by JN Chaney
Nuber sat in the hallway, a bag in one hand and a towel in the other. “Here,” he said, handing him the towel.
Terry wiped himself, then wrapped the cloth around his waist.
“You did well today,” Nuber said. His voice was very low, like a whisper. “Whatever happens after this, you did okay.”
Terry didn’t answer. He only stood there. He didn’t know what Nuber was trying to say. All he could think of was leaving this horrible place.
Nuber gave him the bag of clothes. “Get dressed, but take your time. It’s fine if you have some trouble. The shaking should stop in a few minutes.”
When Terry was finally ready, Nuber placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” said the teacher. “Let’s get you back to class.”
Chapter 8
Amber Project File Logs
Play Audio File 1277
Subtitled: Students
To: Henry_Nuber
Received January 16, 2345
BISHOP: I understand your concerns. I’ve gone over the whole thing a hundred times in my head, maybe more. We couldn’t avoid what happened. If we didn’t start the exposures when we did, we would’ve lost more later.
Archer has assured me without direct contact, the children’s bodies may never fully develop. The exposures need to be controlled. If we fail, we risk losing the rest of them the moment they reach the surface. Then what? We’ll have to start all over, and there’ll be a few dozen skeletons lying topside, waiting to greet the next batch. That is, of course, if those mutated things haven’t already taken the bones for themselves, dragged them off to whatever hell they come from.
So no, I don’t think we should have waited on this. If they’re going to die, better they do it down here with us than up there surrounded by all of them. Given your personal history, Henry, I’m sure you can agree with that much, at least.
End Audio File
January 23, 2345
The Maternity District
“Matron,” said Ross as she took a seat on the other side of Mara’s desk. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me again.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Mara, turning on her pad. She brought up a list of talking points. “It’s not as though your boss will see me. What choice do I have?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry about that.” Ross was so stiff in her seat. She brought a bag with her as always, but this time she kept it against her thigh. She seemed to keep a hand on it at any given time. “I took your concerns to the colonel, like you asked.”
Mara’s eyes widened. “And? What did he say? Are you here to tell me he’s reversed his decision to leave me out of the loop?”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. He actually chastised me for speaking out of turn. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Mara, sighing. “Once the old bastard’s set his mind to something, there’s no changing it. I appreciate the effort, though.”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t agree with withholding information from you.”
“You and me both,” said Mara. She shook her head. “It isn’t right what he’s doing. As the matron, I have a right to know what’s going on over there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The motherhood has always worked alongside the other branches. An open dialogue is essential. Why is he doing this? Has he given you a reason?”
Ross looked at the floor. “He says it’s because you’re too close to it…the children, I mean. He says you don’t understand what needs to be done.”
“And what exactly needs to be done, captain?”
“I want to tell you, matron,” said Ross.
“But you can’t.”
“It’s complicated.”
“This is why I asked for disclosure,” said Mara. “Nothing’s complicated when there are no secrets.”
Ross nodded, slowly. She clutched her bag, squeezing and twisting the fabric. What was wrong with her today?
Mara didn’t enjoy putting Ross in the middle of this mess. Mara rather liked her actually, especially now. Had she somehow, since the last meeting, caused this woman some added stress? “It’s okay,” Mara said. “Why don’t we forget about politics for a few minutes. Now that I think about it, I realize I don’t know much about you, Ross.”
“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid,” she said.
“Nonsense,” said Mara. “Everyone has a story. How did such a lovely woman like yourself fall into the military’s service? You’re one of the few, I think.”
“Females, you mean?” she asked. “It’s true, there aren’t too many of us in the service.”
“So how did you get involved in it?”
“The last time we spoke, you accused me of being a dog of the military. Are you certain you want to hear about how I got my leash?”
“I’m sorry about that. I know you’re only following orders.”
Ross glanced at the bookcase on the far wall. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’d feel the same way in your position. I understand the desire for respect. More than most, actually.” She looked at Mara. “I was slated to be a mother, back when I was a little girl. Did you know that?”
The words took Mara by surprise. “Sorry, no, I had no idea.”
“Yes, I was very excited about it. Any girl would be. But a few years before I graduated, Archer released his AGP. It changed everything, but I’m sure you’re aware.”
Better than most, Mara thought.
“We had already received our evaluations, so there was no question as to where I’d work. During the visitation week, when the students were shown their future occupations, the soon-to-be mothers were taken to the mother’s lounge, introduced to a few of the veterans, and briefed on what would happen next. They made it sound quite wonderful. I remember feeling enamored with the whole experience.”
Ross’s smile began to fade. Her stare went cold and narrow. “But a few months later, they took us to the labs and ran their tests. Most of the girls passed, much to their delight, but not me. I had redundant genes. Afterwards, they left me alone in a waiting room. I suspect the doctors didn’t know what to do with me. Looking back, I can see why. The AGP had only just been released, and I’d already received my evaluation. It was unprecedented.
