Shadow Ops: Control Point

by Myke Cole

Britton could certainly understand Swift’s anger, but he didn’t like him directing it at Therese. “Andrew, huh?” he asked. Swift grimaced at the sound, and though Britton felt foolish for taking pleasure in it, he was pleased to see Swift’s surly veneer momentarily crack. “That’s a nice name.”

  “Fuck you,” Swift growled. “If you and your teenaged girlfriend here are happy being lapdogs for the SOC, that’s your call, but you’re not going to get any slack from me.”

  “Who the hell said I’m happy working for them?” Britton stopped walking and put his hands on his hips.

  “You’re wearing the uniform,” Swift put in.

  Britton gaped in silence before mustering a response. “As if I had a fucking choice!”

  Swift stepped forward, his expression utterly submerged in smoking rage. “You always have a choice. If they didn’t drag you in here, kicking and screaming, then you’re fucking cooperating.”

  “Easy,” Pyre said, put off by his friend’s rage. “Salamander’s watching.”

  “Seriously,” Tsunami added. “Calm the fuck down, dude.”

  “Don’t waste your time,” Therese said to Britton. “He’s totally sold on the futility angle. The only thing to do now is pray for him.”

  “Listen you little…” Swift began to walk around Britton, reaching for Therese. Britton stepped sideways to intercept him. Swift’s eyes flickered to him momentarily, seeing him only as an obstacle. Britton read the anger there and knew the man was not in control. That was fine; out of control meant no real threat. Britton’s anger was cold and disciplined. Skill beat will, every time. Pyre backpedaled as Swift punched at Britton, but Britton was ready and dodged. Swift reversed his hand midstrike, nails raking across his Britton’s cheek before Major Salamander drove in between them, pinning Swift’s arms behind him and dragging him backward. The No-No Crew surged to Swift’s defense, then retreated just as quickly as the soldiers advanced, carbines leveled. Though Pyre had tried to stay out of the fight, he was rounded up with the rest, hands raised. Only Wavesign, who had been on the other side of Therese, was left unmolested.

  “Now, that’s not very welcoming to our new friends, is it?” Salamander said. “And I guess you need some time in the hole to teach you manners.”

  “Come on, man!” Swift shouted. “I didn’t even hurt him! It was just a little scuffle. You don’t need to put me in there with her!”

  “What’s wrong?” Salamander asked, dragging Swift backward. “She’s Suppressed, and I thought you were all on the same side.”

  Swift struggled briefly in Salamander’s grip before relaxing. “You know what she’s like. Please.”

  Salamander pushed Swift toward a pair of soldiers who had approached as the fight broke out. “Sorry, no sale. Maybe some quality time with the fair lady will cure you of your bullshit. Enjoy.”

  Swift’s eyes returned to Britton’s. Britton took a step backward, checked by the depth of the senseless, animal hate that smoldered there.

  A pair of burly soldiers took custody of Swift and began walking him slowly toward the pillbox. Britton felt wetness trickling down his cheek and raised his hand to dab at the wounds, which had begun to smart as the shock of the exchange faded.

  “You’re bleeding,” Downer said.

  “You are,” said Therese, reaching out a hand and cupping his cheek. Where Swift’s eyes had held unmitigated hatred, Therese’s were pools of concern. “You have to forgive him,” she said. “Nobody knows exactly what happened to him, but some say the SOC killed his girlfriend bringing him in.”

  “I heard his wife,” Pyre added. “He doesn’t talk about it. Nice going.” He glared at Britton.

  But Britton ignored him, overcome by the kind words. Careful, that damned farmer said nice things to you, too. Then he shot you. But Britton was momentarily swamped by Therese’s beauty, the touch of her hand on his cheek. Without thinking, he raised his own hand to hers. Warmth flooded his face, the same tingling he’d felt in his chest when he’d lain in the Humvee with the hood over his head. The pain of the scratches vanished, and he could feel the skin on his cheek knitting underneath her touch.

  “You’re a Healer,” he said.

