment. "You've never had faith in anyone, have you?" she said at last. "There is no one who can be trusted -how do you think I've held power in the Empire all these years? By trusting only in the knowledge that anyone who is not a complete fool acts only for their own benefit!" "You trusted Dr. Glock too much. He has betrayed you. He is the one who is killing you! I have taken him captive, and I will extract from him all the proof that you could wish for!" "Dr. Glock?" said Zoltar, looking incredulous. "I don't know what he did to us -I am sick too, can't you see that? But he admitted he is killing us, and I will find out how."

She sat on the edge of his bed. "Brother, now is the time that you must trust someone. Me, your sister! The Empire, the fate of our people, so much is at stake." "You are sentimental fool, Mala. Dr. Glock is helping the Empire. Even at this moment, a fleet of Spectran vessels is heading to Earth to attack the Federation Headquarters there and obliterate it." Jason barely managed to repress the yell that wanted to burst from his throat. An attack on Earth? "What?" said Mala, "What plan is this? Why has this been kept secret from me?" "Because I don't trust you," said Zoltar, smiling again. "It's a brilliant plan. Dr. Glock put an agent in place on Earth, months ago, who will completely cripple Earth's Early Warning System. They will have no idea the attack is coming until it is far, far too late for them to do anything to stop it. This agent was once a member of G-Force, you see -he knows everything about their systems." Zoltar started laughing. "I will leave this world happy in the knowledge that I have, at last, defeated the Federation!" Mala stood up, and cast a quick look at Jason. Jason hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound, though it might have been the greatest feat of self control he'd ever achieved. Zoltar was still laughing, maniacally, so hard he began gasping, then choking. Mala only stood and watched as her brother began spasming as if from a seizure. And then, abruptly, he stopped moving, stopped breathing. Zoltar was dead. And Jason's mind was reeling... God damn you, Don Wade. I always knew you were slime... Zoltar was dead... Federation Headquarters on Earth were about to be attacked by Spectra, even as the Federation was about to attack the Spectran Empire. All of Earth's military forces would be far away, taking part in the attack on the Spectran Empire. Earth would be utterly vulnerable. Mala was still standing by Zoltar's bed, staring down at him and seemingly lost in thought too. Think, Jason told himself. Spectra's leadership is dead or -he cast another look at Mala- very ill. I'm sick too. The Federation's leaders are about to be obliterated inside their own Headquarters. Federation and Spectran forces were about to clash all over the Spectran Empire. And somehow Dr. Glock knows about all of it... "Mala," said Jason. She looked over at him, but said nothing. "I thought Dr. Glock was playing us before, but it is so much more extreme than just us being sick." "What do you mean?" Jason took a deep breath to steady himself. Could he do this? Could he tell her -Mala Latroz? Maybe it was time for another leap -a massive leap of faith. "Even as Spectra attacks Earth, the Federation is going to attack the Spectran Empire. That's why I'm here -I'm the agent planted here by the Federation, same as the one Glock put on Earth." "Why are you telling me this, Condor?" Jason pulled off his mask. Mala's eyes were searching his face, but her face was inscrutable. "Now it's fair -no secrets between us. You need my help and I need yours." "We will work together," said Mala, "We will thwart Dr. Glock -he is the true enemy!" She was almost glowing. She looked fierce. It was contagious. Everything was going to hell, the galaxy about to implode, he was sick and probably dying... But he was grinning. He held out his hand to her, and she took it in hers and shook it. It was a deal then. "Does Zoltar have a private comm system in here?" He did. Mala quickly activated it, rapidly entering codes and passwords that granted him full access. Jason checked the time. G-Force, in the Phoenix, were supposed to arrive here in thirty minutes. They would expect to find Command Headquarters sabotaged and vulnerable, to be able to infiltrate and seize Zoltar... But there was somewhere else they needed to be -much more urgently! Jason sent out a message on a frequency that he knew Princess would detect. It was risky. Using Zoltar's comm station, he couldn't encrypt a messsage in any way that G-Force could quickly decode. He sent it anyway. ABORT MISSION IMMEDIATELY. RETURN. ZOLTAR DEAD. SPECTRAN ATTACK ON FEDERATION HEADQUARTERS IS