Doubled Edge 6a/10

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Doubled Edge by Katt Solano
Disclaimers & furhter hoopla in part 0
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Glenfinnan, Scotland...

The women returned about an hour later. Their faces were studies in
aloofness, revealing nothing as they strolled back to the car. Methos, who
had retreated back into his laptop, gave them an equally disinterested
glance while the two other men stiffened like hunting dogs scenting prey.

"Well?" Duncan and Cerny chorused.

"Russel Nash and his family moved away twenty months ago and left no
forwarding address," Kala replied, "Their mail is sent to Marrakech as soon
as it arrives here, which is now rare."

"Rachel told you all of this?" Duncan didn't know if he was pleased at the
lead or shocked that his kinsman's privacy was given away so quickly to
complete strangers.

"No," said Devaki, "We told Rachel MacLeod that we were looking for an
artefact precious to our country that Mr. Nash might have. She only told us
that they moved away. The post office gave us the rest of the information."
She held out a laminated card. "Diplomatic identification comes in very
handy."

"So we go to Marrakech." Cerny was already heading to their car but Kala
stopped him with a gesture.

"This is too easy," she said.

Methos snorted. "You weren't chased by Caelum and creatures that go bump in
the night. I don't want to see your version of hard."

"No, you don't." Kala turned her attention to the green, craggy horizon,
thinking her plans over.

"We're going to Marrakech whether or not you do," Duncan said adamantly.

"We _will_ go to Marrakech," said Kala, "I simply think it wise to bring
reinforcements."

A shrill whistle cut through the air, like a large teapot screaming steam.
Unlike the citizens of Glenfinnan, who had escaped the worst of the wars for
the past century, the little group of five recognize the sound of a missile.
While Duncan bellowed for everyone to duck, Methos grabbed the Highlander's
collar and dragged him to safety behind the car. The explosion roared, a
crazed lion with Hell's own breath reaching down their lungs. Duncan
coughed, his eyes closed against the debris. The smoke smelled strange, with
a tang not unlike cranberries.

Devaki shoved something against Duncan's face, a mask made of a tough black
cloth. He saw Cerny helping Methos with his own mask. It pulled down like a
ski mask to cover everything though a thick vertical strip of reflective
plastic came over the eyes. Devaki secured the tapes in the back of his
head, tucking the longer strands of his hair into the mask.

"There are attachments for your nose and mouth," said Devaki. Duncan
realised she spoke through a transmitter, those harder plates at his ears.
The nosepiece had to be tightened over his nose. He tucked a flap of plastic
inside his cheeks. The fruity smell disappeared as soon as he did so.

"This is more like it," muttered Cerny. Duncan saw him fix something at his
wrists. From inside his coat, the Ichor Born pulled out a firearm, similar
to the one Jetblayd had had but with a longer barrel and a rounder shape.

"What the hell is it?" demanded Duncan. A Glock was firmly gripped in his
two hands. He felt the satisfying weight of several magazines in his coat.

"You can call them allies of the Caelum if you wish," said Kala, "They call
themselves Breeders. They study a people for their 'fitness to survive' and
exterminate anyone they deem unfit."

"Eugenics is alive and well," Methos put in.

"Who do you think gave Hitler the idea?" retorted Cerny. He closed his eyes,
listening, alert.

"They will wait for the gas to do its work," Devaki said, "then come in for
their prey."

"Meaning us," said Methos.

"Yes. Perhaps the rest of the people of this city, also. Killing two birds
with one stone, so to speak."

"Just like that?" Duncan was outraged. "Don't they even care about what
other people will think? Other countries? World leaders?"

"Mr. MacLeod, the Breeders consider themselves far above such
organizations."

"Are they above dying?"

Cerny smiled, his teeth brilliant against his ebony skin. "No."

Kala hushed them with her hand, pressing herself deeper into the scant
safety that the car provided. "They're here."

A cold wind accompanied the gigantic shadow of an airship. Duncan thought
he'd seen everything with Ahriman. Apparently, flying saucers had to be
added to his list of 'everything.'

"What are the chances that that thing has an intensely vulnerable spot that
we can hit from down here?" Methos inquired, his voice overly polite.

"None," answered Kala.

"So, how do we stop it?"

"We wait for it to stop and let the Breeders out then capture one of its
planes."

"And Glenfinnan?" Duncan's eyes flashed with anger.

"One is one small town compared to the world?" Devaki asked, her voice
urgent.

"It's _my_ town!"

"Mac, take a closer look at that thing" Methos urged, "There are five of us
and--" He looked questioningly at Devaki.

"At least a thousand of them," she answered.

"We're not going to make a dent."

Duncan growled. 'I'm not going to leave these people here to be
slaughtered!"

"We don't know that they will be," Kala said, "They are after us. If we
leave, they might follow and no further harm will be done with your
Glenfinnan."

The airship hummed.