  “A Healer using her magic in unauthorized conditions.” Salamander stepped forward. “Come on, Therese, you know better. That’s a point for you.”

  “Suppress me,” Therese said. “Throw me in the hole with Scylla. I don’t care.”

  Salamander raised a hand, but Therese’s work was done. She stepped away from Britton, leaving him rubbing his smooth cheek and longing for the warmth of her hand again.

  Salamander shook his head and motioned them starkly toward the open ground, where most of the SASS enrollees were lining up in front of a female SOC captain, her long black hair in a businesslike bun on the back of her head. Five SOC Suppressors milled loosely behind her, submachine guns slung across their chests.

  Behind them, Britton could hear the steel door in the cinder-block bunkhouse slam shut behind Swift. He thought he heard a woman’s voice, dark and sonorous, welcoming him. Something in its syrupy tones made him shiver.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Britton said to Salamander. “It was just a scratch.”

  “It’s for his own good,” Salamander said. “Swift’s got a history here, Novice. Escape attempts, violence against guards and fellow SASS enrollees. If we don’t break that spirit of his, command might decide he’s not worth the trouble.”

  “And then what?” Britton asked. “Would they kill him?”

  Salamander frowned. “It won’t come to that. They always cooperate in the end.”

  Britton thought of Billy, his head covered in electrical leads, his mother crooning in his ear. Had he always been like that? Had the SOC made him that way? Harlequin’s words came floating back to him…just like you will be if you don’t do as you’re told. Britton shuddered.

  “What’s going to happen to him in there?” Britton asked, motioning to the pillbox.

  Salamander motioned Britton to get into position with the rest of the group. “You ask a lot of questions, Novice, and I’ve been very patient with you thus far. Swift is being rehabilitated. Now, my patience is beginning to wear thin, and you need to stop talking and start listening.

  “All right, listen up!” Salamander bellowed to everyone. “It’s been an interesting morning that’s put me out of the mood in which I patiently tolerate your bullshit. This is your morning magical-control class. Some of you have some notion of control. The rest of you are only prevented from having dangerous magical discharges by virtue of the Dampener running in your veins. We’re going to fix that issue. Dampener and the regimented nature of SOC training will impair the raw emotional outpouring and check your power. But it has been the SOC’s experience that cold discipline is ever the master of wild emotion. It is our mantra, and one you will take to heart—‘safe and controlled.’ Selfers may make great displays of powerful magic, but the reason they cannot stand against us is because they don’t know the meaning of those two words. It is the same reason why the Goblins lack the ability to truly affect this outpost. Given the choice between power and control, a SOC Sorcerer chooses control. Remember, skill beats will, every time.”

  Britton thought of the last time he’d heard those words, hovering in a Kiowa beside a burning school.

  “We’re going to talk about the two fundamentals of safe, controlled magic use. These are Drawing and Binding. Before we talk about these, I want to reiterate what I just said. Safe and controlled, remember it, learn it, live it. First question, how do we stay safe and controlled?”

  There was a pause as he waited for an answer from the audience.

  “Anybody?” goaded Salamander, starting to smile. He turned to the female SOC captain beside him. “Captain Stormspinner?”

  “Come on, people,” growled Stormspinner, her voice deep and mannish. She crossed her arms impatiently. “In case you didn’t notice, that’s a giant fucking fence all around you. It’s not
like you can go anywhere. We own you for the nonce, and the only way out of here is attached to that flagpole. Demonstrating control of your magical abilities is the first step to making it there.”

  Finally, one of the Novices shot his hand up. “By obeying orders?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” Stormspinner said. “You have to stick to the rules. They may seem constraining at first. Magic is a wild and tempting thing, but it can only be manipulated to effective use under safe and controlled conditions. The rules have been laid down by more experienced soldiers who have gone before you. Respect them and respect this power you are lucky enough to possess. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “An overachiever, but I like your enthusiasm. Good. All right, here we go. Drawing and Binding. There are two things that every sorcerer must be able to do to manipulate magic. The first is to Draw it.