IMMINENT. WATCH OUT FOR DONALD WADE. STILL A SPECTRAN AGENT. TRUST ME. G2. Mala sent out her own dispatches, posing as Zoltar, putting the Spectran Empire on high alert for incoming attacks. "Defensive tactics only," she ordered. "Put your mask back on," said Mala, "When we leave, I will tell Kulvik that Zoltar is sleeping now, very soundly, and to not let anyone disturb him. It will buy us some time..." XXXXXXXXXX "Where have you been all this time?" yelled Dr. Glock as three soldiers came into the room where he was still manacled to the wall. "Get me out of these?" he added, shaking his arms, "There is a spare key -it will be in the desk!" Quickly, Dr. Glock was freed. Flanked by the soldiers, Dr. Glock headed straight for a bay on the launching level, where a nondescript space freighter was awaiting them. As soon as they had lifted off from Command Headquarters, heading into space and away from Spectra, the soldiers pulled off their green uniforms. Beneath, they wore the uniforms of Rigan Red Rangers. XXXXXXXXXX They'd dropped out of warp, and planet Spectra was visible now on the viewscreen, in the midst of the haze of the Crab Nebula. Almost there, thought Mark. He hoped Jason was ready for them, that he'd knocked out the Command Headquarters defense systems. He hoped that Jason was okay. He'd been the first of them to get sick, and he'd been away for weeks now -Chief Anderson couldn't retune his cerebonic implant. Even with the help that his retuned implant was giving him -for as long as that could last- Mark knew he was not at his best. None of them were. All his instincts were telling him that this was a bad idea. If it had been any other mission, he'd have called it off. Too much was being risked, too much depended on G-Force. As things stood, with their health so compromised, they didn't merit the Federation's trust in them. Yet here they were, approaching Spectra. He should have spoken up, back when there was still a chance to change things. I have a very bad feeling about this... But now it was their duty to continue on. He hadn't wanted to disappoint his father, and he had been unable to resist the promise that Operation Omega would end the war once and for all. For then, he and Princess could truly be together... Maybe too many leaders in the Federation had been unable to resist a promise of peace, after so many years of war. But what could he do now? Only his duty. "Mark!" said Princess, "I've detected a message, beamed from Spectra but on a frequency only we use!"

They all clustered around her station to read it. ABORT MISSION IMMEDIATELY. RETURN. ZOLTAR DEAD. SPECTRAN ATTACK ON FEDERATION HEADQUARTERS IS IMMINENT. WATCH OUT FOR DONALD WADE. STILL A SPECTRAN AGENT. TRUST ME. G2. Donald Wade? Mark wanted to bash his head against the console. Don was on the loose and it was all his fault. Earth was defenseless -so many of its ships and soldiers were away, dispersed by Operation Omega. I knew I had a bad feeling about this mission. "I trust him!" said Mark, "Pull back, Tiny. We need to call Federation Headquarters and speak directly to President Kane -we need to warn him! Operation Omega has to be called off!" XXXXXXXXXX "Stop here, this is the right address," said Don. Chief Anderson pulled over and parked the van they'd rented at the Rigan spaceport.' "Are you sure?" It was an ordinary-looking warehouse. Nothing about it suggested "secret lab of an evil scientist," but then, that was probably the whole point. Don tried the door which, of course, was locked. "Hmm, did Dr. Glock, by any chance, tell you the passcode to get in?' "He told me a lot of passcodes," muttered Don. And indeed, the one he entered unlocked the door. The warehouse was mostly empty, aside from dust and a few light bulbs dangling from the ceiling. "If you've led me on nothing but a wild goose chase-" growled Chief Anderson. "It might be underground -more secure that way," said Don hastily, "Start looking for an elevator door." They found one a few minutes later, behind some old wooden doors leaning against a wall. "I should have brought my gun," said Anderson, "Dr. Glock could be down there right now." Don shook his head. "I don't think he'll be here -he prefers Spectra." The elevator only went down, and only had one stop. It took a long time to reach it -they were deep underground now. When the doors opened at last, Anderson stared in wide-eyed amazement. The space they were in was huge and circular -brightly lit, shiny metallic walls, and with a high ceiling, They had emerged from the elevator onto a sort of higher level that circled the vast space, like the upper level of a stadium. There was a wide, open space down below. Anderson began to walk towards the railing of the upper level