“Guilt, Jonathan?”
Jonathan shook his head. “You call me Jonathan. To be fair, I don’t know what else you would call me. But we both know it’s a half-truth at best.”
Heyer drew in a long breath as he stared back at the man. Of course, he recognized that Jonathan’s behavior had changed dramatically. Of course, he knew that it had to do with Douglas’s memories, or the broken bond, or the amount of time he’d been trapped in The Never. Yet, the way Jonathan spoke now left Heyer to wonder if he had underestimated the extent of these things.
“Half-truth,” Heyer whispered.
“Heyer, you’re starting to worry me,” Jonathan said.
The alien was a while in replying. “I . . . I think I have underestimated . . .”
He trailed off.
When Heyer spoke again, he did so as though he’d had to reorient a great deal in his mind. In fact, he abruptly changed the subject. “Anthony tells me that Rylee’s father is with us. That you’ve spoken with him.”
Jonathan nodded. “What of it?”
“You sent your own mother away but brought Mr. Silva here. Why?”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “Are we not in Rylee’s debt, Heyer?”
“The entire world is in her debt,” he said.
“Yet, now that she’s gone, we can never repay her,” Jonathan said. “She wanted her father to know the truth. Not being able to tell him caused her great pain. Do you doubt that I know this?”
Heyer’s face softened a bit. Of course, if there was one person in this world who might have known Rylee’s dying wishes, it was Jonathan.
“You seem to be holding up to the severed bond rather well,” Heyer finally said. “I feared your condition would be an insurmountable one.”
Jonathan nodded and nothing more.
Heyer had never thought of him as particularly chatty, but his stoicism on matters was new, and it was making his efforts to feel out answers far more difficult than in the past. Almost as though Jonathan was forcing him to step into territory where he wouldn’t be welcome if he wanted a straight answer.
“You want to know why the broken bond hasn’t killed me. That’s what you’re dancing around?” Jonathan asked.
Heyer turned sympathetic eyes on him. “I don’t believe in miracles. The bond’s power came with consequences. I don’t see the marks of them on you.”
Jonathan took a long breath. “I understand why you’re asking. But, I’m not a liability.”
He turned away from the alien, still headed toward the back of the chamber as Heyer stood still. The alien could hear his patience waning as he let out a breath. “Jonathan, there are no records of a man surviving a broken bond. The only exception—”
“I’m aware,” Jonathan interrupted, but didn’t stop moving.
“What you aren’t saying is what troubles me,” Heyer said. Those were the words that made him pause, but not turn around. “Jonathan, no one would judge you. If you have . . . if you had to do something to yourself . . . to survive.”
He was still for a long moment. When he turned, it was only to hold Heyer’s gaze with one eye.
“There was a price,” Jonathan said. “I paid it.”
“What price?” Heyer asked.
When Jonathan turned back, there was a look on his face that was familiar—a look Heyer had only ever seen on a different member of the Tibbs family. The alien knew what that look meant before Jonathan spoke. “Let it go, Old Man.”
“I cannot do that in good conscience,” Heyer said, plainly.
“You can and you will.”
“Will I?”
“You either trust me or you don’t,” Jonathan said.
He blinked—temporarily caught off guard. In their relationship, trust had only ever needed to flow in one direction. Heyer had never imagined it being asked of him. He found it quite uncomfortable.
“Decide right now. Because in the days to come,” Jonathan said, “I need you to trust me, no matter what. There are going to be questions that you’re not going to get answers to. But I’m not asking you for anything more than you asked of my father and me a hundred times over.”
Heyer found he was resisting a powerful urge to growl by letting a long breath drain out of him. This was going poorly enough, he realized, that it would be best to come back to it at another time.
Heyer took off his hat and cleared his throat. “What brings us to the armory, Jonathan?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
JONATHAN CROSSED TO the end of the Armory. There, he came to stare at the Alpha Slayer’s pedestal. Heyer knew what the man was considering. He had stood at that exact spot with the same tormented expression.
He took a place on the opposite side of the pedestal. Jonathan picked up the Alpha Slayer, gazed down at his palm, then closed his eyes and put the implant back. Heyer was suddenly doubtful that this was the first time he’d done this—though it was likely the first time with an audience.
“I understand. I have always been troubled by the choice that infernal thing represents.”
“It’s in our possession—and the one man who can use it is our prisoner,” Jonathan said. “I don’t believe in fate, but if I were going to start . . .”
Heyer sighed. “I hoped returning it to the Foedrata Arena would make the decision for me. I suppose, had I been committed to my decision I would have thrown the thing into space rather than somewhere I always knew I could recover it.”
“And today?”
“Same as every other. I simply wish there were someone else,” Heyer said. “If we trust Grant with it, we must trust him until the day he dies. If I am not mistaken, at the moment you do not trust him enough to let him out of his cell.”
“You disagree with keeping him isolated?” Jonathan asked.
“I . . .”
Heyer trailed off, turned his palms up with a slight chuckle. “If I am being honest, I was unconscious when you decided. It saved me the trouble of needing an opinion.”
