Chapter 9: Step in Line, Citizen

Jack’s uncle turned to the arriving Nons and grimaced. He gestured over to the hallway beyond fallen debris. “She’s in the guest room down the end of the hall. At least, I think it’s a she — feminine face, small frame, and I thought I noticed some boobies.”

One of the Nons replied in a modulated, feminine voice, “Boobies, yes. You mentioned that already. Thanks.” Her tone was sarcastic.

“Right. Go on! Get her the hell outta here. She’s been in enough trouble. Obviously.” He looked around the destroyed area significantly.

The more front-facing Non, also in full kit, remained paused. In a voice Jack regarded as very ‘boy scout,’ he declared, “Your house will be repaired at our expense, Citizen, and the value of damages added to your account as further compensation. This is in addition to your reward for reporting and facilitating our clearance. I can say with confidence you’ve uncovered serious crimes and your reward will be significant. But-”

“What the hell is he talking about, Uncle?” Jack asked, interrupting loudly. The implication was obvious, but he remained bewildered as if slapped in the face.

Wincing and glaring at the Non, his uncle turned and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder again, eyes sober. “Son, I know more than you think. Overheard more than you think. It ain’t good, Jack. You know it ain’t good. You’re damn right I called the Mems — it was necessary. It’s what’s right. And good thing I did or we might both be goners! Maybe that’s a survivor’s instinct.”

Jack felt slapped again. “Overheard? What do you mean? You were fixing some shit-dogged tractor all evening!” His uncle’s face screwed up in response. Jack threw his uncle’s hand off him. “No. No — did you bug the fraggin' room?! What kind of sick, sick… shit…?!” He trailed off, suddenly breathless in shock and anger, searching his uncle’s face for answers.

“Damn, this is some juicy-ass shit,” the Non woman muttered under her breath. Indeed, despite the situation, the Nons were not interrupting, just watching.

“I did this for your own damn good, Jack!” his uncle exclaimed loudly, pointing a finger emphatically. “Shit, I’m protecting you! And this, coming from a man screwing around with-” He cut himself off with a hysterical bark, shaking his head. “We all got pardons, Jack, including you. Just tell them the truth, keep this shit confidential, and… Look, I know you had good intentions. It counts for something. But it’s time to move on. Half the reward is yours. It’ll probably change your life.”

“Shove your reward up your ass,” Jack replied darkly, glaring. “Seriously? You bug your fraggin' guest room?! You sick bastard.”

His uncle sighed in frustrated exasperation. “No, damn it! I had Mick… rest his soul… I had Mick stick a bug recorder from my room on the bottom of the oxygen stand. Played back some of your nonsense when I got the chance, and heard plenty, though it went to static after your laser business. It was enough to be the straw that broke the donkey’s back, sure enough. See, I knew this was no good and I knew you were keeping shit from me — and would keep on keeping shit from me! Like you had a frog in your pocket and thought I didn’t know. I always knew, boy — I always know. I helped raise your ass, you best remember that.”

Jack felt all his fire smoke out as he was stunned once more by the news. “Mick is dead?”

His uncle nodded and rubbed a hand over his face, eyes going to the debris-strewn floor. “Killed four or five of them sumbitches before taking a shot to the brain. He’s a hero.”

Guilt hit Jack like a truck. If I’d never come here, he’d still be alive. “Because of me. He’s dead because of me.”

“It’s not your fault, son. You’re a good man. They weren’t. Aren’t, I guess. A bunch surrendered. Saw one cryin’ and beggin’ for mercy.”

“If that frag-off piece of shit Tanner is alive, I’ll kill him myself.”

“No, you will not, Citizen,” the boyscout Non interjected. “I know this is a difficult situation — you have our condolences. You also have our assurance of Memoria’s compassion toward the just and her justice toward the cruel, but we need to deal with this purported anomalous person of interest ASAP. Citizen,” — and he nodded toward Jack and gestured forward — “I’d like to know what we’re walking into. Brief me on the pertinent that your uncle does not know. But in confidence, please. What you know seems likely to be classified.”

Jack just nodded rather numbly and let himself be led off closer to the hallway. Boyscout was followed by Longhair, which might’ve surprised Boyscout with how his head swiveled over to him briefly. But he didn’t protest.

“Well, she’s waiting for you, pretty much,” Jack said, trying to focus on the here and now. He felt like he’d been put through a cheese grater and reformed after so many bewildering things. “Her name is… Neexolei. Neex for short. She means no harm and is lying peacefully in the bed, ready to cooperate and be taken. She’ll obey your orders, sir. She hopes to plead a case to you all. And Memoria. But her English is a bit broken. Fair warning.”