"They're lowering the platform," said Cerny, his hands convulsively
tightening on the barrel of his firearm. "Command me, Captain."

"Keep down; you are the only one who knows how to drive their planes. We
will act as diversion. Take advantage of any openings you see." To the rest,
she said, "Attack those who are closer to the ground; should they crash,
their plans will not be as damaged."

They were all experienced fighters and soldiers; they needed no prompting to
fall into formation and fan out. Duncan let out a barrage at the base of the
airship where the planes seemed to be exiting, allowing Devaki to run to an
over turned car on the other side of the street closer to the ship. Methos
and Kala had disappeared. Duncan peeked over the hood of the car. Yes,
Methos and Devaki were roughly the same distance away from him. He didn't
see Kala but somehow, he knew she could take care of herself. Cerny jerked
his head.

"I will cover you."

Duncan nodded his thanks and agreement. Cerny let out a volley of shots,
managing to wing one plane. Duncan took advantage of that distraction to run
to Devaki's side. She, too, was firing over his back, puling him by the
sleeve that last few inches.

"You have been hit." She said.

Duncan was about to dispute the statement. Then a rushof cold shot from his
calf, so intense, he could feel it up to his lungs. He looked down. And
wished he hadn't. His calf muscle was missing, burned clean off so that he
could see his scorched, bloody bones. His head started to want to float off
of his neck.

"Concentrate," Devaki commanded, slapping him sharply, "You will heal from
it. It is already beginning. If you faint from shock, your home will suffer
for it."

Duncan took deep breaths that were supposed to be calming, trying to lose
himself in a mantra.

"I have something for the pain," he heard Devaki say moments before he felt
a pinch at his neck.

Whatever it was, it worked wonders. A few seconds later, when the burning
had eased, Duncan looked down, saw Devaki binding the wound and felt nothing
more than slight nausea at the sight. "What did you give me?"

"A combination of chemicals and synthetic hormones," said Devaki, taping off
the bandage, "It will numb your nervous system and boost your adrenaline."

"Drugs don't work very long on me," Duncan said.

"We just need it long enough for your leg to re-grow. Do you know how long
that will take?"

"Less that five minutes."

But Devaki was already shaking her head. "In five minutes, this will be
over." She removed small capsule-shaped object from a pouch at her waist. It
had a very wicked pointy end. "More hormones," she said, "It will make you
numb to the pain longer. You will be able to run even with the leg partially
healed."

"Do it," growled Duncan. The rush of the hormones felt like ice water and
made his blood sing as soon as it hit his veins. Suddenly, he felt
invincible, like he could jump into orbit and fly around the world, take on
a thousand Kronoses or Kurgans or Ahrimans, like he was a prince of the
universe, like--

"It can have hyper-stimulating effects," Devaki was saying but Duncan paid
her no mind.

His eyes going amber with light, Duncan shot up from behind the car, Glock
in one hand, sword in the other and charged the nearest plane. It had dipped
down a scant fifteen feet off of the ground, spotting a target-- namely,
Methos-- that it could fire at. The older Immortal watched in shock and
anger as the madman wearing MacLeod's body head straight for the plane.
Whoever was controlling it seemed just as surprised; his shots faltered for
a moment. Then, thinking that he might as well help the deranged, screaming
barbarian with his death wish, the pilot aimed all four barrels at Duncan.

With the nose of the small airplane coming at him, and lasers carving the
ground around and behind him, Duncan let out a war cry more fitting in a
medieval battleground and jumped _at_ the plane. He landed, scrabbling, on
the nose and found his balance long enough to drive his katana into the
transparent roof. The bullets, heat rays, chemical burners-- all would have
been useless against the alien polymer. However, the engineers who had
designed it hadn't counted on anyone crazy enough to take a sword to an
airplane.

The katana sliced cleanly through the roof and intothe deltoid of the pilot
underneath and fixed itself into the seat. It was stuck fast. Duncan would
not leave his katana; the glitter in his eyes hadn't receded.

"Oh, bloody hell." Methos crawled out from behind his car, heading towards
Kala who was crouched a few yards away behind a pick-up truck.

"Is your friend usually so enthusiastic?" she asked,still sounding and
looking calm as can be as she picked off her targets with uncanny accuracy.

"I hope not," said Methos, "It's bad enough when he tries to blend into the
woodwork."

"At least he got us a plane."

With its driver out of commission, the plane wobbled for a few seconds,
trying valiantly to get lift. Unfortunately, it lost its fight with its own
weight. Sparks flew as metal screeched against concrete, the plane moaning
as it scored a groove in the road. Duncan, hands still firmly attached to
the hilt of his katana, straddled the cockpit's cover. He closed his eyes
uselessly as the plane shuddered to a final stop inches away from Devaki's
hiding place, throwing him nose over heels over the car. His arm crunched
against the ground first, the rest of his body following with a dull thud.

Methos winced. That had to hurt.

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