There had been something borderline repugnant about that sense of protection I felt when waking up and seeing Damien’s chaotic gray eyes stare down at me, covered in red and black blood.
Ruenova’s words were echoing in my head these past three weeks: Both of you are irreplaceable for your teams, be irreplaceable for each other. I knew initially I had wanted to blame him, he had made a bad call. But I failed in explaining my logic, because there was none other than gut feeling. He wouldn’t know to trust that like I did, not until I proved my worth to him.
His reasoning to not leave Cole’s body was still on my thoughts. It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it. I was beginning to realize his words were better interpreted through tone rather than the literal words themselves. In this entire month here on Colony Negative, I thought he never showed fear. He did in his tone. Others would let their voices shrink and waver. His voice grew stronger, enhancing his pitch with one of authority when he felt fear in his veins.
He was the face of true leadership, of never asking someone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. He wanted his men and women to follow him by example. He wanted to instill diligence in his agents to never leave someone behind. That meant he feared getting left behind. I knew if all hell broke loose and Damien took a laser bullet to that thick skull of his…his men would panic and run. I knew it, and so did he.
I didn’t have the physical capacity to pull a man like him out of danger. Sometimes, it wasn’t about strength it was about sheer will. We both had that tenacity, that will. Did we have it for each other? Could we?
No.
“You seem distracted today, Jack,” Angelique noted over our video call, piping through our little conversation which was mostly just listening to her drawl about work.
“Am I inattentive? Sorry, I’m just…confused. I’ve tried getting along with people, but you know how it is…” I sighed, running one hand through my hair with frustration.
“I don’t know what that’s like,” she laughed, “Tell me.”
“It’s this lead agent, Damien. He’s hotheaded, egotistical, borderline psychotic. We’ve just been butting heads lately. All this science in my head pinpoints him as this dangerous guy who goes against everything I’m trying to fix. I’m to get rid of people like him, trying to create peace.”
“I see,” Angelique paused, “have you thought of not treating him like some scientific subject?”
“What? Of course. I mean, he’s human, I don’t study him.”
“Yes you do,” she stated bluntly, “I know you. You study everyone. You calculate risks in people but even you know statistics aren’t foolproof. There’s room for error or improvement. I think you need to start listening to him, from his own voice.”
“Whenever I ask him a question it feels like I bother him, or I invade his sense of privacy, or even worse question his authority,” I shook my head, feeling defeated.
“Do you question his authority?”
“I…I well I did. But, it’s different now I suppose. In an odd sense, I trust him to handle what we are dealing with,” I explained.
“Have you told him that?”
“And let it go to his big head?” I scoffed, before seeing her point.
My latest organic chemist walked in, with two plates of food to my desk. David. Tall, thin, blonde and charming. Too charming, though. He was eager to take over as the lead chemist on the team, but he didn’t take the whole anathema situation seriously. I lost a good section of my team all due to their unknown. David was more worried about making good impressions than his work. Science was never a popularity contest.
“Afternoon, some guy just dropped off lunch for you, and a note,” David explained with confusion. He placed down the plate, which was a mouthwatering, steaming portion of lasagna. I suppose I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I stared at it.
“Some guy?” I questioned.
“Yeah. He wanted to deliver it to you specifically but I said you were busy. Tall, broad, muscles larger than my damn head, borderline aggressive-”
“Damien,” I sighed, seeing him nod.
“Yeah that was his name, how’d you know?”
“You described him pretty well, thank you,” I nodded, taking the note from him. David looked like he was about to pull the chair out in front of him and have us eat together. But staring in his eyes, silently demanding him not to do that, was intimidating enough for him to realize I didn’t like eating in front of others.
“Enjoy your lunch,” David smiled, taking his plate and rushing off.
I sighed for a moment, getting up to lock the door before glancing at the note.
Wayne says your pleasure meal is lasagna. He also says you haven’t had lunch lately. NOT GOOD. Can you meet me at the training area at 1600?
I could hear his humorous berating voice through his own handwriting, which was neater than I thought it would be. Damien must’ve spoken with Wayne, who was the head chef here. Wayne was just one of those men that got along with everyone, that believed food was made from love, and just could do no wrong. Anyone who had a problem with Wayne, was a problem themselves. Damien had probably tried to do some digging on me, even if it was my favorite food.