“I see,” Boyscout said nebulously. “And she was a captive, as I understand it. What is the gist of what is happening here, to you, and the why? What sort of relations and contact have you had with her? Where is she from?”

All the dangerous stuff. “Honestly, and with all due respect, Agent Whoever You Are, I’m not sure that this intel is even within your clearance. It’s ah, incredibly significant and serious. I’m just shy of stupid enough to lie to a Memorial Agent, and if you want to order me to tell you, so be it, but I think I should throw that warning out. Sir.”

“A bold claim.”

There was a pause between them all, and Mini-Mem inserted, <I have been discreetly pinged by the ‘long-haired guy’ (Agent Nonpareil InSite) and his intra-System persona (She’s okay. Ish). I had to respond. We ‘agreed’ for them to stuff their curiosity and just transport you both out of here ASAP. This needs to be passed up the chain, Jack. I’m recommending tight lips. On the other hand, InSite is requesting communication. Approve?>

He responded by ‘mental data mode’ quickly. <No.>

“Bold but accurate, it seems,” InSite said, his voice young, light, and as smooth as butter. “Captain, I know something similar already. Would you mind if I converse in private with Jack Laker, here? Briefly.”

The captain, aka Boyscout, almost certainly frowned and glared behind his visor at InSite. “Now you’re over my head? Unbelievable. Fine. Maybe I don’t want to know at this point. The rook and I will make contact. We’re trusting your threat assessment.”

“Yes. Did she end up leveling from this?”

Boyscout was already moving, but he paused in annoyance. “Agent. How do you not know better? That question and the answer are classified! Why are we even talking out loud about it?!”

“Ah, silly me. It suddenly slipped my mind just how little Citizens know.” Irony was not exactly subtle in his tone, and Jack was certain InSite’s eyes were locked on his.

“Yeah, well, un-slip it, because loose lips sink our asses. Theirs and ours. You got that, Mr. Classified?”

“Got it, sir.”

The captain and the other Non went down the hallway. Jack’s uncle had been directed elsewhere, by appearances. Meanwhile, InSite got close to Jack and leaned in to whisper, “Okay, ‘Citizen,’ I am ordering you to turn that ‘inner no’ into an ‘inner yes.’ Does my example satisfactorily instruct you as to why?”

Jack sighed. “Yes. Agent.” <Mini-Mem, approve InSite for communication access.>

<Roger, Roger!>

Immediately, InSite was there as injected thought, with a subtle yet distinctive identity. Something like thinly restrained amazement and excitement laced his words. <Do not reveal the things you fear to, but I have to know: did your connection really just happen recently? You weren’t hiding and dodging all this time somehow? Or perhaps suppressing? Did you reject Memoria while in the sticks somewhere?>

Jack replied with a vehement negative. <I wouldn’t have said no as a kid, dude. Sir. Not a chance. I hoped for it so hard it hurt. Like most kids, I bet. But it never happened. So, yes, Agent. It’s a ‘change.’ As far as I can say.>

<Incredible. I’ve never heard of it. I wonder if it has happened before.>

<You wouldn’t know? You’re a Non.>

<Your first lesson, Jack: we’re all kept in the dark and fed on horseshit, it’s just the question of what light you’re allowed to carry. Citizens get a singular LED, and under the switch master’s control, seeing anything but rarely. Us? One of those little emergency pocket flashlights, but we get scolded if we waste the batteries too much. Stay blind for the Motherland, Soldier!>

Jack was amazed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Secrets in endless layers. Memoria. <Even a Citizen can smell shit, though.>

Amusement. <And taste. You get used to it. Especially with some seasoning.>

<I dunno, I think I’d always taste the shit, honestly.>

<Then you’ll make for a bitter Agent. Welcome to the club. We age slowly, yet we age quickly, here. You served, right?>

<Early entry, five years. I was a pilot.>

<That explains everything.> He was teasing. Any other military loved giving pilots shit.

