Myke Cole - Shadow Ops - Control Point

“And they’re willing to destroy our lives because of it,” he went on. “We’re the same, Sarah.”

“No, we’re not the same,” she said. “I know that I did something wrong. I want to make it right. I want to serve my country.”

“What did you do wrong?” Britton asked. “You woke up one morning with a power you didn’t ask for. You decided that you might want to take a second to play with it before someone else stepped in and told you how to run your life. That’s your big crime?”

Scylla’s words echoed in his mind. We are a new race, better adapted to our environment than the old. The humans can imprison us for a time, but, sooner or later, we will rule them as surely as they rule dogs and cows. Her words were crude, but he couldn’t deny the truth in them. The thought of them being accused of crimes at all burned him.

“I killed people! I damaged property!” Downer shouted, and the OC began to empty again.

“That’s Harlequin talking,” Britton said. “I might as well gate over to his office and have him lecture me.”

“You leave him alone!” she yelled. “He took care of me. He gave me a second chance!”

“Oh, come off it. Your magic gave you a second chance,” Britton said. “You’re here for the same reason I am; the SOC wants your magic. If either of us had gone Selfer in a more common school, we’d probably be dead. Now we get to be government slaves instead.”

“I’m not a slave! I’m a Sorcerer!” Downer’s face was red.

Truelove let out a nervous, honking laugh and stepped between them. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. “We’re all in the same Coven.”

Downer ignored him and held Britton’s eyes. The SOC can force me to work for them, he thought, but they can’t stop me from making her grow up.

But not tonight. He had nothing left to give. “I’m going to hit the rack. Lots of studying to do for tomorrow.”

He stepped out into the chill air and looked up at the night sky. The huge stars winked back at him. Therese can’t help. Who knows when she’ll be able to? You’re out of choices, Oscar, they seemed to say. They’ve got you.

He shook his head and started toward P block. A hand touched his elbow. He looked down into Marty’s black eyes, surrounded with painted dots. Britton reached out to touch the creature’s head, then jerked back his hand. Would Marty take it as patronizing? What was it he had seen them do? Britton closed his eyes and bowed, tapping the lids. Marty smiled broadly, then repeated the gesture, murmuring in his own language.

“You important,” Marty said, sketching a doorway in the air with his fingers. “Special.”

Britton sighed. “Yeah, people keep telling me that. It’s not helping any.”

Marty looked at him, uncomprehending. Britton sighed. “God, what a fucked-up life this has turned out to…” He paused, then looked back down at the creature. His eyes widening.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

Because he suddenly realized that there might be a way out of this after all.

Marty stared back at him, the blue surgical mask dangling from one ear, flapping in the wind.

Britton knelt to Marty’s height. “Have you ever heard of a flesh-eating worm?”

Marty turned pensive. “…wurm?”

“It’s a worm from here. It eats muscle.” Britton thumped his chest.

Recognition dawned across Marty’s face. He corkscrewed one finger over his sternum. “Worm! I know! I know! Worm very…few. Very…important. Some in srreach room. Cold room with Doctor Captain, remember?” The research tent where they’d met Captain Hayes. Britton remembered.

He sagged with relief, sitting on the ground.

“Why?” Marty asked.

“Marty, there’s a bomb in my heart. You understand a bomb?”

Marty nodded gravely. “You”—he searched for the word—“captured.”

Britton nodded.

“Worm very…hurt you. Kill you.”

“Not with magic, Marty. Not with someone to Whisper it. Maybe it can break the bomb.” More than likely it would set the ATTD off, but that was a chance Britton was willing to take. He remembered Rampart’s words to him in the helo as they left the LZ. They live in the Source all their lives and come up Latent at around twice the rate we do.

“Do you have a Goblin buddy who can Whisper, Marty? Please tell me you do.”

Marty grinned. “I know. I important. I bring friend with magic for worm. Talk worm no kill you. Eat bomb.”

Britton grinned in spite of himself, nodding so hard his neck hurt.

“Can you help me?”

Marty was silent for a moment, then looked back up to Britton and nodded. “Secret.”

Britton grinned. “Can you get a worm? Do you have someone to Whisper it?”

Marty’s face went serious. “Difficult.”

Britton considered what he was asking. The little Goblin was not well liked on the FOB as it was. If he were caught stealing from a SOC facility…he batted it away. He had to try. He couldn’t stay there. It couldn’t be his life.

“Can you get one for me?”

Marty was silent for a moment before nodding. “You important.”

Britton smiled, then tapped his lids again. Marty repeated the gesture, then pointed to the leaves plastered to his face. “Keep on. When you no feel, take off. Keep on to sleep is okay.” He waved and trotted back inside the OC.

The potential of combat Necromancy is staggering. Your buddy goes down next to you, then five seconds later, you’re fighting his corpse. But you know what? Blinding lasers also provide combat overmatch. So do bioweapons. Just because a system provides a force multiplier doesn’t mean we ignore the ethical ramifications of employing that system. We’re the good guys. The second we forget that, we cease to be a nation we can be proud to fight for.

— LTG Amelia Dernwood, Deputy Commanding General

US Army Materiel Command, Fifth Annual Conference

on Magic and Military Ethics, Geneva, Switzerland

Therese was missing from the knot of SASS enrollees gathered around the schoolhouse as Britton entered the next morning. He strolled toward them, noting the pillbox’s closed door and Scylla’s absence from the yard. They exercised her at random intervals, different times each day, and while Britton couldn’t be sure why, he guessed it was as a security measure. The group of enrollees stood easier, though even the No-No Crew cast nervous glances toward the pillbox door and its patina of rust.

“Where’s Therese?” Britton asked Downer as he joined them. As with every morning, she was at the SASS long before he arrived. She shrugged her shoulders, and Britton turned to Wavesign. “Did she raise the flag?”

Wavesign shook his head. “A couple of soldiers came and got her this morning. No idea where she went, and Salamander won’t tell us.”

Britton’s stomach turned over. He was surprised at how deeply her absence affected him, how it worried him. He looked up at Swift as they were being ushered into the schoolhouse, and the pale man shook his head.

Britton couldn’t concentrate on the morning’s video, a longish civics lesson extolling the virtues of the US Constitution. He thought of Therese’s kindness to both him and Wavesign. Where had they taken her? Had she done something wrong? His stomach suddenly tightened into a ball. Had someone somehow overheard their conversation about the ATTD? Was that why they’d taken her? Why would they punish her and not him? As soon as the video ended, and they turned to head outside, he approached Salamander.

“Sir, where’s Therese?”

“You’re about the tenth person to ask me that question today, Novice. She’s an awfully popular gal around here. I recommend that you attend to your training and think a little less about dating. You can always chat with Scylla the next time she does her rounds of the exercise yard. I’ve noticed you two like to chew the fat.”