Yet, I didn’t know a single thing about him. There was no graveyard where I could dig up the skeletons in his closet. Damien was making an effort, in his unique way, and I figured I had to as well. And not in a scientific way.
“Is there something you’re not telling me about? He brought you lunch?” Angelique hinted. I almost forgot I was still on the call with her.
“What? Gross, Angie, don’t ever suggest that,” I feigned a gag.
“Do you at least have a photo of him?” she asked with excitement. I rolled my eyes but nodded, grabbing my other datapad to scan through the District Five directory for an image of him. Of course he was in dress uniform, highly decorated, clean shaven, a serious face with a hint of that little humorous smirk.
“Here,” I turned to show her.
“Jack! Holy shit!”
“What?!” I asked, “Did you know him?”
“No! But if you don’t tap that…”
“Ugh, you’re insane and he’s revolting,” I actually gagged this time.
“Alright, I’m just teasing. But you know, he’s pretty decent looking. And he’s protective, like you’ve mentioned, and brave…those are qualities, positives in all the negatives you see in him. I think you’re viewing him from either a faulty perspective…or a fearful one. You fear getting to know him.”
“Getting to know him means he gets to know me. He works in military intelligence, and can dig up whatever he wants without consequence. If I give him an inch of my past, he can uncover a mile of it, things I’m not willing to share,” I sighed, my fork gently cutting into my food.
“Jack, I can’t be the only person to know your burdens…” Angie pointed out.
“I know, that’s not fair to you,” I agreed.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know why,” she disagreed, “Look, enjoy your lunch. Play nice. If you want to make a world full of peace and love and comfort, you have to be those things too.”
She ended the call with a smile, and all I saw was my own reflection. She was right. She was always right.
I finished the lasagna in its entirety before taking the next two hours to go through research papers on any key-words possibly relatable to the anathema. Mad Cow Disease. Fungal parasites. Mutants. Nothing was really close or profound enough to stand out. I could only relate to the anathemas with what I knew about them, which at the moment was very little.
I arrived at the training arena early, sneaking in through the back quietly. Damien was giving a presentation of a more physical nature, which was much his style with the laser blades. He noticed my presence, offering a small nod before continuing with showing how to properly strike without losing a lot of energy.
“Again, I need to make it clear especially to the new team members here, this is not a toy. This is a tool, one given out of generosity. We were lucky to have these at our disposal, train with them, and ultimately, protect ourselves. Use this luck, make the enemy realize their luck has run short,” he demanded.
“We will conduct training rotations for the next two weeks until we go back out. Acid Squad always gets to the gym in the morning. Bomb Squad, you’ll be working on sword work with the training exercises I’ve now given you. Death, you’ll be at the range. Even if our guns aren’t lethal to these anathemas, we need to keep our aim sharp. Excise, you start out with sharpening your extensive knowledge and checking gear, whether you’re a bomb tech, weapons master, or recon specialist. Hone your skill. You were all chosen individually for a reason. Those four training sessions will be rotated throughout the day, hopefully giving you plenty of downtime after dinner. Any questions?”
None. As usual. I didn’t know if that meant he was just very good at explaining or if people feared asking him questions. Maybe both. But Damien seemed the type of leader to encourage questions, because he wouldn’t want to hear it out on the field.
“Good, you’re dismissed for the day,” he nodded and the entire room of agents began moving around and about for their gear. A few greeted and nodded at me as they left, acknowledging my presence.
Grimes had walked over drenched in sweat, smiling softly at my presence.
“Jack, how are you doing?” he asked politely.
“Fine, your boss needed to speak with me,” I explained, “how are you?”
“Oh, what about?” He seemed confused. I glanced over to see Damien explaining something to a new female agent under his group. And not just…talking but signing? The woman was deaf, apparent with the earpiece probably to hear his presentation. But up close and personal, it was clear she communicated better with signing. Damien looked more than happy to oblige.
“Not sure,” I answered, slightly surprised that even he didn’t know. Grimes and Damien seemed close, like brothers in that military sense not necessarily blood or by family. “I never asked…you have a distinctive pattern of an octopus on your gear. What does it mean?”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
I hoped it wasn’t some military sexual innuendo or something crude like that. But Grimes only smiled.
“Well, my parents were originally from District Two, you know, the Oceania Colonies. They didn’t talk about it much growing up, so when I joined Milithreat and such, I used all the intelligence to know more about them. Kinda like what you do, all that research. At the time, I had been feeling lost as to who I was, who I wanted to be.”
