“How do you know what that thing is saying after the stone has been removed?”
“Oh, we worked out a theory on that with Specimen Three” Jonathan said. “It’s got something to do with the veiny appendages we had to cut the stone free from. We think the stone uses those to map out the biological material it’s responsible for returning after its been ingested. Would explain why the body still goes back to the Feroxian Plane even when it’s not actually inside the gateway with me.”
“How does any of that explain why you hear its words translated in your head,” Watts said.
“Best guess,” Jonathan said. “My device is connected to the stone, the stone knows the Ferox it belongs to is speaking. So, it tells my implant to translate the Feroxian I’m hearing. Obviously, there are a lot of questions I can’t answer, but the theory fits the observations.”
“I’m sorry I asked,” Dr. Watts said.
Sometime later, after they had tested out the first few bags of groceries, Jonathan reached into the new bag and held up two options. It was Dr. Watt’s turn to pick what they tried next.
“I’m curious to see how it feels about the bacon,” Watts said.
Jonathan began to tear the packaging open.
“Maybe after this we can see if it prefers its martinis shaken or stirred,” Olivia said.
“Wait, what did you say?” Jonathan asked.
“Booze, I was kidding,” Olivia said.
“We haven’t tried that,” Watts said, frowning. “Not, booze necessarily . . . but maybe alcohol, drugs, narcotics, medical . . . experimental.”
Jonathan shrugged. “You want to find out if he prefers heroin or bacon first?”
“No!” Collin said. “I refuse to accept that we can’t do better than M. Night Shyamalan on this. Water can’t be the only weapon we have against these ali—”
Collin and Hayden had joined them in the Lab. They leaned against the BSC with Dr. Watts, when suddenly Specimen Thirteen began spitting out the contents that had been shoved into its mouth. This was different, the reaction far more violent and urgent. The Ferox’s stomach even seemed to be heaving like a human on the brink of vomiting.
“Wow, he really doesn’t care for that broccoli,” Collin said.
“To be fair, I’d react the same way,” Hayden said.
Dr. Watts came to stand next to the plastic shield. “Jonathan, you said their world doesn’t have any green vegetation?”
“As far as I know,” Jonathan said. “Why? You have a thought?”
“Maybe. It wouldn’t be a weakness exactly,” Watts said. “But if the flavor is unpalatable enough, we could try inundating their senses with it.”
“So, the mustard gas didn’t work and now you’re thinking broccoli gas?” Collin asked.
Watts gave him a sideways glance. “If you failed botany.”
That statement drew curious frowns from all in attendance.
“Broccoli is of the family Brassicaceae, more commonly known as the Mustard Family,” Watts said. “So, you could still technically call it mustard gas.”
Collin held her with a deadpan stare. “I really hope they’re paying you the big bucks, Watts.”
Admittedly, the idea was odd, but Jonathan wasn’t ready to leave anything unexplored.
“You’re thinking it might make it hard to smell a human getting close?” Jonathan asked.
“Maybe,” Watts said. “But it’s not what I had in mind. If the smell is bad enough to them, it might be something like bear or pepper spray.”
Jonathan nodded. “I guess the next question is how does one distill broccoli into a gas?”
Hayden chuckled at this. “After living with you the last few months I can tell you with absolute certainty that microwaving it will have the same effect.”
“It doesn’t need to be a gas,” Watts said. “Just a concentrated liquid.”
“So, what? Like, Broccoli Essential Oils?” Collin asked.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OCT 15, 2005 | 2:16 PM | JBLM FACILITY
HARRISON WATCHED AS Jonathan’s state deteriorated rapidly.
A few steps further from the shell and he staggered as though he’d been hit hard over the head with an anvil. The only thing keeping him from falling flat on the grated metal floor was her guards on either side of him.
“Knock it off, Tibbs,” Harrison yelled. “We got a real short fuse for bullshit.”
“I . . . I . . .” Jonathan struggled trying to get words out. It surprised all of them, seeing as this was the first time he’d bothered to speak.
