by S Mays
“Sverre, we work together. What kind of relationship could we have even if I did want more? Which I don’t.”
“Jess, our work is our life. We live here. This job is all we have. You said yourself, there are no relationships outside of the compound. You shouldn’t have to give up love simply to fulfill a mission, no matter how important it is.”
“You’re saying I should settle for you, because there aren’t any other options.”
“Yes. Er, no. That’s not what I mean. What do you want? A lifetime spent fighting monsters until you die in combat? You can’t tell me you haven’t been lonely all these years here. It’s almost abusive, what they’ve done to you. A life devoid of relationships and love. Everyone should have a chance at those.”
“This is what I want to do. Some of us have to sacrifice so that others can have the things you speak of. Not everyone in life has the same opportunities,” she said softly, looking away.
“Even when those opportunities are staring right at you?” he asked, turning her face back to his.
She was startled at his closeness. Their eyes locked. She struggled internally for a moment, then slowly closed her eyes. Sverre leaned in and kissed her gently, unsure of how to proceed. She jerked away just as their lips met, turning her head away from him.
“You don’t understand, Sverre. There can never be anything between us besides friendship, and I’m beginning to question if we can have that. I had a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again, so please don’t try. And if you ever touch me again in that manner without my permission, my knife might not miss.” She gathered her things and rushed out of the room.
Sverre sat in the room alone, wondering what had just happened.
In the subtle glow of a monitor connected to one of the many cameras in the training room, a lone figure watched the encounter intently. “Looks like it’s about time for phase two,” he muttered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, Sverre was happy to be eating at the regular dinner table instead of in his room. Bilford had insisted on running a full panel of tests before Sverre came in contact with too many people, so as to avoid any unintended soul-obliterating.
He’d missed the thick-sliced bacon, eggs, homemade biscuits, and all of the other dishes Hilda prepared every morning. Everyone was just getting settled in when he arrived. He looked at Jessica, but she did not look his way. He sat down across from her and said good morning to everyone. She curtly returned his greeting, loading her plate. Perhaps she was going to pretend nothing had happened. She reached across the table, but Sverre was a split-second faster and grabbed up the plate she was reaching for. He transferred several pieces of link sausage onto his plate, then in mock surprise looked at Jessica.
“Oh, I’m sorry, would you like some of this sausage?” he asked.
She answered with a kick under the table and, “No, it looks a bit shriveled and burnt.” At that, a shadow loomed over Sverre. Hilda leaned in close, examining the plate.
“Nothing wrong with this sausage, girl,” the towering woman said.
Sverre laughed as he put the plate back on the table. Jessica stifled a smile, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Hilda looked at them both quizzically, then went back to mixing batter.
“I trust you had a fruitful training session?” Bilford asked from behind his paper.
Sverre and Jessica remained silent.
“You two did train together last night?” he asked again.
“Yes, sir,” Jessica finally responded.
“That’s good! You’ll be working together often, so it’s good that you get a feel for each other’s movements and instincts,” he said. Sverre’s brow furrowed as he looked toward Jessica. She frowned.
“Will you two lovebirds stop playing footsie under the table and finish up? I’m going to vomit,” said Sam.
“I’ve got no clue what you are referring to, Sam, m’man,” Sverre said, feigning ignorance. Bilford turned the page of his paper, keeping it directly in front of him, shielding himself from the discussion. Sverre wondered if they’d seen what had happened in the training room last night. Cameras in every room might be great for security, but terrible for privacy.
“After breakfast, will you take Sverre down to the Tank and show him around?” Bilford asked.
“The Tank? Why?” Jessica asked. Being alone with Sverre was the last thing she wanted at the moment.
“I think if he’s going to be with us long-term, he should know everything.”
“It hasn’t been operational since…” She trailed off.
“I know,” Bilford acknowledged, finally putting the paper down to look at her directly. “But he should know all of our history if he’s going to be around for the long haul, don’t you think?”
She frowned again, unable to think of any good excuses.
Following breakfast, Jessica walked Sverre to the elevator. She punched in a code, then selected level five. Sverre had thought level four, which contained the holding cells, was the lowest in the facility.
After an uncomfortably short ride filled with silence, the door opened into the complete darkness of the lowest floor. As they stepped out, bright lights flickered to life all around them.
The giant room was a manufacturing facility of some type, with machinery stacked from wall to wall. Everything in the room was covered in a thick layer of dust. The machinery was very advanced, even though it appeared to be from a previous era. Sverre pondered what purpose the unusual machines could serve. At the end of the room was a large transparent tank to which Jessica led him. It stood at roughly chest height, and was about as large as a king-sized bed. Upon reaching it, he peered over the edge at the contents. The top was covered with the same transparent material as the sides.
“This looks like the stuff your sword is made out of,” he stated, turning toward Jessica.
She sighed, unwilling to explain, but Bilford had insisted. “It is. This is the Nano Tank. It’s where we store the nanites. Honestly, I don’t know why Grandfather asked me to bring you down here. It’s been inactive for years,” she explained.