“The past has an odd way of filling the future, even a past where we weren’t born yet,” I agreed.
“Exactly. I learned about my grandparents and their history, the history of my people. They used to live in this tropical colony, fish for days, and just…it sounded so nice. It sounded peaceful, you know? I’m a very big guy, always intimidating. It was nice to find out that it seemed like a really good community. The octopus was seen as an animal to admire, it was flexible, dextrous, strong, but also knew how to hide. I thought it looked cool.”
“It does look cool,” I nodded, seeing his smile remain. I suppose I fell prey to the same stereotypes others did. I thought Grimes to be fairly intimidating and rough…but he was in fact quite the opposite.
“My parents found it a bit disrespectful, you know, being refugees and all. But I thought it was a nice touch. Can’t please them all the time,” he laughed and I agreed with that last statement, “You sure you’re holding up okay? I know it feels like our days have been easy, can’t be easy on your end.”
“It’s our job, it’s not easy but that’s why we do it,” I explained, seeing Damien approach out of the corner of my eye.
“Still…it’s a bit of a nightmare,” Grimes sighed, “I should go clean up. Have fun you two.”
“Fun?” Damien asked, watching him leave, “What did you say we were doing?”
“Another psych evaluation,” I teased seriously, seeing Damien’s eyes go wide before realizing I was just joking.
“Hard to tell when you’re joking with such a straight face,” he pointed out, which was him just pointing literally at the mask. .
“Want to tell me why you wanted to meet?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Straight to the point,” he sighed, “Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” he asked again.
“Really. The whole entire plate. I was almost waiting for a smoothie to come in and finish off the joke,” I rolled my eyes. That seemed to make him laugh, a smile forming on his lips.
“Come with me to supply, I have something to show you,” he nudged his head to follow, which I did by his side. He probably half expected me to walk behind him, yet left plenty of room for me to walk alongside him down these narrow halls.
“I didn’t know you could sign. It’s a useful language,” I pointed out, trying to find something to compliment him on. I had to make him feel the least bit welcome around me, right?
“Sabbath…” he began to speak but paused as a few staff walked by, waiting for them to leave, “well, their entire training program was dangerous. A lot of kids became deaf or blind or an amputee. Deaf students still had their uses, according to Sabbath. I learned because I wanted to communicate with my compatriots.”
He seemed hesitant when he spoke. Either there was more to his words, or he was trying to water it down for me. He didn’t need to, but maybe it was more for him than me.
“Still, it’s admirable,” I pointed out, “It shows despite certain limits you wish to make things as equitable as possible.”
“Thank you,” he answered genuinely, “who was the idiot that took your lunch, the new blonde guy?”
“David, one of the chemists working with the geolists on materials found on Colony Negative. I think his reputation and curriculum vitae don’t make him an idiot,” I pointed out.
“Well he was very adamant that he deliver the food. He said I wasn’t allowed in the lab, which I didn’t know was a rule,” Damien shrugged.
“He said that?”
“Would I lie?” he glanced at me.
“Maybe, but not about something like that,” I chuckled softly, “you are more than welcome in the lab, just keep your hands to yourself. I don’t need you touching anything in there or making a mess. But you should feel inclined to observe our progress. Better yet, a fresh pair of eyes that don’t necessarily have a scientific lens wouldn’t hurt.”
“Alright, I’ll keep the invitation in mind,” he hummed.
“You know, you could also just send me a message to come meet you. A note wasn’t necessary, nor the food,” I pointed out but remained gentle in my tone. I didn’t want him to think I was upset by it, but I didn’t want him to think he had to jump through hoops to gain my attention.
“I thought messaging you privately might be inappropriate,” he explained.
“Hah! And your alternative method didn’t seem so either?”
“Well, would you have eaten if I hadn’t sent you food?” he questioned, badging into the supply room before holding the door open for you.
“Maybe,” I lied, knowing I probably would’ve gotten lost in my work. That’s usually what happened. I’d get hungry but just so involved, by the time I glanced up it was mid or late afternoon and figured dinner would suffice as enough.
“Sure, okay,” he saw right through my deceit, “alright, stand right here and close your eyes.”
I wasn’t really particularly fond of this game. He walked over to a box, turning around to see I wasn’t closing my eyes. Of course, it resulted in that amused look on his face, followed by a roll in his eyes.
