Through the Never

by J. A. Culican

  “You look lost,” said a pleasant voice from behind a desk. A girl with thick, black hair pulled back into a ponytail peered at him. She squinted at him, her eyes partially obscured under a heavy frown. “Where’s your uniform?”

  “I haven’t been issued one, ma’am,” said Javen, stopping at the desk, hands folded unconsciously behind his back.

  “Javen Worth, correct? You have your ID?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She took his ID card, passed it under a scanner, and handed it back.

  “You’re sweating.” She stated. “Relax. If I was going to ream you, I’d have done it by now.”

  “Yes, ma’am”

  “And knock off that “ma’am” crap. You’re starting to irritate me. I go by Amanda when I’m off duty, but right now, I’m Lieutenant Brighton. Got it?”

  Javen choked back another, Yes, ma’am. “Yes, Lieutenant Brighton.”

  Though her face was warm and attractive, Brighton’s tone balanced on a razor’s edge between annoyance and hostility.

  Her fingers raced over the terminal pad. “Are you a transfer?” she asked.

  “No, I’m a new enlistment.”

  Her eyes flashed up at him, “You’re a freeborn?”

  “Yes ma’am—I mean—Yes, Lieutenant.”

  “What the moonpuck are you doing here?”

  The lofty idea of a political future felt a million miles away to Javen. And he knew better than to tell anyone the reason he’d enlisted. They’d probably figure it out sooner or later, but the longer it took the better. The very fact that Brighton was making a big deal about him being freeborn made him uneasy. Was it that uncommon for a freeborn to join the academy?

  Javen sighed. “It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it.”

  Her attention again returned to the terminal, and she said softly, “Count to sixty.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Just do as you’re told.”

  He obeyed, and watched her face as he counted. Brighton’s eyes flicked back and forth across the screen as her fingers pattered furiously on the terminal pad. This cadet was the first that hadn’t cussed him out. The others had all taken shots at him, but then after verbally bashing him, they had warmed up a little and shared about the school, and of course about Nero and his orangutan. Brighton so far had remained as cold as midnight on the moon, but had refrained from the tongue lashing.

  She did share one thing in common with every other cadet he’d encountered at Ledmeer that day, and that was the fact that she was a Ward. Property of the government, and probably from birth. A tattoo on her neck said as much. Without the intimacy of a mother and father, Wards all shared a unique—almost loveless—personality. They were all so hardened, thought Javen.

  At the count of fifty-seven, Brighton’s voice cut in on Javen’s thoughts, “Okay, tell me if I’m wrong. Your mother’s a senator, she’s on the war committee, and she’s up for re-election next year. But the headlines for the past two months have centered on your father’s family who are all colonists, and this has cast criticism on your mother’s ability to perform on the war committee—not to mention it being a threat to her re-election. Judging by your father’s psychological profile, he’s the one who convinced your mother to send you here to Ledmeer, and looking at your profile, you agreed out of a sense of duty to your family, and also out of fear of guilt if your mother were not re-elected. To sum it up in a clambomb, you’re here so your mom has a chance at winning next spring, and also to clear up any qualms about your family being colonist sympathizers. Now, tell me I’m not hot-damn good!”

  Javen stared at her, stunned. Her rapid-fire declaration was frightening. He wasn’t sure what disturbed him more: the fact that she’d accessed his private information, or the fact that she’d psychologically undressed him and his family predicament in less than a minute. How was that possible?

  “That’s private information,” said Javen “It should be under restricted access.”

  She grinned. “I hacked it. But that other part . . . I’m good, right? I nailed you?”

  “You prepped that,” he said. “You couldn’t have read all that just now.”

  “It’s called streaming. I don’t have to read a thing. The information goes straight to my brain—but the conclusions—those are mine, and I nailed you.” Her triumphant look softened. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

  “Don’t bother, you didn’t get it right,” said Javen.

  “Not even a day in, and you’re lying already. Makes me sad we’ve corrupted you so fast. Honest boy like you, high marks straight through school, no moral marks off. But that’s what we’re good at. Skills to survive. Can’t have a soldier transparent in the presence of the enemy.”

