The Never Army

by Hodges, T. Ellery

  Jonathan sighed. “If he keeps his end of the bargain, then it doesn’t matter.”

  His arm came up again, and she thought he was going to offer a final handshake, but his palm revealed another small metal disc like the one she’d used to travel here. It reshaped itself into something that looked more like a small Bluetooth earpiece.

  “This will get you home, and you’ll be able to reach me directly,” he said. “If nothing else, I’ll be in contact when we know they’re coming.”

  She looked at the device like it was another bite from a meal that had already given her food poisoning, then picked it up and placed it in her ear. It fit as though it had been sculpted for her.

  “Alright then,” Olivia said.

  “Good luck, Olivia,” Jonathan said.

  He looked behind her, and saw that the General was discussing something privately with Leah while Dr. Watts was actively engaged in a conversation with Mr. Clean and clearly in no hurry to leave.

  “What’ll it be, Mags?” Jonathan asked. “Staying or going?”

  She didn’t have to think for long. “Ma’am, with your permission I’d like to see if I can be of any further assistance here. I’m also rather curious to see what else my—shadow’s—efforts have contributed.”

  Olivia looked to Rivers. “I suppose I can trust you to make sure Dr. Watts comes back to us in one piece?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rivers said.

  When Olivia and the General had departed, Jonathan approached Dr. Watts.

  “You know only my closest friends call me Mags,” she said.

  “Habit,” Jonathan said.

  She gave him a curious look. “This queue loop you spoke of, did you really spend so much time with my shadow that she asked you to call her Mags?”

  He nodded. “I spent more time in a lab under that facility talking to you than anyone else in The Cell. Which brings me to the real reason I needed you to stay.”

  “Should I be excited or nervous?” Watts asked.

  “Say your shadow’s work led to a discovery—a discovery that could very well be what decides our fate. You’d want to finish where she left off, wouldn’t you?”

  “Anyone who calls me Mags would know the answer to that question.”

  Jonathan smiled. “He would.”

  With a nod to follow, she fell into step beside him. He took her to the southwest side of Hangman’s Tree. To the rear of the section where Anthony’s Mechs were stored, they passed several large shipping pallets. Each were marked with various hazardous chemical signs. Though, as Dr. Watts caught the names of a few of the large totes and barrels, she knew most of the components weren’t particularly hazardous by themselves. If anything they were used in—

  “This way,” Jonathan said as he held open a door. She entered what could only be described as a fully equipped biology lab. Except, some of the equipment was clearly intended to manufacture far more of something than anyone could ever use in an experiment.

  “I have presented Mr. Clean with what you discovered. Turns out he already knew, of course, but—you’ll find that regardless of how much Mr. Clean might know, he isn’t always aware when it might be important to share. That is, until you ask the right question.

  “Once I told him what you’d discovered, and asked if it might achieve a particular result, he got to work on a prototype. I’d like you to complete the testing with him.”

  Dr. Watts looked about the laboratory. “You still haven’t told me what it was I discovered.”

  “It’s a bit of a story.”

  THE QUEUE LOOP | ACTIVATION THIRTEEN

  He’d just taken care of specimen thirteen. What he sent back through the gates was often more Ferox soup than Ferox. This had been his twelfth time explaining to Dr. Watts that once they had done all they could with a test subject, he had to send the body back in a way that both hid the work they were doing and at the same time sent Malkier a message.

  That message was a simple one: Something tore your people to shreds—and took a lot of pleasure doing so.

  He wanted Malkier to wonder about the mental state of whoever killed his people.

  He had just finished carrying the last bag full of specimen thirteen to the lab and as he dumped the contents onto a large sheet of plastic lining the floor, he glanced at Dr. Watts. He could tell she was on the brink. By this time, with the degradation having set in, most of The Cell was no longer useful to him.

  He’d been keeping an eye on her shadow for a while now. She tended to hold onto sanity longer than others. In fact, Jonathan was beginning to suspect that it had something to do with her work keeping her in such proximity to the portal stone itself.

  He had seen another shadow show incredible resilience to the degradation in his first queue—and this was the only similarity he could pinpoint in their circumstances.

  Regardless, Dr. Watts wasn’t immune. Eventually, she would snap. He generally wanted her as far away from the stone and any of her research notes before that happened. He finished emptying the bags of Ferox, and was just walking up behind her when she suddenly jumped back, her stool flying backward across the floor as she started cursing in panic.

  “Crap! Crap! Jonathan! Crap!” She said as she slammed the front window of the BSC shut and back pedaled as quickly as she could until she ran into him.

  “I . . . I didn’t think—it was just an idea. I didn’t think it would . . . attack me.”

  He looked past her into the BSC and saw what had her so startled. The portal stone was no longer held securely inside its vise. It was no longer a stone at all, but had taken on a liquid state. Until now, the only time Jonathan had seen that happen was after he crushed the stone in his hand.

  The glowing orange liquid now smeared itself across the window of the bio safety cabinet, seemed to be reaching out for her.

  “Get back,” Jonathan said, as he pushed her gently behind him.