  “Magic is little more than an elemental force here in the Source. I’d say it’s like air over here, but the truth is that nobody knows what it is. You may notice that magic is much stronger in the Source than it is back in the Home Plane. Keep that in mind as you work with it. When you are going to work magic, you first have to gather the fuel for it. You have to Draw the fuel supply from the magical current around you. Everybody with me?”

  “Okay, good,” Salamander took over. “Drawing from your current is easier than you think. Remember, you all Drew from it either knowingly or accidentally when you first Manifested. I’d bet a lot of you already know how to Draw. After we’ve discussed this, we’re going to teach you some meditative exercises to help you learn how to Draw at will, but as you get better, you’ll find you can do it without even thinking. For most of you, it’ll be that easy by the time you go back to the schoolhouse to do your studying.”

  He turned to Stormspinner. “Captain, would you mind demonstrating?”

  There was no look of concentration, no mumbling of incantations. She merely extended her hand, and a bright, blue ball of ice hovered in her open palm.

  “Now, this isn’t Drawing alone,” Stormspinner said. “I have to Bind the magic to make it visible. There isn’t a way to make the Drawing process itself visible, but what you’re looking at is Hydromancy at its rawest. This is the material that I use to build a spell.”

  With that, she tossed the ball up in the air. It came down as a quantity of water, splashing a few of the Novices, who laughed and covered their heads.

  She smiled. “Now that was a spell.”

  “Okay, settle down people,” Salamander called to the some of the enrollees who were laughing and flicking water at one another. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.

  “Here’s where your first safety tip comes in. When you Draw from the Source, you’re offering your being up as a magnet to pull it out. It’s like fishing, and the bait is you.

  “Raw magic is extremely powerful. If you aren’t safe and controlled, and by this I mean knowing how to cut off the flow and how to Bind the magic safely away from you, you risk becoming what’s called ‘a magic sink.’ Magical energy is like water; as soon as it spots an opening, it puts its full weight behind flowing through it. You are that opening. If you’re not careful, the weight of the current can overwhelm you. Believe me when I tell you that you don’t want that. The Dampener should suffice in this case, but if one of you should begin to go nova, we’ve got plenty of Suppressors here to take the edge off.”

  Major Salamander gestured to the body of enrollees. “Our usual practice is to have the more experienced Novices assist their newer peers with their training.” Both he and Stormspinner began to gesture to members of the crowd, who stepped forward to talk to their counterparts. Therese stood forward and faced Britton and Downer. “I’m still fairly new, but I’ve got the basics pretty well down.” Downer smiled shyly at the pretty older woman, and Britton nodded thanks.

  The No-No Crew stepped backward, folding their arms across their chests. Wavesign went to join them, but Therese grabbed his upper arm, ignoring how it soaked her to the elbow. “Come on, Ted, you need the training.”

  “Not him,” Salamander said, pointing to Britton. He pointed to a small square of four blast barricades twenty yards across the muddy expanse, far away from the rest of group. “He sits in there.”

  “Why?” Therese asked.

  Salamander paused, stunned. “Young lady, did I not just tell you that I am no longer in the mood for your bullshit right now?”

  Therese was unfazed, but Britton answered. “Because I’m a Portamancer. The gates can open up anywhere, including in the middle of this crowd.” He turned to Salamander. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think those T-walls are going to help. I’ve seen my gates slice a car and a tractor in half. I don’t think the concrete will make much difference.”

  Salamander sighed. “I appreciate your respectful tones, Novice, but you are rapidly becoming a fucking burr under my saddle. Now get your ass in the middle of those barricades and await instruction.”

  Therese moved to follow. “What the hell are you doing?” Salamander called after her.

  “I’m helping,” she replied. “If those barriers can protect us, then I’ll be fine. He needs somebody to talk him through the beginning part, and he’ll do better if it’s someone nice to him.”

  “Damn it, Therese!” Salamander called after her.

  “Throw me in the hole!” she answered. “Throw us all in the hole. Or you can shoot me.”

