The Never Army

by Hodges, T. Ellery

  Jonathan paused to take a long breath. “If they hadn’t happened—there would be no hope right now.”

  Hayden shrugged. “I get the idea that something that seems bad now might turn out to be good later.”

  “We have a chance to stop the enslavement of the entire human race because of an unforeseen series of glitches and tragedies. Sometimes . . . the fact that all those hardships and unforeseeable consequences have come together to give us this chance. . . I have trouble not seeing something—more—at play in it.”

  Hayden’s eyes rose. His whole being awakening with focus on what Jonathan was telling him.

  “Look, I don’t know about God, or whose religion is right, or if it matters,” Jonathan said. “What I know is that my father discovered the weakness of mankind’s worst nightmare a second before he died because lightning struck at the right moment.

  “When it looked like time sided against the entire human race, The Cell took me prisoner and put me in a containment field that screwed with Borealis technology so badly that I ended up with more time to think than I knew what to do with.

  “There are just so many other things, Hayden. Now, you can say that there were factors, and they all came together at the right moment. That things followed their natural course. You wouldn’t be wrong . . . on the other hand, it isn’t that hard a stretch to believe that something out there gave a push. Put its hands on our side of the scale at some opportune moments.”

  Hayden nodded, for a moment his spirits seemed lifted. However, this was short lived.

  “But it’s all culminating in something horrible. This chance we have, in the end it boils down to the extinction of another species. I get that we don’t have any other choice, but it’s hard to ignore that they’re attacking us because their survival depends on it,” Hayden said.

  Jonathan was quiet for a long while. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. “If I’ve learned anything, then before this ends, something will go so wrong that the consequences will be something none of us predicted.”

  Hayden did smile at that.

  No more words of weight were exchanged between them. Hayden wished Jonathan a good evening. Jonathan watched his roommate leave, but there was a change in Hayden’s behavior.

  Now, none of this is what I meant when I said that humans leave things unsaid. But, the context was required as it was the exchange that followed that left me at a loss. Collin had noticed Hayden’s behavioral change in the meeting as well. He too had followed his friend to see if he might offer some assistance. However, finding Jonathan had beat him to it, he had waited and inadvertently eavesdropped on the conversation. Shortly after Hayden left, Collin took his place.

  He stood beside Jonathan, arms crossed over his chest in thought. Jonathan didn’t do anything noteworthy to acknowledge him, but as humans are apt to do, it was clear to both that the other’s presence meant some new conversation was about to play out.

  “Couldn’t help but overhear,” Collin said. It was one of those lies so obvious Jonathan didn’t need to correct him. Rather, Jonathan seemed to be waiting for something he already knew was coming.

  “I don’t get why you did that,” Collin said. “I mean, it’s just my gut, but you don’t really believe any of it.”

  I must insert myself into this here. I found I had to concur with Collin’s assessment of Jonathan’s behavior as I too wondered at the motivation behind his actions. In my observations of Jonathan Tibbs, he’d never shown an interest in engaging in the sort of mystic contemplation that he had just displayed with Hayden.

  “Hayden isn’t the sort whose faith gets weaponized,” Jonathan said. “He doesn’t take it upon himself to judge people. He just wants to be able to believe. He wants to do it with good humor, without ignoring reality, and without hurting anyone.”

  “I know,” Collin said. “The two of us couldn’t be friends otherwise. But, is it harmless to lie to him?”

  “I didn’t lie,” Jonathan said.

  “Fine, you purposely led him to consider something you don’t believe yourself,” Collin said.

  To this, he took a very long breath and an even longer time exhaling. I was unsure if I should interpret this behavior as buying time to articulate his thoughts or to express a greater annoyance with Collin’s questions. Though I suppose one doesn’t preclude the other.

  Yet this is the interesting part. Jonathan’s attention was drawn upward, and at that moment, Heyer walked past on the catwalk over them.