and looked down into the huge room below. It was filled with row after row of boxes -large boxes, about the size of refrigerators, he realized. And there were so many rows of them... Three hundred? Four hundred? It was hard to tell. Someone was down there! Anderson ducked down, and peered between the slats of the railing. It was a man down there. He could only see the back of his head but he was certain it wasn't Dr. Glock. Each box seemed to have a control panel, and the man was doing something to several of the boxes. Doors slid open on seven of the boxes. In each box, there stood a person, completely motionless, all wearing red uniforms with a white symbol on them that Anderson realized was the Greek letter alpha. What the hell was going on here? Had Glock been involved in making more artificial life forms? And then he looked more closely at the faces of the motionless people. No! They all had short hair, but those faces he knew so very well... Mark, Jason, Princess, Keyop, and Tiny. And also Don. The seventh person was a tall blond woman. Was that Mala? Anderson turned around quickly. Where was Don? They needed to- Donald Wade was standing right in front of him now, holding Anderson's own gun that he thought he'd left in the van, pointing it straight at him. "You can't want to leave already," said Don, "We only just got here." He smirked. "You treacherous little-" snarled Anderson, but a voice called up to them from below. "Who's there?" "We'll be right down!" shouted Don. Anderson found himself being marched at gunpoint over to a lift tube that conveyed both him and Don, still training the gun on him, down to the lower level. The man who had called out to them -the same man who had been opening boxes containing duplicates of G-Force and Mala- was walking towards them now. It was his old, beloved friend from Riga. Colonel Cronus. It would have been hard to say who was more surprised to see who. Anderson was so stunned he could only stare, but Cronus scowled at Don. "You're supposed to be on Earth -and why did you have to bring him here?" he demanded. "Relax," said Don, "I have it all in hand. Earth's Early Warning System will fail at just the right time. The Spectrans will find Federation Central Command completely vulnerable. But I didn't want to stick around to see. Things get pretty messy when Spectrans are involved -you know that." "And him?" Cronus gestured at Anderson. "I wasn't taking any chances -I'm a prisoner on the lam, after all. I thought I might need a high-level hostage as a bargaining chip." Anderson gave Don a look of utter disgust, then stared at Colonel Cronus. "Welcome to the headquarters of the Alpha Foundation," said Cronus, but he looked away first. "I knew Wade had treachery in him, but you... You're my friend? How can you betray me, or the Federation, like this? How can you betray Mark like this?" He gestured towards the clones in the boxes. "And what are you doing here? What madness is this?" "He knows that G-Force, and I, are all artificial life forms," said Don, "He figured it out just very recently. As did I." "Operation Omega," said Cronus, "It is really just part of the master plan of the Alpha Foundation. Even as Jason takes out Spectran Command Headquarters and it is attacked by G-Force, Spectra takes out Federation Headquarters in a secret attack made possible by Don's sabotage. In the chaos that ensues throughout the galaxy, our clone army -all implanted and as powerful as any member of G-Force, will ensure that Dr. Glock and I seize power in the vacuum that ensues. Anderson looked all around him. Hundreds of boxes... "They're all in stasis," said Cronus, "I was just beginning the process of reviving them when you two arrived." "All those years ago," said Anderson, "The orphans brought to me for the G-Force program, and Don, and the single cell that became Keyop... Did it all originate here?" "Yes," said Cronus. "We do quite good work, don't you think?" "And Mark originated here too?" Cronus nodded. "He thinks you're his father!" yelled Anderson "Do you realize how much he looks up to you? And you've told him nothing but lies!" "Enough about Mark," said Cronus, his jaw tightening, "Dr. Glock was able to create eight embryos of genetically superior composition, that were stable enough to be cloned over and over again. We wanted them to go out into the world, so we could observe them, long-term. So, a Spectran Queen with fertility issues was treated by Dr. Glock and she was overjoyed to become pregnant at last with twins. We gave six of our lines to your G-Force program. Without us, you would never have had a G-Force -only our creations can successfully interface with cerebonic implants, or perform the transmutation process."