“I don’t understand why you guys aren’t churning those puppies out like crazy. Casca is a crazy weapon.”
Jessica reflected for a moment before responding. “The process to create new weapons was lost to us almost immediately after achieving it. It depends on a sort of …bond between a person and the particles. Besides that, only highly trained members can achieve the energy focus and concentration to even use the weapons. There were only a handful ever created. We still manufacture replacement particles to replace lost or aging nanites due to wear and tear, but that’s all they are used for now. This room used to bustle with some of the most brilliant researchers from around the world. Now, I’m the only one who comes down here.”
“What do you mean by, ‘lost to us’?” Sverre prodded.
“I suppose you’ll have to learn eventually,” she said with a sigh. “I mentioned before that my father helped create all of this. My father was Jake Luvkrafft. He was one of our most brilliant scientists, as well as an officer in the organization. He…died a few years ago.”
Sverre noticed that her demeanor changed when she talked about her dad. There was a sorrow overshadowed by immense respect and love. She turned away, not wishing to let Sverre see her emotions.
Sverre waited, hoping she’d continue. He wondered if he should leave the issue alone, despite his curiosity. She’d probably tell him the full story in time. She stood silently, apparently lost in memories. He bent down to get a closer look at the contents of the tank. It looked like a large container of gray, extremely fine sand. He’d need a microscope to see the minute details of the individual particles.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed, backing away from the tank. The outburst broke Jessica from her reverie.
“What is it?” she asked, turning to see what had disturbed him.
“Something’s moving in there!”
She laughed and l
ooked through the side glass. “You probably saw your reflection and startled yourself. These have to be powered for movement.” With that, she pulled Casca’s hilt from its holster and waved it over the tank. A soft hum started as the lid slid neatly into the wall. She whispered her command phrase, and the blade extended down to the tank. Sverre noticed that a bit of the dust swirled around the blade for a moment before settling back down.
“See? It automatically replaces any worn or missing units. They communicate with each other, but they are not self-powered.”
“I’m telling you, I saw something move in there,” Sverre said, pointing to the side of the tank.
Inside the tank, Jessica saw the particles begin to move where his finger touched the glass. They swirled clockwise, forming a small whirlpool. As he moved closer, other areas shifted, as if something stirred beneath the surface. She was alarmed to see that some of the particles had started to move up the side of the tank, apparently attempting to escape.
She holstered her weapon quickly, Casca’s blade disappearing into the hilt. The tank’s lid slid back into place just as a few particles emerged from the top. The bits were drawn to Sverre like a magnet. He stepped back as they gently floated to the ground, bereft of the ability to move once he stepped out of range.
“What the heck was that about?” he said, looking to Jessica for answers. She appeared just as bewildered as he was.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she admitted.
Sverre reached down to the few pieces that had fallen on the floor. As he drew nearer, they leapt upon his finger, stirred to life again. The tip of his finger lit up with a myriad of small explosions, each one accompanied by a tiny “paf” sound. It looked like the smallest fireworks show on Earth.
“Ow!” he cried, putting his finger in his mouth. His finger was singed.
“And I’ve definitely never seen anything like that before,” she said, inspecting his finger. “It’s like they self-destructed or overloaded.”
“Geez, I’d hate to see what would happen if I’d stuck my hand in there,” he said, “because, you know, I was totally thinking about doing that before.”
“Judging by the damage ten or twenty particles did to your finger, that might have been akin to grabbing a live grenade. If the process somehow perpetuated into a chain reaction throughout the tank, the resulting explosion might have leveled this floor.”
“I guess I won’t be getting a weapon of my own anytime soon.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty safe assumption, even if the process were still available, which it is not, as I told you ten minutes ago.”
Sverre smiled at her with his usual boyish grin. He was a very hard personality to get a handle on. She knew he was bright, but he had a very lackadaisical attitude in general, never taking anything seriously. Sometimes his comments were meant to tease or prod his target by feigning ignorance, and at other times it was because he did not think about what he was saying before saying it. She wasn’t sure how one personality trait could both endear and frustrate simultaneously.
“We should notify Grandfather about this. Perhaps he’ll have an idea on the strange reaction of the particles.”
After a short search, they were told Bilford had left. Apparently, there was an urgent meeting. Much of the base was empty due to several emergency situations arising at once. Sverre noticed Jessica talking to Sam. He wondered if the sudden disappearances were related.
“I’ll have to leave on an assignment immediately — no, you won’t be joining me. This is a high-level operation, and while you might be skilled in many areas, you haven’t even touched teamwork in the field,” she said, cutting off his protest. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Every person the building is gone! What am I supposed to do? Am I stuck here because of what happened at the sanitarium?” he whined.
“You’re not a prisoner here. Go find something to do. Play your games or read up on your studies or something. You’ve fallen behind on those. Just because you aren’t attending school does not mean you shouldn’t be educating yourself. You know the policy.”