  “It’s a comforting thing, to believe there is someone older and wiser with a plan.” Jonathan said.

  Collin followed Jonathan’s gaze as Heyer retreated from view.

  This is where I find the whole series of events so frustrating. Jonathan smiled but nothing about the look seemed to confer that he found anything particularly humorous. He opened his mouth, looked once more at Collin, as though he were about to say something more, but simply said, “Good night, Collin,” before turning to walk away.

  Collin watched him go. It seemed like he had gotten some answer to his question from this exchange. I, on the contrary, find the whole matter completely unresolved.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  TAMWORTH’S HEAVY FOOTSTEPS on the catwalks pulled Heyer from his quiet contemplation of the activity below. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t heard the man approaching long before he was close.

  In fact, he’d heard a second set of footsteps as well, but those belonged to someone with far stealthier movements who had been slowly drawing closer for some time now. Someone who was observing him from the shadows just as he watched over the entirety of Hangman’s Tree.

  Tamsworth—Tam, on the other hand, was there to be noticed. He came to stand alongside Heyer and immediately folded his arms over his chest. “Your boy ain’t much to look at.”

  “My boy?” Heyer asked. “Jonathan?”

  “Who else would I be talking about.”

  A knowing smile touched the edge of Heyer’s lips. “Is something on your mind, Tam?”

  The big Aussie took a long breath. “Well, obviously.”

  He’d known Tam long enough to learn it was best to make the man articulate his thoughts. Occasionally, once Tam heard his own words out loud, no further discussion was necessary. “I am listening.”

  “I got underwear that’s seen more shit than that kid,” Tam said.

  “Colorful imagery,” Heyer said. “I gather you are reticent about being led by someone younger than yourself?”

  “Well—yeah—well no, it ain’t just his age,” Tam said. “But, come on, we got guys under this roof with more experience in these matters.”

  “You mean more experience fighting in human wars?” Heyer asked.

  “War’s war,” Tam said. “Who you’re fighting don’t change it.”

  Heyer was quiet a moment. “And you are not alone in this opinion?”

  “Course I ain’t,” Tam said.

  “How many?”

  “A lot.”

  “Tamsworth,” Heyer said. “How many have actually expressed these concerns?”

  Tam shrugged, but he didn’t hide his discomfort well. “Ain’t been takin’ a damn survey. Just a feeling I get.”

  “Beo, Perth, Mito, the rest of the team who facilitated our escape, have they expressed similar concerns?

  “Nah . . . they ain’t said anything,” Tam said. “But, some of these guys think Tibbs walks on water jus’ cause you put him in charge.”

  “Yet, you remain unconvinced,” Heyer said.

  “Well, we wouldn’t be having this discussion otherwise,” Tam said.

  Heyer let that sentence hang for a moment before he spoke again. “Jonathan’s plan was successful against The Cell was it not? The way I have heard it, all goals were achieved and not a single life was lost.”

  “That don’t mean shit,” Tam said. “Any moron with The Never on their side ain’t gonna screw up an operation.”

  Heyer nodded. “That is a fair point.”r />
  A long silence followed; Heyer could tell that of the two of them, he was far more comfortable in the lingering quiet.

  “You ain’t gonna say nothing else?”

  Heyer smiled. “I am sorry, did you ask a question?”

  Tam, momentarily flustered, pinched his lips into a line. “I want an explanation for that kid. Why the hell ain’t you leading us your damn self?”

  Heyer took a long breath and smiled patiently. “You will find it hard to accept, but Jonathan has more experience fighting our enemy than any man alive.”

  Tam looked down to the ground floor where Jonathan was listening to a report. He stared, unable to look past the man’s youth and make it align with Heyer’s claim.

  “Heyer? I ain’t tryin to call ya a liar, but I ain’t stupid,” Tam said. “Word is he’s only had that implant for a few months. I’ve had mine for nearly two years.”