"How many Zoltars have you cloned? How many copies of that monster are you going to-" "Actually," said Cronus, "You might be glad to hear we decided not to replicate that particular line -a little too mentally unstable, that one. It's a fine line between a strong leader and a sociopathic despot." "You did better with Mark," said Anderson. Cronus flinched. "And it sounds like you have to thank me for the cerebonic implant technology that I developed," he continued. "You may have developed it, but we made it actually work," said Cronus. Cronus looked at Don. He'd been very silent, just keeping the gun pointed at Anderson. "I'm sorry," he said, "That we never told you the truth about your origins while you were on Spectra. Glock thought it safer for you not to know. Of course the offer we made you still stands -enduring all those weeks in prison for us is going to make you a very wealthy man." "Thanks for the access codes that let me escape," said Don, "But prison wasn't all bad -I learned something interesting things there." He waved an arm towards the clones. "Finding out that I was genetically constructed in a lab was a shock. This army... I guess it's actually not as much of a surprise." "You're a genius scientist, just like Dr. Glock," said Cronus, "When you defected to Spectra, he was thrilled. And him arranging for you to be 'captured' during your ooze bomb mission was a brilliant way to plant you at the heart of the Federation." "Yeah, I'm brilliant," said Don, "But there's this one thing I don't understand. You've explained everything now, except it." Suddenly, Don was pointing the gun at Cronus, not Chief Anderson. "Why are you killing G-Force?" "What do you mean?" demanded Cronus, "Stop pointing that gun at me!" "No," said Don, "I think I've got it right for once. Anderson, tie him up!" Anderson stood amazed. Don was on his side after all? "If you move, I'll shoot -don't doubt me, Cronus," said Don. Chief Anderson was pulling off his tie when a voice rang out from the upper level. "'We will decide, I think, who gets to move!" Anderson, Don and Cronus all looked up to see Dr. Glock staring down at them. With him were three Rigan Red Rangers, all with machine guns now pointed at Anderson and Don. Anderson looked sadly at Don. They were hopelessly outgunned now. "You play a very crooked game, Donald Wade," he said softly, "But I'm glad you found your way back to the right side in the end, even if it's not the winning side." A minute later, the Red Rangers and Glock were all surrounding them. Two kept their machine guns pointed at Anderson, one kept his on Don. "Damn, I'm glad you're here," said Cronus, beaming at Glock, "Now I can get back to my work -bringing the entire clone army out of their stasis boxes and reviving them." "Why were you threatening Cronus," asked Dr. Glock, frowning at Don. "Yes," said Cronus, "Talk some sense into your little protégé. He was ranting about how we're killing G-Force, or some such thing. He doesn't know we agreed that Mark would not be harmed -or his teammates. They're his friends -well, more than just friends in the case of Princess." "Perhaps it is time that I tell you," said Dr. Glock, "I have changed our agreement." "It's your anti-transmute ray machine," said Don, glaring at him, "That's what started the chemical reaction that's destroying all the genetic material in their cells, isn't it?" "What is this?" demanded Cronus, "What the hell of you done, Glock -I never agreed to anything like that!" "I designed a fail-safe right into the very genetic code patterns of our clones, lest the day come when it might be necessary to destroy them all. I didn't build an anti-transmute ray machine so that Zoltar could reverse G-Force's transmutation, I did it to destroy G-Force and to be sure that it would function as the fail-safe I'd intended." Cronus was flushed with anger. "Oh, don't feel so bad," added Glock, "I made sure Zoltar and even Mala were exposed to the rays too. Last I saw Zoltar, he was nearing death. Mala is looking far from well herself, and Jason is worse." "Mark is dying?" yelled Cronus, "You're destroying my son, cell by cell?" "He is not your son. Don't be a fool. I had to make