<Yeah, yeah. Hey, look, what should I expect next? For her and me.>

<Got no idea, Jack. Even if I did, your clearance is a total unknown, so I would be better off telling you, well, jack shit until Memoria has access to both of you and can issue instructions. This is so unique I couldn’t hope to predict the results.>

Jack felt no small amount of trepidation for his reference to ‘access.’ <I hear ya. Do you mean to issue instructions to you guys or me?>

<Both, maybe. Us? Definitely. But I’m sure you’re going to report to Nimrod, maybe even Central. That is our default instruction. But I’m going to stop this while I’m ahead. Need to send another encrypted report packet before transport. Part of my role here as an intelligence specialist. Not sure Memoria is even going to believe this one. Anyway, good luck, Jack.>

<Thanks. I’ll take it.>

InSite turned and walked slowly and distractedly down the hallway where the other two went. It was not long before Boyscout was coming out with the rest behind him. Immediately behind him was Neex, who was floating over the floor in some sort of contoured forcefield cocoon suspending her, something like a thick, vibrating bubble.

“Hey, she’s not a prisoner!” Jack called, holding his hands out in annoyance. Neex winced at this.

Boyscout’s response was to pause in front of Jack. A moment later, a bubble just like what was around Neex enveloped Jack and lifted him off the ground underneath something solid. Immediately, Jack’s hands pressed against the surface in front of him. It felt like warm glass that pushed back against his hands. Everything outside was blurred and warped from inside it for a few moments, and then the space immediately in front of his eyes cleared up.

“What the frag-” Jack exclaimed.

“For everyone’s protection, Citizen,” Boyscout interjected smoothly. “As little as I get to know here, I know there is potential exotic exposure to this entity, whatever her origins. Your contact appears to be the heaviest. Everyone involved will be screened full spectrum — physically, mentally, and emotionally — to ensure health and wholeness for all. You are lucky enough to be given priority along with your strange friend and will be extracted to Fort Nimrod. The very top of the Great Tower, citizen. Your cooperation is appreciated.”

Jack grit his teeth to avoid saying something snide. Back to military ‘discipline,’ is it? I dunno if I can stomach it right now. “Oh, you bet. So happy to help. Carry on, sir.” He saluted emphatically.

Nope. Not snide at all.

Boyscout simply nodded, though, and continued walking. Jack’s bubble fell in line immediately behind Neex, who gave him a firm, supportive smile, even as her skin was rippling and discoloring in nervousness, with her pupils squiggling like crazy. As his bubble was turning, the Non immediately behind him giving way was the shorter, more feminine one, who waggled her gloved fingers at him silently. InSite was in the rear, but there was no clear reaction from him.

For Neex’s benefit, Jack reached out with the brain-speech, trying to send strength and comfort somehow, though he had no idea what he was doing. “It’ll be alright, Neex. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Neex seemed exasperated. “I’m worried about you, Jack! You’re… frayed. You need rest, food, meditation, and so on. I’m considering a list.”

Despite himself, Jack laughed out loud, which probably made him seem like a madman. He didn’t care. He was alive. She was alive. He’d done something worth a shit. He could hold to that, he could believe it. “Go ahead and compile it. Hopefully, I can check a few off soon.”

“I’d really like that, Jack.”

Like a procession, they walked past the spot Wall-of-Ooze had once occupied with his bulk, and then beyond into the huge hole that had once been the front of the house. The door was nowhere to be found, and the truck was still lodged inside the building, ruined from brick support structure impact somewhat, but even more in the front where it had ended up slamming into his uncle’s steel armory vault.

That had perhaps not been anticipated and had halted the levi-vehicle, crushed inward from the front, with the vault knocked backward off of its supports. It was still technically upright, though weapons were spilled out from the bottom and some crushed under it.

Like a damn wrecking ball caved the place in.

There were strange pillar-like ‘material’ supports throughout, apparently power-engineered temporary efforts to avoid any further collapses. What material it was, he didn’t know, but it was off-white, smooth, and possibly plastic or resin.

They passed two Nons — he thought they were Nons, anyway — going the way they’d come, one holding a huge, egg-shaped metal contraption. He pondered that for a moment before he realized.

Ah! The heart. Containment for the heart. Neex must’ve been instructed to leave it.

The place was crawling with fully kitted-out armored soldiers rather than just Nons. The armor was similar but thicker, and they carried assault rifles on slings. Agent Exemplars; special ops military elite, one step down from a Non. Some said there were natural agents just as good as a Non. Jack figured that was probably rare but true on some levels. If a well-placed sniper round could get the job done, for instance, then a non-Non specialist was the most efficient option.

A non-Non? Heh.

In any case, most of those present kept a wide berth from the procession — probably due to orders about exposure.

There were three large armored transports outside — Q-90s, which were pure, super-fast levitation vehicles relegated to the inner territories. They looked like angular stealth bombers with stubby wings, but somehow even darker and more menacing. To catch sight of one as a civilian was rare and noteworthy.

