****** Electric Blue, Episode 2 by Sweet T ******
===============================================================================

Electric Blue, Episode 2


Author's note: This is a sequel to "Electric Blue." If you have not read it,
please do so before you continue. Oh, and if any of the names in the story
sound familiar, I used the names of the members of Def Leppard. They are my
favorite group, and I used the names as sort of a tribute to them. If anybody
from, or affiliated with Def Leppard is reading this, I do not mean any
disrespect to them. I just used the NAMES, not their actual likenesses. (And if
Joe, Rick, Sav, Phil or Viv are reading this, I saw you in Denver, you ruled!
Tell Phil I said Happy Birthday too!)

**

Officially, the facility was an old tractor factory, closed down by the Blaine
Corporation almost ten years ago following one of the company's many hostile
takeovers. The Nicaragua-based company that had owned it was also long since
bankrupt, leaving a dilapidated building sitting in the middle of a wide
clearing in the dense Central American foliage.

Valerie Walker knew it was anything but. The exterior of the building still
looked run-down, but any layperson could see the open space around it had been
cleared enough to land a large transport on, and a small array of radar
antennae had been placed on the roof. Not to mention the number of armed guards
standing watch around the building's doors and several vehicles. And the single
tilt-engine civilian transport with the Blaine corporate logo on its fuselage,
too.

Val turned to study it. It was a standard civilian model, with no visible
weapons mounted on it, but that didn't mean there were none held internally.
She keyed her radio.

"Elliott, Walker," she whispered.

"Elliott," came her squadmate's reply. West of the building itself, Joe Elliott
was the closest to the aircraft.

"You see any movement in that transport over there?" She was sitting on the
east side and looking into the setting sun, which obscured what she might have
been able to see.

"Negative," his reply came a few seconds later. "Looks like just a pilot
waiting inside the cockpit."

"Acknowledged, out." The pilot, she thought to herself, was most likely waiting
for something specific. Idly, she wished Vivian Campbell, her own squad's
pilot, were with her to suggest why the vehicle was there in the first place,
instead of sitting fifty kilometers away to wait for retrieval orders that, if
they were lucky, would be sent in the next ten minutes.

Retrieval orders. Val hadn't run even a training mission in nearly two years,
and now she was in charge of taking down a secret warehouse 3000 kilometers
from the nation's capitol. Ten weeks ago she had run a dangerous, not to
mention illegal, insertion into the Blaine corporate headquarters in New York,
downloading the secret files and reporting them directly to the President
herself. She had then been ordered to assemble a small group to prevent
Blaine's operation, and while she had nothing less than complete faith in the
men and woman she had assembled, she had less faith in herself. She had had a
bare three weeks to assemble and train them, while Mack tinkered with the
Samurai design, then went through the painstaking twelve-hour process of
implanting it into each and every member.

Mack. Mariko Mishuri was sitting even now in a situation room with the
President, a few military personnel, the NSA and even fewer congressmen to
"supervise"- sit and watch were better terms- from Washington. Val's thoughts
flashed to her partner. After they delivered their info to the President, she
had told Mack of the possibility of having new legs. Mack's old injury had long
been a source of private pain, pain that Val herself had help alleviate...

She shook the thought aside. They had never spoken of that one night when they
had shared themselves. Mack was almost like a sister to her, and what they had
done, in retrospect, now seemed somehow wrong...

She pushed the thought aside. She had to keep her focus on what was at hand.
She radioed Rick Savage and Phil Collen on the south side. They acknowledged
that they were in position. "All units, stand by for emission, " Val ordered.

"Walker, Elliott, something's happening near the transport."

"What is it?" she asked.

"The transport's engines just turned on, and two, I repeat, two men just came
out of the building, coming toward it."

"Can you identify them?"

"Affirmative, one of them's Clark, I don't know the other." The two had just
come into Val's view now. Luther Clarke, William Foster Blaine's closest
advisor, and partner, he was fit but otherwise average-looking. Clarke was
obviously talking to the other man.

"Elliott, you hear what they're saying?"

"Negative, too far away. If I had a directional mike, I could...shit!"

"What is it?" Val snapped into her radio. She would chew him out about that
later, but anything to get him excited like that was worth serious attention.

"You watching in IR?" His voice was forced calm this time.

"Negative," she replied, but she switched over to infrared before Elliott could
tell her to do so. What she saw was unremarkable, the orange glow that was
typical of a human body, the darker blue-green background, the transport's
engines were slowly brightening to yellow as they warmed up. "I don't see
anything," she reported.