a judgment call. Zoltar, Mala and Jason are all dying now, and Jason failed in his plan to cripple Command Headquarters. It's no longer necessary for G-Force to attack the place and take out Zoltar. This way, with them all dying, we are far more assured of success in our master plan, both against Spectra and the Federation. Think big, Cronus -don't go off track now, fretting about a few clones..." "Actually," said Don, "You should realize by now that I never did a thing to sabotage Earth's Early Warning System." Dr. Glock gaped at him, too appalled to speak for a moment. "What?" shouted Glock, "Everything that I have done for you, and you betray me?" "I used the access codes that Cronus got for me, same as Jason surely used the ones you arranged for him to get -but all I did was escape from Center Neptune. When your Spectran force nears Earth, they're going to find that people are expecting them and are prepared!" "Enough!" roared Glock, "You and Anderson are going to die right here and now." He gestured to the Red Rangers, who moved in closer... Anderson looked at Don, as if seeing him for the first time. "I consider you a true member of G-Force, Don." "Wait just a minute," Cronus was yelling at Dr. Glock, "Fine, shoot them, but what are we going to do about Earth now? If the Early Warning System didn't go down, then the Federation still has too much power. We can't deploy the clone army yet!" "Yes, we can," argued Glock, "We will take the army first to Spectra instead of Earth -we will use Spectra as our base to take power in the galaxy." "I don't agree to that! You keep changing the plan, reneging on all our deals! I-" A hail of bullets ripped into Cronus as all three of the Rangers opened fire on him. He dropped to the floor, dead. Anderson gasped. "Thank you," said Glock, nodding to the Rangers, "Unfortunate but necessary. Now these two-" He pointed to Don and Anderson, "They are next. Take care that no bullets hit any of the stasis boxes. Anderson saw the three Rangers turning toward him and Don. He found himself looking at the clones, still in stasis, whose boxes were open. He was glad that he could at least see the faces he so loved one last time, here at the end... In that instant, feather darts flew down from the upper level and pierced all three of the Rangers. Even as they succumbed to the poison they contained and collapsed, Anderson and Don looked up to see Mala and Jason. Mala was holding a machine gun and she had it trained on Glock. "We figured that you'd have an escape plan, Glock," said Jason, now in his Condor birdstyle. "We followed you and the Rangers and stowed away on board your freighter ship before you left Command Headquarters." "And then we followed you here to this base," said Mala. "You're not thinking clearly," Glock told her, "I can make you the most powerful ruler of Spectra that ever lived! Ally with me!" "I'm dying, remember!" snarled Mala, brandishing the machine gun, "Why should I care what you can do for me!" "Wait," cried Glock, "I can cure you! I can reverse the wave polarity in my anti-transmute ray machine, and change the frequency fluctuation pattern -it will halt the chemical reaction that is killing you -you will recover!" Mala shot him anyway. XXXXXXXXXX

Epilogue. "How many of these... doot... treatments... broot... do we need?" asked Keyop. "I'm sorry," said Don, "I know it doesn't feel very good, but I think it has to be more than one in order to be sure it stops the reaction inside your cells completely." "Be tough!" called Tiny from the far side of the room, where glass doors opened onto the veranda. Camp Parker always had beautiful views of the sea and today was a perfect day to sit in the sun and enjoy them. Keyop sat back down on a stool in front of an anti-transmute ray machine and tried to look stoic as Don sprayed him with its rays again. "I'm... the toughest," he said, "I... broot... let all you get... cured first, waited... doot... till last." "Recuperation is the hard work," said Tiny, "All that lounging around, the sleeping -it's grueling." The second treatment soon complete, Keyop and Don walked out on to the veranda. Keyop promptly found a lounge chair to sprawl in, beside