He wore a pained confusion on his face, as though he had no idea who had yelled or why. He was panicking like he’d woken into a pitch-black room to discover his arms and legs restrained. “I’m n—”
His entire body strained, his lips pulling back to reveal tightly clenched teeth. His breaths labored in agonizing grunts, as if trying to breathe while being stabbed.
“Dammit, Tibbs, last warning,” Harrison said, gesturing to Rolland at the rear. The woman reached down and put a hand on the cudgel at her belt.
Suddenly, Jonathan’s face went blank and his legs turned to jelly.
Again, the guards kept him vertical, but his head fell and went limp against his chest. The guard with the cudgel stepped closer, but Harrison held her off. Eyeing her prisoner with suspicion, she stepped close, lifting his head until, had it not been for blindfold and mask, they would have been looking one another in the eye.
“Shit!” Harrison said, looking to each of women holding him. “Get him on the ground, slow and easy.”
Once his back was on the floor, the other guards saw for themselves what had caused Harrison’s alarm. Blood, a lot of it, was running from his nose and mouth.
“We buying this isn’t some trick?” asked Rolland, her hand still itching on her cudgel.
“He’d have to have bitten off his own tongue to bleed this much,” Harrison said.
She took a moment getting a grip on the situation, then turned to Rolland. “Call it in, we need Olivia’s approval to redirect him to the infirmary.”
She turned to Sowsa next, the guard on Jonathan’s right, “Don’t wait for the confirmation, get a doctor and a gurney on their way to meet us. We aren’t risking moving him without knowing what the hell is happening to him.”
Each guard went into action, while Harrison watched over him. He wasn’t still, and there was a disturbing unnaturalness to his movements. His head jerking violently as though he was being pummeled by an invisible attacker. With every violent spasm, Jonathan grimaced as though each brought more pain than the last. Just as she was considering ordering one of her guards to help hold him down, Jonathan’s chest rose with one final heave and collapsed.
The entire seizure came to an abrupt end.
Harrison was quick to search for a pulse. Finding one, she made the call to remove his blindfold and saw the man’s eyes fluttering rapidly beneath his lids. A few seconds of this continued, then stopped when Jonathan’s eyelids shot open. For a moment, all she could see were the whites of his eyes and it felt disturbingly long before his pupils finally rolled back into position. His eyes seemed to dilate in sync with his returning consciousness.
Disoriented, Jonathan tried to bring his hands to his face, only to be rewarded with the jingle of the handcuffs he’d forgotten. He looked about his surroundings, momentarily at a loss, until he finally focused on Harrison.
“Would you mind helping me sit up?” he asked.
After some hesitation, she gestured for her guard to help him. The hemorrhaging had stopped, though his mouth and chin were still covered in blood. His white prison shirt now looked like he’d been eating spaghetti from a trough. Watching him trying to spit, or rub his face against his shoulder, Harrison took pity on him and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to help him wipe his face.
When the handkerchief was too saturated to be any more use, she reached down around his neck and put his blindfold back in place. It was splotche
d with blood like the rest, but she was under strict orders to keep him from learning any more about the facility than necessary and she’d already failed to do so.
“Thank you,” Jonathan said.
“That sort of episode happen to you often?” Harrison asked.
Jonathan shook his head. He moved his jaw around a bit like he was testing to see if his teeth still fit together correctly after biting down so hard.
“Any idea what caused it?” Harrison asked. “I’m not a big fan of coincidences, Tibbs.”
Jonathan thought for a moment, then despite having the blindfold on he turned his head to look back in the direction of the shell. “I’m thinking it’s got something to do with my accommodations. I get the feeling your containment shell wasn’t exactly put through a rigorous health and safety inspection before you folks put people inside.”
He turned his head back to where she knelt in front of him. “That turns out to be the case, rest assured you’ll be hearing from my attorney.”
She frowned—obviously, he couldn’t be serious—he was joking. She tried to keep a straight face under the mask, but a chuckle escaped. “Yeah? Any chance you’ll consider settling out of court?”
“Reckless endangerment. Gross negligence.” He grimaced. “I’m thinking you’re in a very legally actionable position here.”