  As he stepped closer, he realized the fluid wasn’t reaching for Dr. Watts. It certainly would have seemed like that was the case when he was coming up behind her, but now as he swayed back and forth in front of the window it followed him on the other side of the glass.

  “I swear, I’ve tried a thousand things, I didn’t really think this would work anymore than the rest.”

  “Mags, take a breath. Tell me what happened?”

  She took his advice. He watched as she forced herself to take some long calming breaths.

  “Squalene. I put a solution of concentrated squalene on it,” Dr. Watts said.

  “Mags, I know you haven’t heard it yet, but for me this is the twelfth time I’ve had to tell you that I barely got a C in biochem,” Jonathan said. “And that class was graded on a curve.”

  “It’s a component of human skin oil,” Dr. Watts said. “I didn’t think it was having any effect, then, suddenly it reached for me.”

  Absorbing this, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he stared at that liquid energy. Then his eyes went wide.

  “You said you didn’t think it was working?”

  “It shattered all of a sudden, I’d barely put any pressure on the scalpel.”

  “Right when I got close to you.”

  Dr. Watts nodded.

  How had it never occurred to him? The stone had only ever turned fragile when he held it in his bare hands. He’d assumed it was contact with the skin of an implanted man, he’d never considered its trigger was simpler than that—a chemical.

  He had to think for a moment, but even with the liquid in the BSC, he didn’t like the idea of leaving it in that state. Not when nearly the entire facility had given into the degradation.

  Jonathan closed his eyes. “I need you to get back, Mags. Actually, it would probably be best if you get all the way out of the lab and lock the door behind you.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Take care of it,” Jonathan said.

  Mags looked unsure, but she nodded and exited the lab. He was glad she hadn’t thought to ask q
uestions. The only way to take care of the stone was to absorb it.

  That meant the end of this reality.

  Obviously, he didn’t want her to spend those last few seconds with the existential dread of what came after he absorbed the stone.

  He lifted the window on the hood and lowered his hand to the eager glowing liquid. It came to him like a pet reunited with its owner. The moment it touched his skin it began to absorb, burning its way up his arm. He fell to the floor. The portal formed around him, the black and red sphere filling the lab.

  Then came the white flash.

  Mags and her dimension collapsing behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  NOV 12, 2005 | 9 PM | HANGMAN’S TREE

  “MY SHADOW FOUND a way to destabilize portal stones,” Dr. Watts said. She considered this for a while then frowned. “And that helps you somehow?”

  Jonathan nodded. “You, me, and Mr. Clean are the only ones who know about this. That will change when the time is right, until then, I need your word that this stays between us.”

  She shrugged. “Alright. But I don’t understand what you want me to . . .”

  Dr. Watts paused; she took a second look around the lab, specifically at what equipment the space had on hand. Then she considered the list of chemical components she’d noticed on the way in, and her head tilted back to him with sudden understanding. “Ohhh . . . I see. It would have to be airborne, and you’d need a ton of it. But even if it’s possible, how are you going to trigger the—”

  “Leave that part to me, Mags,” Jonathan said.

  Somewhat reluctantly, she nodded. “I’ll . . . um . . . I’ll need at least two of your prisoners. More would be better if you can get them.”

  “They’re all for you,” he said.

  The next morning Leah sat alone. It was early and as per usual the dining area was near empty. Her breakfast sat finished in front of her as she read from the tablet that Mr. Clean had provided. Someone pulled out a chair across from her at the table. Surprised anyone who saw her hadn’t decided to sit on the opposite side of the room, she looked up and saw Colonel Hamill take a seat across from her.

  “Leah is it?” he asked, politely pretending that everyone didn’t know who she was.

  “Yeah . . .” she said. She frowned and gave the empty dining hall a not so subtle look, clearly taking note of all the other empty tables he could have taken a seat at.

  “May I share your table for a moment?” he asked.

  “I’d prefer to be alone,” she said.

  He didn’t seem to have expected hostility, and getting it, his lips pinched sourly. He nodded knowingly. “I only wanted to ask you something. I’ll leave you to your own company as soon as I have.”

  Instead of answering, Leah sighed and began to get up from the table.

  “Why did she forgive you?” the Colonel whispered.

  Even though he’d spoken softly, it was as though he’d blurted the question out before she could leave.

  She slowed, eyes narrowing on him.

  “Everyone knows what you did,” he said. “But my daughter, I’ve seen her warm to you. She doesn’t avoid you anymore. Doesn’t look disgusted whenever you enter the room.”

  Seeing how much the Colonel had been paying attention, Leah almost gave him a warning to mind his own business and stop spying on her. Luckily, she heard the words in her head before saying them. She would make a fool of herself trying to deliver that sermon.

  “I’ve tried for years and I can’t even get her to take my phone calls,” the Colonel said.

  Leah shook her head, looking back at him incredulously. “We aren’t the same.”

  “You betrayed her,” he said.

  “Yeah, I did. And I did it for family,” Leah said. “She doesn’t like it, but she does understand it. What did you betray her for?”

  “I . . . I just . . . I didn’t believe her,” the Colonel said.

  “And somewhere along the way, you realized you made a mistake?” Leah asked.

  He nodded, a look of deep shame on his face as he did so.