  Heyer sighed; Tam may not have been the most eloquent, but whether the man knew it or not he was circling a question Heyer didn’t want to answer. That he didn’t feel it was his place to answer.

  “Plus, how would you know how good he is in a fight? Ya ain’t never actually seen any of us take a real Ferox. All ya can say for certain is Jonathan ain’t died since you put that device in him.”

  Tam was wrong. Heyer had seen Jonathan fight a foe far more dangerous than any Ferox quite recently. But, saying so would only lead to more questions.

  “Tam, some explanations are not wise to give,” Heyer said, but he turned to look him in the eye and put a hand on the Aussie’s massive shoulder. “But, for argument’s sake, your concerns are justified, and perhaps others who are less vocal share them. Since I am asking you to trust my judgment when the stakes are at their highest, perhaps a demonstration is in order.”

  Tam’s expression tweaked with curiosity as he considered. “What you have in mind?”

  “Well, I have some reservations of a . . . different sort,” Heyer said. “Reservations that a demonstration could put to rest along with your own. So, perhaps you would like to help me arrange the appropriate circumstances for us all to allay some concerns.”

  Tam raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  She stayed hidden as he spoke to Tam. When the man finally took his leave, Heyer heard her moving closer again. She trod lightly on the metal catwalk and kept to the dark. Finally, though, he caught a glimpse of her face at the edge of a shadow. There was familiarity to all of it, reminding Heyer of Jonathan’s first time approaching him of his own free will. She was ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Yet the need for answers inched her closer.

  He waited until he knew she would hear him. “For the sake of honesty, I know you’re there.”

  She stiffened when his eyes caught her, but after some indecision, she stepped out into the light.

  “So, they call you Heyer,” Leah said.

  He shrugged. “It is my name.”

  He put his hands into his coat pockets and leaned back against the catwalk’s railing. “I am told you prefer Leah.”

  She took another step forward. “It is my . . . middle name.”

  Since Mr. Clean confirmed her identity, Heyer hadn’t been alone with her. He’d seen her of course, but he hadn’t—really—looked. She’d undergone a great deal of plastic surgery, but now, as she stood in front of him, Heyer felt a fool for having failed to recognize her.

  “You’ve changed yourself,” Heyer said. “But your voice, your eyes, are the same.”

  She took another step forward but didn’t speak.

  “When I thought you’d taken your own life, I grieved,” Heyer said. “There aren’t many times I’ve been relieved to find I was deceived.”

  Leah’s eyes narrowed as though his words were tricks.

  Heyer looked down at the grating. “After your brother, I feared what you may have believed me to be.”

  “Do you always make this little sense? Tell strangers that you grieved for them?”

  He pondered her before choosing his next words. “What has Jonathan told you about me?”

  “No one talks to me about you,” Leah said. “That’s okay though, I didn’t hunt you for two years to get your excuses secondhand.”

  Heyer grimaced sadly. “It is ironic. Had you done nothing, I would have found you. You would already have your answers.”

  She did little to hide her anger at the statement. “That has occurred to me.”

  Heyer turned to place his hands on the guardrail. He peered down at Jonathan as he had for some time now, then took a long breath. “Well, we are here now. Ask what you wish, but you seem to already know the answers are not what you hoped.”

  A tense silence passed before he heard her footsteps drawing nearer. She came to stand beside him at the rail. She didn’t look at him though, she came to stare as he did down at Jonathan. “Why have you been watching him all morning?”

  Heyer frowned at her. “An open invitation for days. You could have come to speak to me at any moment. Now, you stall. Seems you were quite relentless in pursuit of your prey but not so certain of what you intended to do when you caught it.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. There was a reluctance in her that drew out longer than she’d have liked. “It is not like that. The things I would have said to you... they don’t . . .”

  She trailed for a moment. “Nothing is what I imagined.”

  He nodded, and it wasn’t without sympathy.

  “Just tell me why you’re watching him.”

  “I am watching him because I have yet to find the courage to ask him who he really is.”