"It's Clark, just look at him!"

Val turned her attention back to him. A few minutes later she saw it as Clarke
turned to board the transport, and her view was cut off within seconds as the
doors closed.

But those seconds had been more than enough. "Joe, tell me you were recording
that."

"That's affirmative," he said. "What do you want to do about it? I can disable
the transport from here," he added.

Val thought for several long seconds. Yes, Elliott could easily cripple the
transport from where he was, but not without alerting everyone in the vicinity.
And even if Clark were detained successfully, Blaine would notice his absence
all too easily. "Negative," she said finally. "Let him go. We'll decide what to
do later."

A minute later, the transport's engines tilted into vertical. It rose smoothly,
turned north and headed off. Within minutes it was out of sight. "All units,
this is Walker. Emit... now!"

She muttered a short command. The familiar electric blue glow began at the
small of her back, spreading along the wires under her skin. The glow was
mostly blocked out by their lightweight jungle fatigues. It was over within
seconds, and she was wrapped heat to toe in sleek metal. Val called her
teammates, and they reported successful emission as well. Mack had worked a few
improvements. The original design had been altered, instead of conforming to
major muscle groups around the body, the metal had taken a more contoured look,
which alleviated the heating problems that came from metal being held so close
to the skin. The sleeker appearance also made the user less observable to
radar, which was always helpful when airborne.

Val lifted her old-fashioned assault rifle. She privately hated using it. Not
that the M-16 wasn't a reliable weapon, but she had always preferred using
energy weapons. But the one advantage the rifles gave didn't come from
firepower: they would leave shell casings everywhere, giving the impression
that the operation had been done by guerrillas rather than agents of the US
government.

"All units," she ordered. "Stand by to execute."

It was like something out of a movie, Mariko Mishuri thought to herself. The
situation room was somewhere in the White House, she didn't know exactly where,
and neither, she suspected, did the President. Or the NSA, or the Secret
Service, or Senator Tracey. The Republican from California was the only such
person allowed this deep into the project.

On a main screen, two meters wide, was a satellite view of the building. Viewed
in infrared, the personnel around the building had an eerie green-white glow
against the dark green background. Neither Val nor the rest of the team was
visible, as they had been concealed in the foliage. Even if they moved out,
after emission, they would not have been visible, the armor effectively
blocking their IR signatures.

The President and Tracey were talking quietly in the corner when Mack finally
heard the report. "Mack," Val's voice came. "Come in."

"Go ahead," Mack replied, her voice tightly controlled.

"Did you see the Beech that just lifted off?"

"Affirmative."

"Clarke was on it, and we saw something." Mack could hear Val sigh quietly on
the other end. "Get the President for me."

Mack called her over. "Did you see on Clark what we saw?" Val asked without
preamble.

"Negative, Agent Walker," the President said, pulling headphones over her ears.
"What did you see?"

Valerie hesitated. "Not on this line, I'll tell you when we get back." The line
went dead.

"Speaking of which," Tracey said stepping over to the other two. "Tell the team
to get this over with." It had been obvious he never liked the project from the
beginning.

"You have a problem with this, Senator?" Mariko asked him quietly.

"There's more than twenty others inside there, that will probably all be
killed," Tracey said in slow, measured tones practiced through years of
campaigning and giving speeches. It was well known he had never served in
uniform. "Walker and all the others are killers just doing this."

"Under my orders, Senator," the President added.

"Agent Walker does not carve notches on her gun," Mariko said in an icy voice
that made even the Secret Service blink. Even Tracey seemed to shrink several
centimeters at that.

"This is Walker," Valerie's voice came again. Mack looked at her displays, she
was transmitting to both the sit room and to her squad. "Be advised, will
execute in one minute."

Settling deeper in the brush, Val settled her rifle against her shoulder,
resting her sights on the head of her target. One by one, the others reported
they had acquired their targets. "This is Walker," she said again. "All units,
execute... now."

They fired, all four of them taking out their targets in the same moment.
Elliott, Savage and Collen sprinted from their locations into the open, firing
as they went. Second and third targets went down. The pair of laminar-flow
wings hanging down Val's back snapped into place and she was airborne, rising
vertically to land on the roof. Two more bursts and the two roof guards were
down, the clip from her rifle was ejected, she slapped another into place as
she ran forward, pausing by the roof entrance.

