Ain't War Hell?
By: Maximillian von Fischgeist 

Chapter Fourteen
Loyalty

    Dr. Odem's thumb had lightened miraculously from the black of pestilence and disease to the green of vibrant life. Wildcat stood in the greenhouse, surrounded by his handiwork: Row after row of living, growing foliage which had, a day before, been nothing more than decaying reminders that all things, naturally or not, must die. Or must they? These plants seemed to prove otherwise.

    She had arrived a few minutes early, and waited now for Major Bludd, who didn't give a reason for his wanting to speak to her. His choice of location was equally mysterious.

    Wildcat moved slowly along the regimented rows of plants, amazed at the variety contained within the greenhouse. Certain sections were artificially climate-controlled, depending on the needs of the plants, which did not preclude light. As a result, some areas were brightly lit while others were currently kept in the dark, much like Wildcat, who now wondered why the section she presently stopped to ponder still appeared to be dead. Had Odem's antidote failed on this particular plant? This was the only one she'd seen that didn't look completely healthy. She leaned over to read the plaque indicating the plant's name: BRASSAVOLA NODOSA. At the bottom, scribbled in dark writing, were the hastily-written words slow response -- why? -- more research.

    A steadily-paced series of footsteps (familiar in gait) derailed Wildcat's train of thought. Bludd. She straightened and turned to see him walking toward her. Though his eyepatch was in place, he didn't wear his helmet and his black (dyed? The color certainly didn't look natural) hair shot in every direction. He stopped near her and flicked his one-eyed glance at the plant apparently still in the throes of doom. "One of the unlucky ones," he said.

    "There are more?" she asked.

    He nodded twice, slowly. "But a small enough percentage that Cobra Commander has announced that he will move immediately."

    Wildcat caught the underlying sneer in the tone of his voice. "Cobra Commander?"

    "Walk with me," he said. She joined him and they embarked on a leisurely stroll through the gardens. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, so much so that she had to concentrate to make out his words. "We are being observed. Keep your voice low and your movements inconspicuous." There were no guards in the greenhouse, but there were more efficient means of surveillance than flesh and blood. She didn't know just where the cameras and microphones might be, and she wondered if he did. "Cobra Commander took Destro by surprise and now our work has proven to be for naught. Destro has lost the initiative and is as close to desperation as I've seen him. The last thing we wanted was for the Commander to assume control of this operation. So, now, we work against it."

    "How?" she asked. "If the project is sabotaged, it will be pretty obvious who the saboteurs are."

    "There is a way," Bludd said. He flicked a piercing glance at her.

    Wildcat's blood went cold, seemed to harden into slush, which sent her heart into a shocked and painful lurch. Needles stung the veins in her arms. "There has to be a patsy," she stated, knowing full well who it was to be. "Me."

    Bludd stopped by a patch of common wildflowers, white and yellow all intermixed with no identifiable pattern. He leaned over and picked a white flower from the bunch and held it up, twirling it idly by the stem in his fingers. "A seemingly innocuous flower, but, actually, it is potentially quite dangerous." He held it out to Wildcat. "I give it to you, for safekeeping."

    She didn't take it. "I've been loyal." A soft feeling of panic bubbled in her chest. "I am always loyal."

    Bludd brushed one side of her hair back, exposing the ear, behind which he tucked the flower's stem. "It suits you, Wildcat. Like you, it's not unpretty. But its true importance is that it contains in its now-altered genetic structure the antidote to Odem's poison. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, the poison could be counteracted. Cobra Commander's schemes would fail. Cobra would suffer a crushing blow, what with the military actions he has planned to follow and enforce the mass poisoning. A full-scale coup, you know. Large military actions have a peculiar tendency toward terrible failure, often with grievous casualties, when leadership - accidentally, of course - mysteriously breaks down in the field. Why, it would take a superb tactical mind like, oh, Destro's or mine, for example, to dream up and execute such grand confusion and make it look authentic. Heavy losses of manpower and equipment, debilitating humiliation... Cobra Commander might not recover. I fear we might have to rally behind Destro should such a catastrophe unfold. And all over this one little flower."

    "Which I hold," she whispered. Her heart beat so forcefully that it almost drowned out her whisper to her own ears. "For safekeeping."

    "For safekeeping," he repeated, his eye glittering with a strange pity. "I know you'll do the right thing."

    "I am already dead," she said. "You've dug my grave and you want me to lie down in it."

    He sighed. His face softened for a moment. It was an odd display, one not entirely repulsive. "If we had another way out, Wildcat..." He shook his head, and his face hardened again, but the look in his eye remained sympathetic somehow. "In every situation, there is room for maneuvering. Death, or life, is what you make of it."

    "You've said that before."

    "But it's true."

    "You can't ask me to do this." It was hardly a whisper, hardly even an exhalation.

    Bludd straightened and took step back. "Ah, but I don't have to. You're so loyal."

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Continued in Part Fifteen!
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