  Javen shook his head and stared speechless at the lieutenant. She used words like boxing gloves, and he felt as if she’d just pummeled any coherent thoughts right out of his head.

  She knew so much about him. He wondered if other cadets could hack the system like her, or if this was something she was privy to, working at ICT—whatever that stood for.

  Maybe she could hack other things too.

  Javen tried to keep a friendly face despite feeling threatened by her. “Can you tell me how I scored at the other four stations?” he asked.

  “I can, but I ain’t.” Then she smiled for the first time. “You ready for Nero’s test?”

  A voice called out from behind Javen, “Shit, that’s like asking a cockroach if he’s ready to get stepped on. No one’s ready for Nero’s test.”

  Javen turned. A lanky cadet with acne covering his face sat in one of the chairs on the far wall.

  The cadet grinned. “The name’s Roger. Nice to meet another freeborn. Are you good with a gun?”

  “I can shoot alright,” said Javen, though he could do far better than that. He’d been third in his class in marksmanship.

  “It’s like pissing. If you can’t keep it in the bowl, they’re gonna dunk your head in the toilet and give it a flush. But if you shoot straight, hit the target, you’ll do alright. Lunar war is tough—you’ll hear that over and over at this school. You’re on the inside now. All that crap you’ve heard on the media—it ain’t half of the story. The colonists on Luna are in open revolt.”

  “Then the negotiations are off?”

  “Been off for three days.”

  The news didn’t surprise Javen, he was already on the inside. His mother was part of the Senate Select Committee and worked with the twelve negotiators directly. He knew things weren’t going well. Ever since the schism between Earth and its moon colonies, the possibility of another all-out war grew more real.

  “Stupid colonists,” said Javen. “It’s not like they even have a chance.”

  “Yeah, they’re going to get what’s coming to them,” said Roger, “and it’ll be us that gives it to them.”

  Brighton leaned forward onto the reception desk. “He’s not giving anyone anything until he passes Nero’s test.”

  Javen shook his head. “Is there anyone who isn’t scared spitless of that guy?”

  “Nope, we all fear and hate him,” said Roger. “Sergeant Nero’s in charge of two things: Low Performance ICT and killing the bad seeds. When he’s not teaching, he stalks the halls with his pet orangutan—ugliest beast I ever saw, and strong as a pilled-up pit bull too.”

  Roger glanced at the lieutenant and lowered his voice. “The rumor around the academy is that he’s not allowed off the premises. Some kind of house arrest. I heard from a very reliable source that he’s under military investigation. Supposedly knifed his superior officer. ‘Course, I don’t know how much of that is true, but I know one thing for sure, the guy enjoys killing. Heck, he’s the scariest person I ever met, that’s why I’m here. Trying to test out of ICT 102 and get into Sergeant Guillen’s advanced class.”

  “So you’re saying I better do good on this test or I’ll live to regret it?”

  “Ha!” Roger laughed, “Mor
e than you know.”

  Javen smiled, “What is ICT class anyway?

  “Imagination and Creative Thinking. In-depth problem solving is all it is, but using the newest AI in the field with holograms and neurojacks. It’s the ticket to a high-level job versus front-line fodder.”

  A screech sounded from the com system over head, and Javen winced at the high-pitched noise. Then an angry male voice boomed over a speaker: “Where’s that Worth boy? He should have been in here ten minutes ago!”

  Javen felt a hot bolt of fear race down his neck. He turned swiftly to Lieutenant Brighton. She leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Sergeant Nero, Cadet Worth has been here in the lobby for fifteen.”

  “What?” replied the harsh voice. “Dammit! Send him in!”

  Javen followed Lieutenant Brighton to a door at the side of the room. She pulled out a ring of keys and began fumbling through them.

  He shook his head as he watched her, biting his tongue. He’d come on time, but Brighton had failed to tell Sergeant Nero. And now the most feared instructor at the school was pissed off.