  Salamander cursed and turned his back on them, saying something to Downer and Wavesign, as Therese and Britton walked off.

  “That was brave of you. Thanks,” Britton said to her.

  “It’s no big deal,” she said. “Salamander’s a sweetheart, actually. He’s probably the one guy in this whole nasty organization who actually wants to help Latent people. He puts on a show to keep things under control, but in the end, he’s on your side.”

  “Therese, he wasn’t kidding. The gates can open anywhere, and they cut through anything.”

  She nodded. “I trust you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You seem like a good sort. Maybe it’s because you stand up to both Swift and Salamander. Maybe it’s because you tried to protect me back there. Maybe it’s because God tells me so. I’m just going with my gut.”

  “Call me Oscar.”

  She smiled. “I’m Therese.”

  He stepped through the space between the barricades into an enclosed patch of mud roughly five feet square. “What about Swift and the No-No Crew? What does God tell you about them?”

  He saw her shrug through the gap between the barriers. “They’re all good, Oscar. Swift’s just trying to cope with his loss, I guess. Pyre’s just a kid. He follows along. The anger is just so…useless is all. I know it’s a bad situation, and I know that none of us want to be here, but…fighting everything, everybody, all the time. Swift isn’t happy just taking his own stand; he wants everyone else to take it with him. The guy’s the definition of bad influence.”

  Britton nodded as Therese moved out of his field of vision. “I can understand where he’s coming from. I was already in the army, and they didn’t give me a chance once I came up Latent.”

  “Well, here’s your second chance,” Therese said. “If you believe Salamander.”

  Britton didn’t answer, unsure if he did or didn’t. You promised yourself you’d find a way out of here. A couple of kind words, and you’re going to forget that?

  “You ready to get started? Can you hear me okay?” she called from the other side of the barricade.

  “Let’s do this.”

  “Have you ever Drawn magic before…?” Therese asked

  Britton thought for a moment. “It comes from feelings…emotions. I know it responded to stress when I ran. It picks up when I’m angry or sad.”

  “That’s right. Your emotions are the motor, but your brain is the steering wheel.”

  “So how do we steer?”

  “You just do,”
Therese answered. “You have to feel it. Visualization helps. I picture the body whole, and the magic bends that way. Sometimes, I have to push hard, but it works. And you also…talk to the body. Tell it to knit. I don’t how to explain it. You can always try a prayer, Oscar. God never fails me when I reach out for Him.”

  Britton frowned, unsettled by her words, thinking of his father’s violent religiosity. But she seemed so different from his father, beautiful where Stanley was ugly, kind where Stanley was cruel. Judge not, he thought, then laughed inwardly at the biblical turn of phrase.

  “You’re real religious?” Britton asked.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t want to go after you about it, but I don’t understand how. The church has been the biggest persecutor of us…oh, my God, I just referred to Latent people as ‘us.’”

  Therese laughed. “It makes sense, I guess.”

  “I hope I’m not offending you…”

  “You’re not, Oscar,” she said. “A lot of people lose religion when they find magic, and I guess that makes sense. I know the church hasn’t been a big supporter. But I mean, hell, it’s not the first time that the church has been turned to work against God’s intentions. You’ve got the Inquisition, the Crusades, clinic bombings, what have you. This is no different. God knows what’s right, and so do those who really follow Him.”

  “But doesn’t the very existence of magic turn some of that on its head?” Britton asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “But to be honest, I don’t really think about it. I would never have gotten this far without my faith, Oscar, I think I would have given up a long time ago. It keeps me going. When you have something that important to you, sometimes it helps not to ask a lot of questions. Make sense?”

  Britton was silent for a moment. It did make sense, but he didn’t like it. He knew it wouldn’t help to say that. “Sure it does,” he said instead. “So, how do we start?”

  “You’re going to…get emotional. Recall something significant from your past—an exciting event in your life, something tragic or momentous. You’re going to do your best to channel it. You know how to reach past the Dampener? Activate your emotions?”