  “Did you ever try to fix it?” Leah asked. “Or do you just keep hoping she’ll forgive you?”

  “The man she accused . . .” The Colonel closed his eyes. “He was brought up on charges a few years later . . . it didn’t seem like disclosing my . . . poor judgment would help anything.”

  He looked at the table in shame.

  She began to walk away again, and he asked her, “So what do I do now?”

  “Nothing,” Leah said. “You had years, and now, there isn’t anything you can do that means anything. I can’t help. Now, I don’t want to be seen with you. I hope the irony of that isn’t lost on you.”

  She left, leaving him staring into his tray. She wandered for a while, unable to refocus her mind on Rylee’s journals after the exchange had left her in such a bad mood. She found herself alone, sitting in her bunk instead of returning to work with Joao.

  “Mr. Clean,” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is there any strategic reason that Colonel Hamill needs to remain in Hangman’s Tree?”

  “He is a wanted man. His actions in assisting Paige made Jonathan fear he might require asylum after he escaped The Cell.”

  “Can’t we find him asylum elsewhere?”

  “Heyer or Jonathan would have to approve,” the AI said.

  She sighed. She didn’t really want to bother Jonathan or Heyer with this. Course, no one had seen Heyer in over a week and when anyone asked about it at the war council, Jonathan had said he was away on a strategic assignment of which no one else needed to know.

  “Is there really no other way, Jonathan—he’d understand, but it’s not my place to explain.”

  “Well, if you don’t see this matter as something that needs addressing immediately, then you should know that once you’re implanted, I would take the command from you,” the AI said.

  Leah frowned, her mouth momentarily moving like a goldfish before she digested this bit of information.

  “Are you saying that once implanted I would be high enough in the hierarchy to give you commands?”

  “That is correct,” he said.

  She remembered how guarded both Jonathan and Heyer had been about the chain of command. And suddenly, it occurred to her why it had to be kept a secret.

  “Where would I be in the chain exactly?” Leah asked.

  “You would be on par with Jonathan, but I would still defer to his commands in the event of a difference of opinion,” the AI said.

  Leah nodded, her mind suddenly connecting a few dots. “. . . And below me, what is the order of the chain?”

  “I am not permitted to answer that question before you are implanted either,” the AI replied.

  You just did, Leah thought.

  It all suddenly fit too well. Why Jonathan and Heyer had always been so troubled by the choice of putting an implant into Grant Morgan. Sure, they had plenty of good reasons just on account of the man’s history, but what if the Chain of Command was somehow tied to the strength of the implant owner? Then the Alpha Slayer would likely have been second in command. Fourth only when the bonded pair was active. So, if any of them were to die, Grant would move up the chain.

  No wonder neither Jonathan nor Heyer would speak of it. Just suspecting it, she didn’t dare say it out loud. But, if she was right, it begged the question. That day in the armory, when Jonathan said he had a means to mitigate the risk of Grant. What exactly could he have meant by that?

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  DATE | TIME: UNKNOWN | FEROXIAN PLANE

  THE PROPHET WAS not to be disturbed until he directed otherwise. Malkier’s patience was beyond frayed as his tired eyes scanned two dimensional images flashing past on the screen overhead. Finally, one of the images grabbed his attention. He sat up with a start.

  “Stop,” Malkier said. “Go back.”

  Cede executed the command, the most recent images flashing past on the sc
reen. They all had one thing in common, the pictures came from a library of modern human civilization.

  “That one,” Malkier said. “What is it?”

  The structure was comprised of several metal towers. To Malkier they all appeared connected by a series of black lines or ropes.

  “The image is of a primitive power hub. Humans place these structures throughout their cities to route electricity.”

  “Electricity,” Malkier said the words with an indignant scoff. Such a power source was so ancient to his ancestors that, though he understood its use on a basic level, he’d have been hard-pressed to remember what point in history the Borealis had rendered it obsolete. So long ago it was like asking a human when their species had stopped hunting and gathering in exchange for growing their own food.

  “Can you replicate this power source?” Malkier asked.

  “That will not be a challenge, sir,” Cede replied.

  Malkier was quiet for a long moment, steeling himself for what had to come next.

  “Seal the room,” Malkier said. “Make sure I am unable to leave.”

  “Sir?” Cede asked.

  “You will expose me to as much electricity as one of these hubs is capable,” Malkier said. “I must know.”

  “Again.”

  A bolt of lightning shot from the walls within Cede and struck Malkier in the chest. It tickled a bit each time, but for the most part he was unfazed. The harsh white light that filled the chamber each time was the greater discomfort. When he opened his eyes, he watched with declining fascination in how the threads of electricity arced up the spaces between his fingers and dissipated.

  Nothing more ever came of it—exactly as had been the case after all the preceding tests. Yet, Malkier was certain he was on the brink of discovering his own vulnerability.

  It was that explosion of light. On the night of Echoes the Borealis’ death he hadn’t seen what had caused that flash—hadn’t even known if it was real—but now he was quite convinced that roof they had been standing on had become so bright he’d been forced to shut his eyes. This was the last thing he remembered before he found himself bleeding, back on the Feroxian Plane.