  Leah’s eyes wandered off Jonathan to the alien. As though what he said triggered something more in her than he’d expected. Seeing that look on her face, Heyer asked, “You have noticed as well then?”

  “He’s been different since Rylee,” Leah said. “But he isn’t performing. He is different in ways a man can’t just wake up and choose. Ways that grief can’t explain.”

  Heyer nodded. “That is impressive; Rylee’s disappearance would have been the first moment anyone on Earth could have noticed the change.”

  “What change?” Leah asked.

  Heyer stopped leaning and stood straighter over the railing; there was guilt on his expression. “I do not know why I cannot just be grateful he has not gone mad. His mind, it seems capable of adapting to more abuse than I would have thought any human capable. There was a time Jonathan was resistant to a fault, but now . . . he changes to become whatever the world needs him to be.”

  “You’re not making much sense,” Leah said. “I can’t tell if you’re doing it on purpose.”

  “I would be lying if I did not tell you that this is a matter I hardly understand myself. If you were anyone else, I would not discuss it.”

  As though his ears were on fire, Jonathan seemed to pick that moment to look up and see the two of them looking down on him.

  The alien swallowed. “But, eventually, you will need to know.”

  Leah turned to the alien. “I will need to know? Me? Where does that begin to make sense?”

  “We will get to that in good time,” he said.

  Despite the frown she gave him, he clearly had every intention of leaving her question hanging unanswered for the moment. He nodded his head back to Jonathan. “He is mostly Jonathan, not all. The man who possessed Jonathan’s implant before him, he . . .”

  The alien trailed off for a moment as if he were reconsidering his words.

  “. . . was complicated. But he was also the man I had wanted to lead this war. When I gave the implant to Jonathan, I tried to make it possible for him to access the man’s memories. There was one specific memory I hoped Jonathan would be able to recover, but . . .”

  Heyer shook his head. “Somehow, Jonathan has integrated with the previous owner’s mind. I never could have imagined that was possible, and I do not know the extent of it. I do not even know if he did it by choice. I know he is aware of what has happe
ned, but I do not know if even he understands the extent.”

  A grim look fell over her. “So, that’s it. Half of who he is, is a stranger to him?”

  Heyer shook his head. “Not a stranger. The previous owner was his father.”

  Leah turned slowly, wide-eyed, as she looked at the alien. Her mouth opened but whatever she’d thought to say evaporated. Eventually, she managed to blink.

  After some time, Leah finally asked the question she’d come for. Well—it was a revised version of the question, but nonetheless . . .

  “It’s my understanding,” Leah began. “That some people you’ve involved are drafted. Others, volunteer.”

  Heyer nodded. “If I can give a choice, I do. But sometimes, an individual is too important, and no one can rightly take their place.”

  “Which one was Peter?” she asked.

  Seeing that she was done stalling, Heyer took his hands off the railing and looked her in the eyes. “Your brother volunteered. However, for the sake of being completely forthright, had he not done so, he would have learned I was not there to give him a choice.”

  Leah turned back to the rail. She sat with that statement for quite some time.

  “Rylee kept a journal. When she’d write about you, I didn’t understand the nature of your relationship. Now, I get it. She was one that you forced.”

  The alien’s eyes darkened sadly. “A mistake. In truth, it was the last time I ever gave the pretense of a choice. I gave her the chance to volunteer. She declined. Well, as you can imagine, she said it far more colorfully than a simple no, but nonetheless . . . I should never have let her think it was a choice. It turned her against me in ways that honesty might have salvaged. I never asked a candidate to volunteer again unless the choice was honest.”

  “So, she was before Jonathan,” Leah said. “You never even offered him the illusion of a choice?”

  The alien only nodded.

  Silence crept over them again. “What makes them so important? Peter, Rylee, Jonathan, the ones who don’t get to volunteer,” Leah said. “What does it mean that two of them are dead?”