“I waited several hours for answers. For a fourteen-year-old girl, that’s an eternity. I kept expecting someone to come in and tell me there’d been a mistake…that the reason I had to wait so long was because they needed to run more tests. But when the door opened, it wasn’t a doctor who came…or a teacher for that matter. It was Ava Long.”
“Ava went to see you?”
Ross smiled. “I couldn’t believe it. What would the matron want with me, especially now? She walked over, asked if I was the special little girl everybody was talking about. When I said my name, she hugged me and said she wanted to sit with me for a while. I told her it was fine, and we sat together until the doctors came. She asked me questions, like what I enjoyed in school, about my friends. You know, ordinary things. She was so nice to me. I loved her immediately.”
Mara smiled. “That sounds like Ava.”
“When the doctors arrived and told me the final results, the matron didn’t leave my side. She sat there, holding my hand, and stayed with me for an hour afterwards trying to cheer me up. Despite the results, she told me I was special. She said most girls don’t get to be anything else besides a mother. I had the opportunity to do whatever I wanted. She said she’d make sure of it. Whatever occupation I chose, that’s the one I would get. We talked about my options. With my test scores, she said, I could be a scientist, a clerk, a contractor. But none of those things sounded very interesting.”
“So you chose to be a soldier?”
Ross nodded. “Even as a child, I understood how the system worked. Only three branches had any actual power: the motherhood, the military, and the science division. I couldn’t be a mother, obviously, and after dealing with
the AGP, I hated Archer. The only other option was the service.”
“Which you joined.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did. To make what little difference I could, to do the right thing, but more importantly, to honor the woman who came to see me on the worst day of my life.”
“That’s quite a story,” said Mara. “I’m glad it had a happy ending.”
Ross frowned. “I’m not sure yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“The system’s broken, matron. I’ve tried to patch it where I can, but in all these years I’ve accomplished nothing.”
Mara leaned back in her chair and took a moment. She examined this captain, this Avery Ross whose childhood ambition had sought to change the world. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“But it is,” she said. “At every opportunity, I’ve tried to alter the flow. No one gives a damn, though. That’s why…” She looked at the bag again, her words fading.
Mara cocked an eyebrow. “Why…what?”
Ross snapped out of the trance. She took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. “It’s why I’m going to help you,” she said, releasing the air from her lungs. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I am.”
Mara stiffened and leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since our last meeting. After talking with Colonel Bishop and getting nowhere, I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. I debated with myself for days on helping you, but it wasn’t until I walked through your door when I decided to act.”
Mara was speechless. Of all the people to turn on Bishop, she never expected it would be Ross, his golden soldier. His second in command.
“Now you know why I told you my story, ma’am. I wanted you to understand my reasons.” She unlatched her bag and took out a pad, sliding it across the desk. It was a report about the Variant test chamber with a list of five names below. Mara recognized them from Terrance’s class roster. She looked at the captain. “Reasons for what, Ross?”
“For betraying my command,” she muttered. “For treason.”
*******
April 28, 2345
The Academy, Central
Terry changed classrooms almost immediately. Fewer desks for fewer children. The official word was that the other students were transferred, but after experiencing the chamber, it was hard to believe any of them had walked out of there alive.
Now, with seventeen students for seventeen desks, it was like the others never existed. Yet five were missing, and Terry suspected it had nothing to do with a transfer or anything else so convenient.
But he had no proof—nothing physical, anyway. He only had his own experiences in the room with the gas, the lingering thought of possibilities, of what might have been.
It wasn’t just Terry, either. They were all different. Still the same people, the same faces, but with a change beneath the masks. With each passing day, a weariness grew behind their eyes saying they knew something was wrong. Yet, despite all of that, they still smiled, still joked, still made fun. There was life within them, a willingness to adapt.
They had merely given up on being children.
“Hey, you coming?” asked John.
“What?” asked Terry. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard Mr. Nuber’s instructions. Was class over? No, the clock on Nuber’s desk said otherwise.
“Weren’t you listening? We’re going to the arena. Mr. Nuber wants us to run a few drills.”
They arrived soon, and Terry geared up, reluctantly, preparing for the games. He quickly noticed the change in weight as he strapped the vest on. Had they replaced it since the last time? Nuber never mentioned anything about it, and no one else had said a word. “Does all of this feel lighter to you?” he asked John.
“Now that you mention it, yeah, I guess it does. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, examining his armor. “Weird.” And it was weird, especially given the fact that only a few days ago Terry could barely lift the armor, let alone walk so easily. He strutted back and forth, swinging both arms, taking wide strides. Whatever this new armor was, he wouldn’t complain about it.
At Nuber’s signal, Terry walked to the back of the pitch black arena and took up the same starting location he always had. He turned his night-vision goggles on and waited for the buzzer.