Within seconds came a muffled explosion as Savage slapped a plastic explosive
to the main entrance below her. A few more seconds and the sound of two
sharper, louder explosions reached her as flash-bangs were tossed inside, the
flash and noise incapacitating those inside. They never saw their attackers.

Collen and Savage split to the sides, firing while Elliott ran down the center.
Val burst through the roof door and practically leaped down the stairs, coming
out on a catwalk some twenty meters above the floor. Suddenly her shoulder
jerked back as though punched, there was a guard ten meters in front of her,
pointing a pistol at her. His head exploded in a shower of red, Savage firing
from below, and he collapsed.

"Walker, you all right?" That was Savage asking her. She answered, then checked
via radio with the other members. None were hit or injured.

Then it was over. Collen swore softly as they looked around the area.

"It's a good thing we found out about all this," he said. The interior of the
building had been emptied into essentially a large warehouse. A warehouse
filled with orderly rows of armored vehicles, armed tilt-engine transports and
stacks of weapons and ammunition.

"No shit," Val said. "Let's finish this up." They pulled out bricks of C-4, a
compound as common as it was old, fixing them against vehicles and ammo crates.

"Walker, get a look at this," Collen's voice came over the radio. She joined
him in the center of the factory.

"Shit," she muttered. The crate was shaped differently from the rest. There was
a yellow and black symbol on the side that had been scraped mostly off, but it
was easy to read that it had been a radiation warning. They found crowbars and
pried it opened.

"Shit," she said again. It was definitely a nuke, small enough to be mounted on
an aircraft. "They charges won't set this off, will they?"

"I dunno," Collen said, shaking his head. Even if they didn't, the blast would
still wreck the hell out of it, sending pieces of the radioactive core in all
directions.

Val made her decision. "Cover it up, we're taking it with us." She grabbed her
radio. "Campbell, Walker. We're all done here, come give us a lift, would ya?"

"Acknowledged, Walker." If Campbell was disappointed she hadn't been able to
share in the takedown, it didn't show in her voice. They spread out into the
trees again, and ten minutes later the transport appeared, flaring and coming
to hover centimeters above the ground while they raced out of cover and jumping
inside. Elliott and Savage hauled the crate inside

They settled onto the troop deck while Campbell steered away from the area.
Another ten minutes and they settled in another spot forty klicks distant,
reverting out of their armor.

"Vivian?" Savage said, holding out the detonator. "Care to do the honors?"

"Love to," she said, took it from him and pressed the button.. There was a
flash., and a minute later a dull rumble reached them. The group shared a
nervous/relieved laugh, as they were finally able to relax a little.

"Walker, you're hit," Collen said suddenly. Val looked at her shoulder, moving
her shirt aside to look. There was a small hole and scorch mark through the
material, but her skin underneath was otherwise undamaged. She had taken a hit
somewhere, and hadn't even noticed. It would not have been fatal, even without
the armor protecting her, but it definitely would have hurt.

She forced her mind away from it. The endorphins that had been rushing through
her suddenly seemed to drain from her, and she sagged against the transport's
side.

Collen helped her up, fighting his own fatigue. "C'mon, Val, let's blow."

Five minutes later they were approaching the coastline, when Campbell asked,
"What's in the crate."

"Something big," Collen told her, his Secret Service-trained voice devoid of
emotion.

"How big?"

"About sixty kilotons, I'd say."

"Fuck!" Campbell managed not to throw them into a spin. They were now carrying
a NUKE into international waters! If they were shot of forced down...

Fate continued to smile on them, and an hour later they landed at Pensacola.
The Air Force had already separated a hangar for them. They rest had a few
hours rest but there was barely enough time for Valerie to change and grab a
flight up to Washington.

Her debriefing in the Oval Office was a disturbing echo of the same she and
Mariko had given the President ten weeks ago. Except this time she was almost
dizzy with fatigue, and had to endure Senator Tracy's grilling about every
small detail. The NSA and Mack could only partially deflect his endless
questions, until Val showed the video Elliott had shot of Luther Clark.

He had been much closer, and Clark's glow in infrared was much brighter at that
distance. His left arm, being much cooler than the rest of his body, showed a
darker blue.

"So his arm's blue, what does that mean?" Senator Tracy asked, not
understanding the look of dread from Valerie, Mariko and the NSA..

"It means," the NSA said, in the quiet voice of one who doesn't want to believe
the plainly obvious. "That Blaine has perfected cybernetics."

"But scientists have been researching cybernetics for decades," Tracy
protested, clearly not getting it.