  As the keys continued to jingle in Brighton’s hands, Javen turned to Roger. “Thought you had to take the test too?” he said.

  “My group’s after yours. I’m always early if it’s Nero. Heard too many stories of what he’s done to cadets for things less than being tardy. Always be on his good side, that’s my philosophy.”

  Beads of sweat formed on Javen’s brow and his hands went instantly clammy. The lock finally turned with a click and the door opened.

  Javen entered the long narrow room before him. There were three guys and a girl already seated. The three males glanced back, wearing amused expressions. He guessed that they, too, were like Roger, early, trying to stay on Nero’s good side.

  Why hadn’t Brighton told Nero he was there!?

  He took the closest chair behind the girl.

  “Welcome, Javen,” said a voice from behind a large machine at the front of the room. It was the same voice he’d heard on the intercom, only friendlier. Sergeant Nero wasn’t as large as Javen had pictured, but that didn’t stop him from looking like the sociopath he’d envisioned. Red hair covered his head and jaw and ran down below his neck in a thick, knotty beard. A thin, hawkish nose overhung a wide, jagged smile.

  “Sorry I was late, Sir! It will never happen again, Sir!”

  “Not your fault, son, not… your… fault,” said Nero in a tone that Javen could only call odd.

  Nero squared his shoulders to the class and patted a dark metal tube on his left. “This machine is a neuroconductor. It feeds directly into each of your desks.”

  Javen thought the machine looked like a dead metal spider, its coiled legs rising up and intersecting above Nero’s head.

  “Do you see the helmet affixed to the side of your chair? Take it and put it on. It will cover your face from the nose up. At first you won’t see anything, but don’t worry, where we’re going, eyes are just useless pustules, blindly rubbing against the most powerful organ in your body.”

  The girl in front of Javen turned and whispered, “Put this on your forehead.”

  In one swift motion, she threaded a micro thin wire under his desk and placed something in his palm.

  He glanced down at his hand. It was a small conductor.

  He hesitated only a second. He was certain her request broke some kind of rule. But he didn’t know the rules, so how could they blame him for breaking them? Besides, there had been an urgency in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore.

  Discreetly, he put the girl’s conductor on his forehead then grabbed the strange looking helmet. It had several wires running in through the back. He pressed the helmet down over his head and felt a wet, foam-like substance slide over his ears.

  The helmet formed to his cheeks and nose, cutting off all light from the test room.

  He couldn’t see a thing.

  “Helmets on? Good,” said Nero. Javen felt a stab of pain and cried out with the rest of the class.

  “That slight prick you felt in the back of your head will connect you to the room I have created in my mind. I will be taking you through a sequence of imagination exercises that will test your strengths and weaknesses; machismo and sympathy; creativity and stupidity. Once in the staging area, you are to follow my instructions without question.

  “Oh, one other thing, don’t attempt to remove your helmet. If somehow you did have the strength to pull it off, it would rip a hole in the back of your head about the size of a hand grenade. More likely you’d only jostle the needle where it doesn’t belong and then I could plant you out in the school garden next to the carrots.”

  No one laughed.

  “Okay you sons of bitches, are you ready for some fun?!”

  A living picture flashed on in Javen’s mind. It shocked him at first. He knew he was still sitting in the test room, but his senses told him otherwise. He saw Nero standing under a tall doorway rolling the tips of his fingers compulsively. The four other cadets stood beside him, looking around. The room was bare, with no other feature except the door. The girl glanced up at him, then turned to face the sergeant.

  Nero’s eyes beamed at them from where he stood. He gestured with his hand and said, “Behind this door is where you will begin the test. The room we are in now is the staging arena. Think of it like your mother. Boring, dull and ugly. I’ve designed it out of my imagination just as I’ve done with what’s waiting for you in the arena beyond this door.

  “In your first challenge, I’m going to draw from your memory bank. I think you’ll love what I have conjured up for you. Wickedly entertaining, I promise! Your memory is a collage of hundreds of regions. I’ve drawn up a special memory from your hypothalamus—the fear region.”