She shook her head. “You’re in a good mood for a guy sitting in a puddle of his own blood.”
“Happens more often than you might think,” Jonathan said.
“You sure you’re alright?”
Jonathan shrugged. “I appreciate the concern, Harrison, but I’ll be fine. Dr. Watts will tell you the same once we’re down in the infirmary.”
Harrison’s relief came to a swift halt. “How did . . .”
The words trailed off, as her thoughts raced through everything she recalled of the last few minutes. Her people hadn’t given names. For that matter, he’d also just correctly identified their lead medical officer. She was glad she’d put his blindfold back in place as he would have known he’d rattled her.
“At least Olivia will be pleased to know we’ll all be back on schedule soon,” Jonathan said.
“Prisoner.” Harrison’s voice became a threat again. “For the rest of our time together, you will speak when spoken to. Understand me?”
There was the faintest hint of a smirk on Jonathan’s face when he said, “You’re the boss, boss.”
Perth shook off his temporary disorientation.
They stood around a command table within Mr. Clean. Most watched him, their arms folded across their chests, standing the exact way they had before he entered The Never.
For everyone else, an imperceptible amount of time had passed. Mr. Clean referred to this as the moment of flux. Perth, on the other hand, had just spent thirty-six hours testing out future scenarios inside The Never.
The team, assembled to extricate Heyer from The Cell’s custody, was currently made up of seven. As Perth looked around the circle, Anthony and Sydney stood closest. They had been tapped first. With Mr. Clean’s assistance, they had brought him and the others together.
Next stood Beo, Mito, Tamsworth, and the youngest of them, Bodhi.
They waited, because he was returning from what they called Future Reconnaissance. The very sort of militarized abuse of The Never that would have had Nevric, the technology’s creator, rolling over in her grave.
Mr. Clean would open a temporary dimension, a duplicate of their reality, and send in a member of the team. These instances were different than when they had to deal with a Ferox. They weren’t hampered by the same constraints, the AI could send anyone with an active implant into The Never, supplied with as much energy as was necessary to ensure that dimensional degradation didn’t alter the course of events inside.
In short, Future Reconnaissance gave them a great deal of certainty on how things would unfold over the next few days. They had already gathered intelligence about The Cell’s facility and its members. Now, they had begun testing variations of an extraction plan. When they went in to rescue Jonathan and Heyer for real, in this reality, The Cell would quite literally have no surprises waiting for them.
Still, one variable remained outside of their control.
“Well, the kid ain’t wrong,” Perth said, giving Bodhi a vindicating nod. “Jonathan has a very different idea of how this is going to go. He’s ordering us to change tactics. If we are following that order, we need to start adapting now.”
Tamsworth had been the one to find the news the hardest to swallow when Bodhi reported it. He shook his head now as though he still remained unconvinced. “Ya’ll saw him. Tibbs was borderline catatonic. Now what? He’s right as rain and givin’ out orders.”
“We all get it Tam,” Perth said. “But I’m telling you, he’s a completely different dude than he was ten minutes ago.”
“We all saw his condition,” Bodhi said. “It’s why I didn’t get all butt-hurt when every single one of you voted to send Perth in just to prove I wasn’t bat-shit crazy.”
“No one’s said that,” Tam said.
Mr. Clean, whose presence currently hovered over them from various monitors, spoke up, “My apologies, Tamsworth, but Bodhi’s recollection is accurate.”
Without being asked, a recording of Tamsworth’s initial reaction to Bodhi’s report began to play on one of the displays. “As you can see, Bodhi’s recollection of your word choice is quite acc—”
“Fine,” Tam said. “But I didn’t mean it. I’d just, I’d written Tibbs off, and now you’re telling me . . .”
Perth gave him a sympathetic look. “We all thought he was a lost cause. But, I’m telling you. He ain’t broken no mo. If the man I just met was the real Jonathan Tibbs, then I get why Heyer told me to follow him. He knew a hell of a lot more about what was going on than any of us.”