Jonathan scoffed and shook his head.
“Other than me, how many know about the chain of command?” Jonathan asked.
“Only Anthony, and Mr. Clean himself,” Heyer said. “But . . . as you pointed out earlier, while we are in a building full of allies, there is no way to ever be certain they have not or will not learn something they should not. Rylee has taught us the danger our own shadows can create for us.”
Jonathan sighed. “I hate him, Heyer. I can’t help it. I can’t change it.”
Heyer nodded.
“Jonathan, is there something I need to know? Something important enough you would consider trusting Grant Morgan?”
Jonathan closed his eyes and nodded. His fist clenching and unclenching.
“When I was trapped in my queue, if I got curious about something outside the human world, I could wait until Mr. Clean was active on the next loop to get an answer.”
Heyer frowned, his arms folding over his chest. “Go on.”
Jonathan licked his lips and looked at the Alpha Slayer again “Heyer, you were the one who warned me that once you know something there isn’t any going back. This may be the one time I can give you the same warning.”
At first, he regarded Jonathan as though he were being overly dramatic. After all, realistically it seemed unlikely that something had occurred to Jonathan in his queue loop that, in all his years, had never crossed his mind as well.
“Jonathan, if you know something that truly has you considering whether or not we should trust Grant . . .”
Heyer paused, apparently, he’d had to hear himself say the words out loud, because suddenly Jonathan’s offer to keep this information to himself seemed to warrant far more consideration.
“Yep,” Jonathan said. “Blissful ignorance or the heavy crown? You should really take a minute.”
Heyer sighed. “If only the world were not at stake . . .”
With every activation, Grant’s shadow had been there inside the shell. Eying Jonathan wearil
y from behind that thick plastic of The Cell’s prison.
But . . . a shadow is a complex thing.
On the one hand, the original person can’t be held accountable for what their shadow might have done once gripped by The Never’s mental degradation. On the other hand, the mind is an emotional beast and sometimes no amount of such reason will change it.
Jonathan knew that the person he wanted to hurt—the person responsible—was already dead. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean he could stop feeling an urge to take vengeance on each new incarnation placed in front of him at the start of each loop.
Then one day, as Jonathan looked at the man’s shadow sitting behind that plastic wall—an unwanted thought came to him. That shadow he had fought and killed had lived in the lair of the enemy. Neither Jonathan nor Heyer had any way of knowing just how long Grant’s shadow had been beside Malkier. This was because the Alpha Slayer implant had extended his life far longer than the degradation would normally allow.
What might that shadow have witnessed?
Jonathan’s first inclination: Probably nothing of value.
But, how careful would Malkier be around such a man? A shadow, not long for the world, his mental state already in deterioration. The conversations both Heyer and Jonathan had exchanged with the shadow told them that, at the very least, he had witnessed more than any Ferox while he’d been a guest on the Feroxian Plane.
So, what could he have seen or heard?
Of course, the shadow was dead. So why bother thinking about what was already lost? Well, anyone else would have thought that at least. Jonathan, however, knew better than most that whatever memories the shadow possessed at death, they were still inside that implant.
He wanted to let it go, but the notion wouldn’t let go of him.
Finally, one day, Jonathan crushed a portal stone, woke up inside that same tunnel as he always did, and asked Mr. Clean a question.
Seeing as how Heyer hadn’t been there to hear the answer, Jonathan asked it again now as they stood in the armory. “Mr. Clean, hypothetically, if one implanted a device into a man, and the previous owner had been the same man’s shadow, what would the outcome be?”
Mr. Clean’s answer took a moment’s consideration. “The device would, conceivably, behave in the same manner it does when a man returns from The Never.”
“Explain,” Jonathan said.
“Because the device itself is not programmed to see a distinction between a shadow and an original, the memories recorded by the shadow would be uploaded to the man’s mind,” Mr. Clean said.
Heyer’s eyes widened as he saw what Jonathan was getting at. “What would be the potential consequences?”
“As this has never been tested—I cannot give a definitive answer.”
“Educated guess, Mr. Clean,” Heyer said.
“I see three immediate possibilities. First, the man’s entire personality might be replaced with the shadow’s state of mind up to the point of death. Second, the man might experience the possession of two alternate sets of memories, most overlapping but some diverging at the point of the shadow’s creation. He may be able to integrate the divergence and see them as separate timelines. If not, this could lead to confusion or madness. Third, brain damage that could range from no apparent symptoms to being rendered permanently catatonic—possibly death.”
When Mr. Clean finished, Jonathan casually picked up the device from the pedestal again and held it out to Heyer. “Want to stare at this for a while?”
The alien looked down at his palm and sighed. “Perhaps, in this, we are both too close to it. An outsider with less bias might be best?”
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Did you have someone in mind?
“No,” Heyer said, his expression troubled as he stared at the implant. “And increasing the number of individuals who know too much about the chain of command is dangerous.”
“Well,” Jonathan said. “My usual go-to guys for this sort of thing are in the building.”