Roland, Sarah, and Mei took their places, too. He hated fighting Mei. She always took things so seriously. I’ll let the others take her out, he thought. Sit back and wait. Afterwards, he’d go for Sarah. She took to the offensive more than Roland, but she never watched her back. If he could shoot her while she was fighting someone else, he’d only have Roland to contend with. Then, he might stand a chance at winning.
Not as if it really mattered. Terry rarely won the games. He simply couldn’t keep up with the others, even the weaker kids. It was all he could do to get a single kill, let alone come out on top.
But there were always those moments of luck taking place now and again. Anything could happen.
The buzzer rang, startling him. He crouched behind a cube, taking a quick moment to observe the others, their bodies glowing red and orange behind the lenses of the infrared goggles. He switched to night vision and spotted an isolated cube near the back of the skirmish—prime real estate for an eager sharpshooter. He clutched the side of the cube, his heart racing. Here goes nothing, he thought, and leapt into a mad sprint.
He ran, low and steady with surprising grace. For the first time in his life, he was strong and quick, limber and agile. With each step, the weight of the vest and the weapon became lighter. He couldn’t believe it. Whatever this equipment was made of, he was happy to have it.
He dashed through the array of cubes scattered between Sarah and himself, taking position far beyond where she was fighting.
“Player three retired,” said the computer. Sarah had already taken Mei out, turning her sights on Roland. Good, he thought, readying the rifle. Just two more targets.
Terry relaxed, taking aim at Sarah, her back against him. It was a perfect shot by any standard. He pulled the trigger and hit her in the back of the arm, missing the kill shot. He’d need another to knock her out of the game. Unfortunately, he might not get the chance.
Sarah stopped firing at Roland and turned to look at Terry. Her predicament must have become apparent, because she immediately bolted. Roland and Terry both fired at her, but she evaded, ducking behind a cube and avoiding their shots.
Terry took the opportunity to bolt toward Roland’s position. He dashed through the cubes with a speed he’d never known. As he approached, he found it difficult to slow, causing him to collide with Roland’s cube and fall over to the other side, knocking Roland to the ground alongside him. Terry and Roland both scrambled for their rifles, seizing them at the same time and firing.
Two shots were fired and two shots landed. A beam of light tagged Terry in his left leg; another hit Roland in the chest. Through luck or bumbling skill, Terry had won the skirmish. “Player one retired,” announced the computer.
“Damn,” muttered Roland. He got to his feet and ran to the exit.
Sarah wasted no time before she began her assault on Terry’s position. A shot collided with the cube nearby, calling for Terry’s attention. He lowered his head and took a moment.
Both he and Sarah had been grazed, which meant a single shot could take them out. It didn’t matter whether it hit them in an arm or the chest. Either way, the game would be over.
Terry’s heart started racing. He’d rarely done so well, not without cheating. It was so exciting. He considered looking for an exploit or coming up with a strategy, but he couldn’t focus. This energy, coursing through him—it made him feel alive. He breathed quickly, his chest rising and falling with the speed of a beating heart. He felt like he could conquer the world.
Sarah’s shots passed overhead—several white pieces of light trailing together at close intervals. Terry
rose above the edge of his cube, preparing to fire. But before he could aim, another shot came spiraling toward him. He dodged to the side, the light barely missing his face. He stumbled, falling to the floor. He’d never moved so fast in all his life. Where had it come from?
Terry peaked over the cube and with his goggles switched to infrared. He spotted a pulsing orange Sarah in the distance. He aimed the weapon, trying to hide what he could of himself, and fired. The shot colliding with the cube wall, spooking Sarah to hide. After a short moment, she blindly fired back, holding the rifle above her mount.
Terry ducked again. He couldn’t help but grin. Never before did he ever think he stood a chance at matching Sarah in the arena, not without cheating. No one would make fun of him after today.
He tilted his head back and watched the shots of light pierce the air above him like little white dagger marks. Had they always moved so slowly? He thought for sure they were faster.
He waited for Sarah to stop firing, counting the beams as they flew overhead.
One, two, three, four. The shots were beginning to slow. Five…six.
Was Sarah trying to draw him out? Get some kind of response? Terry didn’t see how. It wasn’t like the shots were far enough apart that he could do anything. Seven.
What a waste of time, he thought. If she wants me to show myself, she needs to give me more time.
Eight.
Terry felt a flush go over his chest and stomach. He felt nauseous. It must be the adrenaline, he thought.
Nine.
His hands tingled, pins and needles all along his skin and fingertips. He pushed his back against the cube, trying to stand but quickly fell again when another shot passed by.
Ten.
Terry shook his head as the light collided with the nearby cube. Had it really taken such a long time for the next round, or was Sarah doing it on purpose? Her last shot moved so much slower than the others—slow enough that he’d actually been able to follow it with his eye all the way to the wall.