"One of the problems with cybernetic limbs," Valerie snapped harder than she
meant to, "is that the body will try very, very hard to reject the new
material. In all cases the shock of that magnitude has resulted in death for
the subject. It means," she felt her temper beginning to rise, and she paused
for a breath.

"It means that the Blaine researchers have figured a way around the problem,"
Mariko finished for her. "And reliably, too, otherwise he would never have
installed it on his closest advisor."

"So what now?" Tracey settled back in the chair. One of the Blaine
Corporation's major divisions was in his state, and all he was thinking about
was the effect this would have on his constituents.

"We wait," the President said. "We quit while we're ahead, and cut Blaine off
again the next time he tries to get clever." She rose, and all but Val and
Mariko stood with her. "That's all for now, gentlemen, and I have to be in
Denver in six hours. Good night." Tracey and the NSA were escorted out of the
office.

"Dr Mishuri, Agent Walker," the President said. "I know this has been
difficult. Believe me, if all of this weren't so secret, you'd be having a
ticker-tape parade tomorrow, interviews next week and book deals by the end of
the month. You did good, if there's anything else you need, please ask."

"Thank you, Madam President," Val said. "But right now I'd settle for a hot
shower and a soft bed."

"I can at least give you that," the President replied with a chuckle.

Despite her fatigue, Val slept little. She slept even less in the hospital the
next day.

The surgery she, and later the others of her team, had gone through had been
difficult, tedious and dangerous. Working with only a few trusted surgeons,
Mariko had supervised the twelve-hour procedure. It had involved nearly 100
meters of superconducting wire to be inserted millimeters under the skin. Then
came the difficult and dangerous attachment of the Samurai alloy storage unit
into the spinal cord. A mistake of even a few millimeters then, if they were
lucky, would have meant total paralysis for the patient.

At least Val had been unconscious then. Now was even worse while her friend and
partner was now under the knife, in the improbable hope that she would be given
new legs. Not cybernetic legs, but real flesh and blood culture-grown from her
own samples of muscle, skin and bone.

For fifteen hours Valerie sat, stood, paced, slept fitfully and waited.. At one
time Collen, Savage, Elliott and Campbell joined her, to check on her progress,
only to hear the same Val had heard: Nothing.

Valerie finally dozed off around four that afternoon when someone woke her up.

"What is it," she asked, fighting the sudden fear rising in her. "What!"

"Val," the President's brother said. "Mariko is doing fine. She's still under
anesthesia, but the operation went well. Do you want to see her?" He didn't
need an answer, he was already leading her into the OR, where Mariko was slowly
coming around.

"Hey there," Val said to her friend. Mariko was too sedated to do more than
look up at her. "They say it went well." Mariko only nodded, then drifted off
to sleep again.

"Most of the supporting muscles have atrophied, but she kept in shape
otherwise," the surgeon told her. "That'll definitely help. With enough therapy
and exercise, she should regain most of the use of her legs within a few
months."

She nodded, blinking back sudden tears. "Thank you," she managed finally. She
returned to her couch in the waiting room, and finally got some decent sleep.

She was roused again as Mariko began to wake up. "Hey, you," Valerie, smiled
down at her friend. "They expect that you'll make a good recovery with enough
exercise."

"You'll... help me?" Mariko mumbled sleepily.

"I haven't done PT in a while," Val joked weekly, "but I'll try."

She did, over the next two weeks, pushing her friend as hard as she could. She
didn't need to, Mariko forced herself nearly to the point of fainting.
Gradually her muscles began to grow, but still not enough to be able to stand
on her own, something which frustrated her. While out one day, Val found and
bought her a small Bonsai tree, which Mariko took to trimming after her
exercises. Somehow the little tree gave her a sense of peace, and calm and
determination.

Three weeks after the operation, mer body bathed in sweat, Mariko was sitting
naked in the tub while Val helped her wash. Val was stripped to her underwear,
massing Mack's legs.

"Did anyone tell you that you have pretty nice legs?" She asked with a giggle.
She didn't notice Mariko's blush. Done with her legs, she stood and climbed
into the tub behind her, pulling her damp hair aside and rubbed her shoulders.
Sitting down, her panties were quickly soaked through. There was little room,
and her long legs were against Mariko's as she rubbed the shampoo into her
hair.

Mariko didn't say anything, but she was acutely aware of Val's lean body
against her. Unconsciously she leaned back until Val's breasts were against her
shoulder blades. The two hard points of her nipples pressed into her skin, and
her own tingled and hardened in response.