After several hours reviewing the details of the coming battle and Jonathan’s plan to address it, they were all grateful when the meeting came to an end.
Collin, paradoxically, felt angry at his own shadow. As if the man had knowingly left him with an unpaid bill. He’d come upon Hayden on the catwalks as he made his way back to their quarters. His friend was staring out over Hangman’s Tree—but he wasn’t really looking at anything.
“So, what’s bothering you?” Collin asked as he took a place beside him.
“It’s Jonathan,” Hayden said. “Well, no, it’s this plan. Actually, maybe it’s both.”
“If you have concerns you should say something.”
“That’s not . . . it’s not that I don’t think it will work, it’s just . . .”
Hayden trailed off for a moment, shaking his head before he continued. “I realize how this is going to sound.”
“It’s ugly, Hayden, or if we’re being kind, this plan is less than ethical,” Collin said.
Hayden breathed, but it was clear he’d been relieved he wasn’t the only one having that thought.
“Yeah,” Collin said. “I’ve flashed back to your diatribe about the Villain’s Journey in there more than a few times.”
“Do you think we should say something?” Hayden asked.
Collin shook his head. For a moment, Hayden was left looking at his friend with uncertainty.
“Come on Hayden, Jonathan . . . he knows. He’s being a realist—not a villain. The stakes are too high to risk failure.”
“The villain always says that,” Hayden noted. “It’s always an excuse to let the ends justify the means.”
Collin sighed. “It’s not our call. Jonathan has to think about everyone here—the whole world. If he fails, it’s . . . it’s not on us, it’s on him. So, maybe we don’t get to judge.”
“I know, I do . . . I just, I can’t shake this feeling,” Hayden said. “There’s got to be some other way.”
For a moment, silence fell between them.
“Hayden, have you considered the possibility that Jonathan is being the bad guy so that no one else has to?” Collin asked. “He knows you, Hayden, knew how you’d feel.”
“So, what, you think he expects me to tell him not to do this?” Hayden asked.
“Honestly, I think . . . he wants us to live, and he wants us to be able to sleep at night,” Collin said. “I think he wants to get as close as he can to a world where we can forget this ever happened.”
“I wish something would come to me,” Hayden said.
“Well . . .” Collin said. “When this Malkier guy gets here, you take him aside. Explain that he’s being a jerk. I’m sure he’ll turn his army right around.”
Hayden didn’t reply to that, just took a tired breath.
Collin put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, the other side has the bigger guns here. So, that makes us the underdogs.”
Hayden flinched, then did a double take as he tried to make Collin’s words fit into the discussion. “How is that a consolation?”
“Well . . . take Lex Luther. Now, ignore the psychosis behind his motives for a minute. There is a perfectly good reason he doesn’t resolve his differences with Superman by asking him to step outside for a fistfight. Lex knows it wouldn’t matter who was right or wrong, there is no winning that fight. But, he doesn’t know he’s the villain. He thinks he’s right, so if he has to fight Superman, he can be as underhanded as it takes to level the field.”
“So, in this analogy, Malkier is Superman and Jonathan is Lex Luther,” Hayden said. “Awesome.”
Collin seemed thoughtful for a moment.
“Want to hear something that helps me a bit?”
Hayden looked up and nodded.
“Do you remember the night this all started. When we asked Jonathan if he’d rather be Superman or Jesus?”
Hayden nodded. “Yeah . . . he said neither.”
Collin nodded. “If you had asked
me that question that night, I would have said Superman, and I’m fairly certain you’d have said Jesus.”
“Like Jesus, sure, not the Jesus,” Hayden said.
“Whatever, all I’m saying is that knowing what I know now,” Collin said. “I wouldn’t want to be either.”
“And . . .?”
Collin shrugged. “Jonathan knew that much before any of this happened.”
It was then that Mr. Clean manifested beside them. A small square oozed right out of the metal guardrail to form a display for his avatar. “Hello, I’ve been instructed to inform you that your presence is requested in the armory.”
Mr. Clean had manifested five chairs and arranged them inside the armory. His projection currently sat in one himself, and the rest were arranged in a half circle around the Alpha Slayer implant.
“So, can we talk about this door?” Collin asked, shooting a thumb over his shoulder where there was clearly another room at the back of the armory.
“It is not relevant to why we brought you here,” Heyer said.
“I know . . . no one has said anything of relevance in a while now,” Collin replied dryly.
Heyer looked at Jonathan, then sighed.
“It is where Mr. Clean stores power for the implants,” Heyer said. “What allows implants like Jonathan’s to be powered when they are not attached to a portal stone.”
“So, like a big battery?” Collin asked.
Heyer looked to Mr. Clean. “For the sake of getting back to the subject at hand, please show him.”
With a nod, the AI slid open the door. Inside was just enough room to stand. Any further and one encountered a wall of a red glowing energy. Basically, if a portal stone was enlarged to the size of an average bedroom, it would look like what was on the other side of the door.
The Never Army Page 39