“Yeah, well, trig and literature seem kinda dull after learning the entire world was almost sucked into a vortex in 1919,” he said with a sigh.
“You are the laziest person on Earth!” she exclaimed.
“Hey, I just don’t do work for the fun of it. If it needs to be done, I’ll do it. But where’s my motivation?”
“Worldly knowledge? Spiritual awareness? The ability to work somewhere besides fast food if by some disastrous unforeseen circumstance, we are all turned out on the street? I’ve almost finished studies that would be the equal of a doctorate at many colleges.”
“Yeah, if your employer accepted degrees from Super-Secret Government University,” Sverre responded, rolling his eyes. “If we are in the business of kicking supernatural ass, consider me a Ph.D.,” he said, rolling up a sleeve to show his bicep. “Don’t stare directly at it. It has been shown to stun many ladies.”
“I’m the only ‘lady’ you know, and I’m only stunned by your lack of self-awareness. I’m worried about you. You aren’t the person you were when I first met you. I think you’ve changed, and not for the better.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’re arrogant, and you are getting more conceited as time goes on. You’re cocky and reckless. Granted, I didn’t know you well before, but judging by your files, you used to be —”
“A wimp? A nobody? Yeah, that was me. I was an average guy that not one single person paid attention to. And you know what? I liked it. I didn’t want to stand out. I didn’t want the responsibility of trying to be a leader or popular or successful. But now I have power. I’m somebody. I’ve got these skills that people can only dream about. So yeah, I guess I have changed, but I like it. What’s wrong with enjoying the gifts you are given? The Order will benefit from my abilities, too.”
“Sverre, you weren’t given this power to benefit yourself. It was given to you to benefit humanity. It is not about you. Maybe we should consider medications to regulate your impulsiveness. We can call in some experts to analyze the changes you’ve gone through. I think the souls within you are having a negative effect on you. Like a drug or a chemical imbalance.”
“Like I said: I like it. I’m not going to see any doctors. Bilford and Sam are happy with my progress. I’ve known people who go on medication and seem like bland zombies. I’ve been bland my entire life. I admit: it sometimes worries me. Like…I wonder who I really am, and who’s pulling the strings. But I think the new confidence and power is awesome, and I’m going to use it to be somebody.”
“Yes, but I’m worried who that someone is going to turn out to be. We will have to continue this some other time. I need to go. Do something productive while I’m gone. Hopefully, Grandfather will be back, and you can tell him all about the incident in the Tank.”
He called to her as she turned. “Jess?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“I’m always careful. You need not worry about me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bilford did not return that night. There was only a skeleton crew running the entire base. Sverre felt liberated, knowing that besides Hilda and a few others, the entire facility was empty. He’d been patiently waiting months for just such an opportunity. His training regimen had been in preparation for this moment. There was a debt to be paid, and he intended to collect as soon as possible. The ones who had killed his father and stolen away his mother were going to die by his hand.
He’d learned more in the past few months of training than most people would in a lifetime. Sam said it was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. He swore that he wasn’t actually training Sverre, but that he was reminding him of abilities he’d already possessed. He merely had to tap into the knowledge of those inside him — stir their forgotten memories from over the centuries, and the knowledge he needed bubbled to the top. Every weapon
was a variation or improvement of another weapon. Fighting techniques evolved, but were fundamentally the same throughout the ages.
He thought of all the abilities and weaponry available to him now. If he’d had these when he fought Rilus, it would have been no contest. Not only were his combat capabilities equal to a squad of modern-day marines, but his physical strength had increased as well. He’d never shown the total extent of it to anyone at the Farm, but he was confident he was at least three times stronger than when he’d arrived at the facility.
He recalled the “Most Powerful Person” television shows he’d seen growing up. Huge men, larger than life, accomplishing superhuman feats of strength. Each participant was required to throw hundreds of pounds through the air, or pull trucks or buses. He chuckled to himself, thinking about competing on such a show now, despite the fact that his lean body was roughly half the size of the participants’. His amusement faded quickly as he realized that could never happen, sworn to secrecy as he was.
It wasn’t easy being cooped up in the facility, partially cut off from the real world. True, he was never forbidden from leaving, but whenever he visited the outside world, he felt he was viewing it from a window. He no longer had a place in it. Unable to develop any relationships or make new friends lest they come to harm either from creatures like the werewolves or the organization itself.
He was constantly monitored, although he wasn’t sure of all of the means used to do so. Satellite for sure, and random agents skulking about here and there. The Order had access to all camera systems, even home security systems. He wondered if he’d ever be fully trusted, or if everyone leaving the Farm had someone shadowing them. He wondered if they’d implanted him with some sort of tracking chip. It seemed like they always knew where he was, even when he tried to elude them.
Sverre moved stealthily down the hallways. There was no telling when everyone would return. He entered Bilford’s study, glancing around quickly. It was empty. He moved to Bilford’s desk, pushing the hidden button underneath that activated the computer system. The display flickered for a moment, then sprang to life. Now, for the hard part.