  Nero’s tone sent a shiver up Javen’s spine. He clenched his jaw, fighting his fear with anger. He despised the way the sergeant was talking to him and the class.

  Javen followed the other cadets as they lined up at the door. He found himself third in line. Nero placed his hand upon the first boy’s head.

  “Ah,” said Nero with a light chuckle, “You were a fat little boy once. That’ll do just fine.”

  The boy ahead of him stepped forward and Nero touched his hair. “Mmmm, sharkie darkie, peanut butter puffy, dead little doggie. Oh, there it is!” exclaimed Nero with a wheezing laugh, then pushed him forward. “Jerk off to this, Cadet Daniels!”

  Javen stepped forward as the cadet in front of him disappeared through the door. He saw Nero reach up. He felt the strong hand touch upon his head. Cold. Repulsive.

  “Oh, yes, yes,” said Nero. “Rich kid, dead kid. Goodie see red kid. Back to the past, Cadet Worth.”

  Javen practically sprang through the door, anything to get Sergeant Nero’s fingers off of him. He was glad he wasn’t the last cadet in line. He didn’t like the thought of being left alone with that man.

  Javen felt a cool, moist breeze as he passed through the door. He took a deep breath and the scent of wet wood and grass filled his senses.

  He couldn’t see anything yet, only darkness surrounded him. Then, slowly, shapes began emerging as if out of a grim fog.

  The first things he saw were slender trees.

  A pleasant warmth hung in the air as sunlight suddenly fell upon him. Tall aspens stood on either side of an old, dirt road, their leaves fluttering white and green in the breeze.

  A tug pulled in his mind. This place was hauntingly familiar.

  He was drawn to the road. As he stepped onto the path, the memory of the place resurfaced. One direction led to the ranch mansion he’d grown up in, the other led to an old, rotting cabin, and then eventually to a meadow, where a mountain stream ran down into the valley. It was in the second direction he felt drawn to go. A sinking feeling came over Javen. Many years back, something tragic had happened in that direction. Something he was ashamed of.

  Whatever waited for him down that path, he was determined to pass this test. He set off down the roa
d, be had only gone a few steps when he heard a crunching in the underbrush beside him. He stopped and scanned his surroundings. A girl stepped out.

  “Mind if I join you?” she said, falling in beside him.

  He realized it was the girl who’d threaded him the conductor. In the bright sunlight, he looked at her as if for the first time. She had a small frame and stood about five feet tall. Under her blue eyes was a weak, shadowless jaw. Strands of her thin, blonde hair ran askew across her face, blown about in the breeze.

  “Sure,” said Javen, walking on. “This is where I grew up.”

  “It’s beautiful. I love it here.” She smiled, “Thanks for saving me.”

  He felt a little unease stir in his chest. “What have I saved you from?”

  “Him. Sergeant Nero.”

  “Seems he isn’t liked by anyone,” said Javen, smirking. “What are you here for? Testing out of his class?”

  “If only I could. This is my second year. I’m in ICT 102, but I’m here serving his detention. When he gives them, he makes you take these twisted tests.”

  “What did you do?”

  “He wanted to see me after class but I ditched him when the bell rang.”

  Javen raised an eyebrow, amused. “If you hate this test so much, why didn’t you just stick it out?”

  She looked away, “If you don’t know yet, you will soon enough.”

  “I’m new here,” said Javen. “I don’t know anything. Enlighten me.”

  Her eyebrow arched, but she kept a thin smile. “Nero likes to mess with our minds if you haven’t picked that up already. At least here, he’s got a handful of us to jack with. But one-on-one, it’s hell. I have…bad memories. I did things. Things I regret now. Nero loves to replay my dirtiest sins and scrape his fingers over my deepest wounds. That’s who he is. A psychopath.”

  Javen glanced at her as they walked. “The academy lets him do this?”

  The muscles in her face grew tight. “I don’t know. I’m not going to tell on him. Everyone who’s tries ends up dead.”