“So, you trust me enough to kill these anathemas, and enough to protect you, but you won’t close your eyes?” he questioned.
“I do trust you,” I sighed, knowing he had planned this exactly like this to prove it. I put my hands out, closing my eyes. I had to practically pray in my own thoughts he wouldn’t place something disgusting in my hands.
“Good girl,” he teased, which only made me scoff.
I heard him pry that wooden box open, and then the sound of a zipper.
“You know, a sound like that might make it a bit hard to trust you,” I murmured, but with a small smile.
“As if I’d try such a thing,” he scoffed, “you are the last person in this entire universe I’d want to see me naked.”
“Good to know,” I hummed, soon feeling an object slowly be placed in my hands. It was heavier than expected. One of Damien’s hand held below my own, the other steadying the semi-circular item. I figured feeling that alone was enough to open my eyes, seeing a helmet in my hands.
“I thought I told you-”
“Yes yes, helmets and masks don’t work. I’m not deaf, you know,” he rolled his eyes, slowly moving his hands, “take a look at it.”
When I glanced inside, I could see what he was talking about already. And, well, my tablet vibrated with a connection status. He had gotten this helmet to calibrate with the chip in my neck, the same one that had worked with my mask. He created them to be compatible with each other. I placed it on gently, despite not wearing the appropriate clothes underneath, but I could feel it fit quite comfortably.
The mask connected with the filtration status of the helmet, almost as if molding as one. I could immediately remove the front glass panel of the helmet if needed, or adjust it entirely so it could collapse into my armor if needed. I was trying to find a single flaw within it, yet couldn’t find one at all. Angelique was right, I had to stop looking for flaws and highlighting them as warning signs. I had to look at everything else.
“Thank you,” I spoke softly, glancing up at him. He smiled softly, almost surprised by my reaction.
“You’re welcome. I had some Militech armor engineers figure it out. Someone had to find a solution so we don’t have you lose more brain cells with my exemplary driving,” he joked, “a lot of us can handle losing a few brain cells. You, however, aren’t allowed to lose a single one.”
“Wow, a compliment,” I joked, thinking for a minute, “How did they get the exact technological information regarding my chip?”
I saw his smile fall slightly, a guilty look on his face appearing. Right. I knew somehow in this entire gift of his, he stumbled somewhere.
“You hacked into the files of my datapad?” I asked sternly.
“No. No. I…well you might’ve left your monitor on at your workstation really late at night. I figured the file was there and it was. I promise, I didn’t look at anything else. I only sent them what they needed, which was two files,” he rubbed the back of his head with embarrassment.
I felt a surge of frustration before thinking: is it that big of a deal? Yes, he invaded my privacy completely, but if he was being honest about only looking at those things, then it was fine. Besides, I didn’t have anything else about me or anything non-work related on that system. He wouldn’t have found anything remotely sensitive to be that worked up over.
He was expecting backlash, but I only took a deep breath, “Well, apology accepted.”
“Oh, I didn’t know I was apologizing,” his face lit up in slight surprise, followed by a slight smirk.
“Next time, just ask.”
“And ruin the surprise?” He gasped dramatically before calming down, going back to that blank, stern look of his, “Look, I know nobody else here knows about you being the only reason we have these laser swords. I know it would kill you inside if everyone knew, but I wanted to show my appreciation.”
“I didn’t really do it for you, or them, I suppose,” I shrugged, “I did it for significantly higher chances of survival.”
“Higher chances for yourself or…?”
“Everyone,” I quickly corrected.
“Right. Everyone,” he nodded slowly. He didn’t really believe me.
“So, you want me to close my eyes and trust you…but you don’t trust me?” I retorted, placing the helmet aside, “That doesn’t sound fair.”
“I do trust you,” he admitted.
“What’s the problem then? If you don’t see me an equal-”
“Will you stop putting words into my mouth?” he interrupted, crossing his arms, “I see you as my equal, alright? And what happened with bringing Cole’s body back, it won’t happen again. If out in the field we need to argue to compromise then so be it. I am willing to compromise.”
“So am I,” I reminded him, “Look, I know our first day out was you taking control. I know that. When enemies or anathemas are around, I know to shut up and follow your orders. When they’re eradicated, you can let me do my work.”