the one Tiny was using, but Don remained standing. Mark and Princess were sharing a lounge chair together. Jason and Mala were sitting at a table. Chief Anderson emerged from the house carrying a large tray filled with glasses. "Drinks for everyone!" he called and began distributing them. Mala sniffed hers. "Can we put vodka in it?" she asked, "I had that once, here on Earth. It was good." "Uh, not recommended, " said Don, "You're trying to rebuild your cells, not damage more of them." "When we're feeling better," Jason told her, "I'll take you out for a night on the town -drinks and dancing- before you return to Spectra. It's an Earth custom." "I won't need to bring Glock's machine back with me," she told Don, "You can keep it -you are, after all, the one who modified it to cure us all." "I want to make a toast," said Chief Anderson. That got him everyone's attention. He looked around him, remembering when they were all very young little G-Force recruits. There's been times he'd brought to Camp Parker and they sat on this very veranda. They had all changed so much, and in many ways stayed the same. Alpha and Omega, he thought. Some things end, but there are always new beginnings. They were looking a little less pale already, and the dark circles around their eyes seemed less severe. Full energy and strength would take longer to return, but they would no longer be in any danger of dying because of Dr. Glock. "The past months have been the hardest we've ever endured. Terrible things have happened and we've had to cope with learning that many things we'd held to be true about ourselves, or people we cared about deeply, were lies." He looked at Mark, who nodded sadly. "But new lives are before you all now. With a wise new ruler for Spectra-" He nodded to Mala. "-the ceasefire in place now will lead to a lasting treaty between Spectra and the Federation. And a Peace Army of clones will be deployed through out the galaxy to ensure it lasts -a peace army trained and led by the original members of G-Force." He paused. "All six of them." It took a moment for that significance to sink in. "Cheers!" they all shouted before downing gulps of their drinks. But now Don stood up, looking dazed. "I want you all know how honored I am," he managed to say, for once, at a loss for words. "I don't deserve this..." "Yes, you do," said Mark, "You earned it." Mark stood up. "When you were in prison," said Mark, "You could have escaped any time you wanted to -but you stayed. When did you decide that you were no longer going to carry out your mission to sabotage the Early Warning System?" "I'm not sure," said Don, "But when you took me the lab, and asked for my help, when I realized you were dying, I knew then that I couldn't betray you. Not again." "That was a leap of faith," said Mark, "I'm glad to know that I was never wasting my time." XXXXXXXXX The End.

Wow, talk about a conspiracy! Even Anderson didn't know! I'm certainly not a fan of Cronus (and I'm glad he 'got his' in this fic) but I'm actually pleased to see that he did have some concern for Mark. That's more than you generally see in canon (either in BOTP or Gatch). And I like the way Don's character was developed too.

Whew, what a ride! The all-or-nothing gambit; the medical mystery; the double-, triple-, quadruple-, and I-lost-count-of-how-many crosses; unexpected redemption...all very well-crafted. Thank you so much! I utterly enjoyed this!

Really well written ! Interesting view of Don In This story- he does have some redeeming qualities after all! At first, I thought it was just an implant malfunction, but this made sense. It was great the way you weaved canon throughout. Excellent story!

Wow! What an adventure this has been! Congrats to the writer, it has suspense, mystery and surprises in every twist of the story..... Great! Of course, Jason played a big role in this.....this is definitely your year Jason!

This is great! It's got everything -- twists and turns, background story, Cronus, Anderson, Don Wade (always good for a suspense story!) and...oh yes! Jason! Loved it!

I love that you had Jason just be the first of them to get obviously sick, so many interesting twists in here!