Jack had trained with one as a stepping stone to the hybrid vehicles he piloted out to the frontiers. Q-90 operation was simple enough — the job was a gravy train type a lot of guys would kill for since risk was minimal, but most roles had high clearance required. What Jack remembered most was the integrated ‘override.’ Memoria, or some subroutine of hers, could take complete control of those vessels when she wanted to.

There were also half a dozen or more smaller Q-23s like devil babies of the Q-90s, though it was more half-jet, half-car. These seated up to five passengers and were regarded as the iconic ‘Memcar,’ much more likely to be seen around New Babylon. One wouldn’t know if a Q-23 contained Nons or just some other Memorial agents.

People were everywhere as agents corralled criminals and questioned farmers. A bunch of soul-crushed-looking men in camos were on the ground, in combined handcuffs and leg restraints to prevent running, guarded over by agents with heavy electro-laser rifles — the ones that supposedly could be ‘dialed up’ to lethal.

Jack caught sight of the man who filled him with rage to see. “Tanner!” Jack called, slapping the forcefield with his hand. “You worthless pile of shit! Looking forward to your next pilot? Huh!? It might be the last trip you take! Bye-bye, asshole!”

Tanner looked up, presumably recognizing Jack through the containment bubble. Tanner was dirty, bruised, and miserable — he’d evidently put up a fight to get away. Fought and failed. With a sickly, haunted expression, the doomed man turned his head away, not responding to the taunt at all. For once, he had nothing to say.

Jack felt his lips curling in a snarl. Somehow, the reaction didn’t satisfy him. There was just an empty feeling inside. He couldn’t process why. Maybe he did want to kill Tanner himself? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he wanted that to be true. It did feel hypocritical somehow. But he knew that if he got his hands on the man, he could literally tear him apart. He really could.

The young Non woman behind him giggled. “Wow, you got some spirit, my guy. Pretty presumptuous, though, right? You can’t possibly know what we’ll do with him.”

Jack turned himself awkwardly in the bubble, but his ‘view panel’ didn’t adjust, so she was mostly a humanoid blur. “Do you know?”

“More or less.”

“But you can’t tell me.”

“ ‘Can’t’ is such a strong word. I think ‘shouldn’t’ is better, since Mommy considers it naughty enough for reprimand.” Her voice had a touch of sarcasm. “I’m tempted to trade you for why the blazes you’re important enough to haul out of here on a dime, all hush-hush-hush.”

In-Site scoffed audibly. “It’s not worth it, Lighthouse. You’re too green to understand the guilt trip potential. We get hit exactly where we’re trained to hurt.”

“Where’s that?” Jack had to ask.

Lighthouse appeared to cover her hand right over her heart, and said in a ‘dramatic,’ faux-agonized tone, “In the civilian!”

In-Site barked an incredulous laugh. “Basically, yeah. The consequences of breaches are worse on citizens than our ilk.”

Jack didn’t want to push the envelope at that point, so he shifted the subject. It was a good distraction anyway. “So, ‘Lighthouse,’ huh? Intriguing name.”

With a sigh, Lighthouse grunted noncommittally. “It was an insult, actually. ‘I could see you a mile away!’ Nyah nyah nyah! So on. I was kind of a loser with the way my shit worked at first, ya know? But then I said frag it, I’ll just embrace it. Way too late to change now, anyway. Eh. It is what it is.”

“I think it's a fantastic name,” In-Site said. “According to my precise and infallible calculations, you should take pride in it.”

“Whatever, Nerd,” Lighthouse replied lightly, in clear familiarity.

“Hate to cut this edge-running chatty Nonsense short,” Boyscout said wryly as they stopped next to one of the Q-23s, “but you two: can it and go silent. Jack Laker, if you have questions, address them to me. Also? No questions. Does everyone understand these instructions?”

“Yessir!” came two dutiful replies. Jack added his own as a third, somewhat late. And then Neex did later still, miming them uncertainly. Lighthouse snickered.

Any humor Jack had was banished when they went around to the back of the vehicle and it opened upward to reveal a thick containment sphere like an airlock, defying his expectation for the vessel. Smoothly, Boyscout moved the bubble containing Neex into it, the width of it expanding and the height contracting to fit, as Neex was made to sit down.

“Hey, what the hell is this?!” Jack exclaimed in protest. “You can’t put her in there! Alone?! You can’t put her in there alone!”