Suddenly Mariko felt her face warming, and saw her skin flushing pink down to
her breasts.

"Mack?" Valerie said, her voice suddenly heavy. She didn't reply, she felt
herself leaning back until her head rested on Val's shoulder. The two women
looked into each other's eyes, not speaking, just feeling the other's warm
breath on her face.

They had never spoken of that one night. Earlier it had felt wrong what they
had done.

But suddenly their skin on skin felt so right somehow.

"Mack," Val said again.

Mariko silenced her, putting a finger to her lips. She shook her head.

Valerie nodded, climbing out of the tub. She bent down, easily scooping her
friend up in her arms. Carrying her out of the bathroom, she lay her gently
down on the bed, lying down next to her.

"I never told you before, Mack," Val said, propping herself up on one elbow,
looking deep into her eyes. "But I always thought of you as a sister to me."

"That does not make this incest, if that's what you're worried about."

It took a minute for Val to stop laughing. But when she did, something had
broken down between the two friends. Val leaned down, gently kissing her on the
lips. She felt her sigh, her head tilting and Mariko's soft lips opening up.
Her warm mouth pulled Valerie's tongue inside, welcome and willing.

They pressed into each other, the urgency growing as their hearts began to
race. Mariko's warm, gentle hands were stroking her back, there was a sudden
snap and her brassiere fell away. There was something warm and soft in her
hands, it took her a minute to realize she was cupping her breasts.

Moaning softly, she let her weight fall slowly onto Mariko's body. Their legs
twined around each other. Mariko's hands were moving again, and suddenly her
panties were down around her ankles. Somehow she felt she needed to be nude
with her friend.

After what felt like hours she pulled away. Mariko's cheeks were flushed, her
eyes dilated and her lips swollen.

"Valerie, please," Mariko said, her voice heavy with longing..

Val didn't answer,. Instead she kissed her again, this time letting her hands
and mouth explore on their own. Mariko's firm nipples were in her mouth, and
suddenly she was being pushed down ward, lower. Her lips met soft pubic hair.
The feminine aroma filled her head, intoxicating.

Mariko moaned loudly as Val took her first taste. She writhed in pleasure as
Val's tongue explored her. All too soon Val stopped.

Mariko pushed herself up weakly. When she did manage to sit up, she saw
Valerie's lips moist from her own fluids. They kissed again, sharing her taste.
Val's warm hands were around her knees, pulling her forward. Their bodies met,
pubic hair meshing together, pushing desperately against each other.

Moaning into each other's mouth, they rocked back and forth. Slowly at first,
then faster, responding to each other's desires. Finally they stopped, holding
each other tightly as they were overwhelmed by their orgasm.

Panting, they released each other and collapsed backwards onto the bed, their
legs still wrapped around the other woman's abdomen.

"Thank you, Valerie," Mariko finally whispered. Her arms weak, Val crawled up,
holding her tightly.

"Don't mention it." No, she decided, this could never be wrong. No more words
were exchanged while they lay in each other's arms. Eventually they fell
asleep.

Outside was an almost godlike view of New York. Not surprising, Senator Tracy
thought, that the one who used the office would prefer such a view. It was on
the top floor of the Blaine Corporate Headquarters.

"Well," William Foster Blaine asked, leaning back idly in his chair. "What have
you for me tonight?"

"Quite a lot," Tracey said. He tossed the folder on the large, expensive desk.
Blaine looked it over. Major Valerie Joanne Walker, US Marine Core with two
Silver Stars, three Purple Hearts, Navy Cross, and an endless list of
accomplishments and commendations. Date of birth, educational records. No
criminal record, and currently Secret Service and assistant head of the
President's Detail.

"Is that all?" Tracey had also brought the files of Dr. Mariko Mishuri, and the
others who were involved in the assault on the Nicaraguan facility. And a small
data disk.

On it was the infrared recording Joe Elliott had taken of Clark.

"So," Luther Clark asked. "They new about our recent R&D breakthroughs?" He
handed a large manila envelope to the senator. "Very interesting." Tracey left
without opening it, or counting what was inside.

"Yes," Blaine said when he had left. He looked at the disk, and the personnel
files in front of him. "Let's see what we can find out about these people, and
this Samurai project." Clark nodded and left. "It's very interesting," Blaine
said to himself.

Questions, comments or story ideas? Email is always welcome!

Tasty183@aol.com

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