I saw the hesitation in his eyes at my last sentence. He had a lingering question on his mind, and I had a feeling it had to do with Owen’s little spat after Crowe’s killing. Damien still didn’t know why I was being targeted and he felt he was owed an answer.
“What are you looking to find here in this data?” he asked gently, finally admitting what he had wanted to ask.
“I’ve already answered this. Look, I didn’t uncover a cure for cancer intentionally. I don’t think there’s anything I’m specifically looking for here. This Colony is our point of origin. Not just District Five, Three, or Sabbath. Everyone.”
“These anathema’s surely aren’t our ancestors,” he scoffed, not at me but certainly at our difficult situation.
“They very well could be,” I corrected him, “I don’t know what they stand for, what the goal is. All I know is we need to figure out what happened.”
“Okay, say you do find out, say someone played with genetics to create these things. Your data could very well give someone the same tools to do that with anyone.”
“And there it is. There you go again with scientists being the bad guys,” I scoffed, “You don’t trust me.”
“I do! I don’t trust whomever you give that data to. Do you understand? We now know what’s on here, other Districts are beginning to pull out. Why does SBH really want you to stay? Why couldn’t you just leave this place alone?!” He inquired, “If it were up to me, I’d just nuke this entire colony with all those anathemas so they wouldn’t hurt anyone else again.”
“It’s not up to you, though, is it?! You could annihilate something important. I get it, Damien, you want to know the answer to fucking everything. Everything you do, every order you follow has to have some purpose behind it. Is that what Sabbath did to you, did it make you question your authority?”
“You know what, I’m done here, enjoy your helmet,” he scoffed, moving to leave. I immediately beat him to the door, blocking him. It was probably to no avail, given he could easily overpower me. I could see my words had upset him, and that’s what he was trying to hide.
“You don’t know what went on there, the things I did, the things I saw. What if that data you produced about cancer was given to them, given to Sabbath? They would have easily made it more dangerous,” he shook his head.
“What if I’m looking for something that eliminates Sabbath entirely?” I asked immediately, seeing the look of surprise on his face, “What if I can find something that eliminates your pain? Eliminates the pain of future children to come that live under Sabbath domain?”
“Impossible.”
“What if, though?” I beckoned, “I know Sabbath isn’t here, not physically. They’d rather watch all the District’s brightest and greatest of soldiers and scientists fall at the hands of alien abominations. Look, our ancestors fought wars with the belief that it was to better the life of their children. Clearly, that hasn’t worked. We need to try something different, we need to look at what the data tells us.”
“You need to be careful who you speak about this to,” he spoke lowly, stepping closer to me.
“Why do you think I’m telling you?” I whispered. If anyone could hate Sabbath, it had to be him. “You could be right. We could spend months or years here and maybe find nothing. We could get no answers, lose people and money and supplies just like the other Districts and return home defeated. Even failed experiments have their purpose, Damien. But I, just as badly as you if not more, want this to succeed.”
“This stays between us,” he whispered in return, “I’m not the only de-transitioned Sabbatical here.”
“You have my word,” I promised, “Do I have yours? Your team questions my motives.”
“This kind of information is on a very marginal need to know basis, one they’re not entitled to. Yes, you have my promise,” he agreed. There was concern in his eyes, and it was on the basis of this information leaking. He was very quiet about Sabbath, especially around others. His shock at me finding out was one he couldn’t avoid. Militech executives might know of his origins, given they recruited him.
But others in Colony Negative didn’t. What was there to fear? What did he know that he wasn’t telling me?
“Thank you, again, for the helmet,” I whispered, knowing my attempts at remaining calm around him almost felt futile. But I did my best not to berate him, just as he had done his best to control his anger.
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he nodded, his eyes gazing down at me with this softness. There was something there we both realized, amidst the end of this conversation, we were now beginning to understand each other. It felt like maybe our goals were aligned, our objectives fairly similar, but our means of getting there varied dramatically. Damien wanted Sabbath gone. I wanted them gone, along with the idea of them, the idea of greed, colonialism, of hate and violence.
Damien just wanted to use violence to eradicate itself. I’d have to let him, in terms of these anathemas. Beyond that, though, he’d be wrong to think he could liberate the world with the very thing that enslaved it. I could also be wrong to think that my liberation would fall on ears willing to listen.
If Sabbath and its ideals were to eventually come crashing down, I knew Damien Rok would be annihilated along with the rest, unbeknownst to him.
And…I was okay with that.