“Yeah,” Bodhi said. “Well, he said he’d been planning this out for months.”
“Months?” Anthony asked. “How could that even be possible?”
Perth and Bodhi shared a look and shook their heads.
“I can’t say,” Perth said. “But, he knew every detail of our extraction plan—and his is better.”
“Yeah,” Bodhi said. “Everything he told me, everything he wants us to do—it makes sense. Actually, kinda felt like we’ve been playing checkers and he’s playing chess.”
“If I may,” Mr. Clean interrupted. “There may be an explanation for this, I observed a serious peculiarity in Jonathan’s gate queue right before Bodhi’s last—”
“Hey, no, hold on there!” Perth cut in. What was interesting, was that if Perth hadn’t, Bodhi looked as though he was about to interrupt as well. “Mr. Clean, when Jonathan was giving orders, he was real clear about this. Only Anthony and Sydney can know anything about his queue.”
Sydney and Anthony exchanged a look.
“He knows us, actually said our names?” she asked.
Bodhi nodded. “He knows all of us—and yeah, he gave me the same order.”
“Did he say why?” Anthony asked.
“Kinda,” Perth said. “You two don’t have active implants. Anyone who can still be drawn into The Never by a Ferox has to stay as much in the dark as possible.”
Tam scoffed, “Well, that ain’t giving my doubts any comfort.”
“It should,” Mr. Clean said. “If Jonathan is taking command it’s a wise tactical decision.”
“How is that?” Anthony asked.
“Heyer is now openly at war with his brother,” Mr. Clean said. “Malkier could theoretically enter The Never through any of your gateways. That means any man with an implant in possession of information about our defenses—could become a liability.”
This possibility brought the conversation to a halt as the weight settled on each of their shoulders. Even Tam was quick to see the implications, and when he spoke, his words captured the thoughts of everyone present. “Well, ain’t that a shit sandwich.”
Anthony
nodded. “But, Jonathan considered it before we did.”
Mito and Beo had yet to chime in. Neither was a man of many words, but Mito had been listening intently throughout the entire exchange. Of those that had not yet encountered this new version of Jonathan, he was the first to cast his vote. “I gave Heyer an oath that I would follow and protect this man. If Jonathan is now giving orders, I will do what he asks of me.”
“Well, great for you,” Tam said. “I never gave Heyer no oath. I’d never even heard of Jonathan Tibbs two days ago.”
“Tam,” Anthony shook his head. “Let’s not go through it again.”
What Anthony didn’t wish to discuss was the discovery that each of the men’s experiences with Heyer were different. They all understood that a war was inevitable, but any specifics beyond that were—highly individualized—to say the least. That said, after forty-eight hours getting to know Tam, Perth figured he had a guess as to why it seemed Tam had been the least informed.
“‘Nough, I wanna hear what Jonathan had ta say,” Beo said.
Bodhi and Perth exchanged looks.
While Mito wasn’t particularly chatty, Beo was quiet for altogether different reasons. He was the largest man in this room by far—but to be fair he was probably the largest man in any room he’d ever been in. He had a voice to match his height and muscles. His tone seemed threatening whether he wanted it to or not. Oddly, Mito seemed to be the only one immune to the man’s sheer presence.
“Um, yeah, we should definitely do that,” Bodhi said.
“In Jonathan’s plan, we aren’t just pulling out Heyer and him,” Perth said. “There are, well, a lot more extractions he needs us to make.”
“Yeah, but . . . that isn’t what’s going to make his plan more difficult,” Bodhi said.
“It ain’t?” Tam asked.
“He says we can’t kill anyone,” Perth said.
The room was silent for a long while.
“He happen to say exactly how he’s expectin’ us to pull that off, mate?” Tam asked.
A short time later, Sydney and Anthony stepped out into a hallway. Mr. Clean would begin sending the extraction team out to do more Future Recon. The five men would be taking turns working out what challenges lay ahead with the new plan. They weren’t starting from scratch. Jonathan’s shadow inside The Never had made both Bodhi and Perth commit to memory a great deal of what the team needed to know.
The Never Army Page 17