The Silent Army

tissue. There was movement in there. Something was forming. As I watched, small nodes began to grow.

Huma. She’d been injected. She was already carrying the serum. The mechanisms inside had realized she was dead. The nodes began to branch out, connections forming between them.

I overrode her JZI and forced a payload of adrenaline into her bloodstream. There was a chance it would kill her outright, but she was out of time. Her heart seized. For a second her vitals pegged into the red, but through the stream of warning data I saw her heart catch; it beat on its own.

“Cal, wake up!”

The components had stopped forming. Her heart began to beat regularly. She opened her eyes.

“Cal!”

“Shit …you’re here,” she said.

“I’m here.” I went to touch her shoulder, but she bat-ted my hand away.

“What happened?”

“We’re off the ship. We’re going home.”

She grimaced as she sat up and looked back out toward the ocean. The ship began to fade in the rain and the dark, and all I could see was the faint flicker of a fire on the deck.

“This is MSST. We have secured the civilians and are on our way back. We need an EMT at the landing site.”

“Roger that, MSST.”

“Detonation in three …two …one …”

The timer was still displayed on my JZI. I watched it trickle down to zero.

The flash was so bright I had to close my eyes and turn away.

13 Eddish

Calliope Flax—Mercy Greaves Medical Center

My left hand tingled. It tingled all the time, and it was cold, like the blood was cut off. I woke up to it every day. I stared in the dark and listened to the whispering.

It was still dark. I was still in the med unit, and I was still on dope. Nico managed not to kill me getting the bomb out, but he left a hell of a hole.

When I was out, I dreamed I was back in Juba. My left arm was a stump, and I grabbed my hand off the floor and threw it. The mob went for it. They fought over it and ate it. The crunching sound was burned into my brain, but in the dream, all I heard was a hiss. It was like static. When I woke up, I could still hear it. It was like a sound from deep in my head. Quiet, but steady. It made me think of voices, all whispering.

I thought it was the drugs at first. It wasn’t the drugs.

What the fuck did you do to me, Buckster?

Someone knocked on the door. I figured it was the nurse on duty, but when the door cracked, it was Wachalowski’s ugly mug I saw. He had one arm in a sling and stitches over one eye. There was stubble on his face, and he looked older than usual.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“That your FBI training?” He smiled, even though I could see it hurt.

“Can I come in?”

“Knock yourself out.”

He came in and closed the door behind him. He pulled up a chair next to my bed and sat down.

“How are you feeling?”

“How do you think?”

The whole thing got messed up. It was supposed to be easy. It was cakewalk; he was an old man. I thought I’d get in good with the Feds. I thought I’d get in good with him.

“I’m sorry, Cal.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I should never have—”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” I said. “Is that why you’re here? Because you think this is your fault? Because you feel bad?”

“No.”

“Because I swear I will fucking pop you—”

“That’s not why I came. I wanted to see how you were.”

“What are you, my dad?” I didn’t really know what I was talking about, though. I never had a dad. He didn’t answer anyway. He just smiled again, and I thought he looked relieved. It hit me, then, how tired he looked.

“I’m just glad you’re still here.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I get it.”

He was quiet for a minute, and I added, “I like you too. Fucker.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“You can get me the hell out of here.”

“You’re going to be here a little while. Sorry.”

I shrugged.

“It beats being dead. Thanks for coming to get me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, is it over?”

“No.”

“It never is.”

I looked up at him, and watched the orange light flicker in his pupils. In my head, those voices whispered. It was like wind.

“I hear things,” I told him. “In my head. I don’t think it’s from the JZI.”

He made a cutting motion across his throat, shutting me up. His face got serious.

It’s not from the JZI.

Then what? What do you know?

Something happened back on the boat.

What?

We were about to get mobbed. The revivors were homing in on you, and I needed you out to make the cut. I stopped your heart.

You stopped my heart?

I was counting on the JZI to revive you. It did—

How long was I out?

Not long. Your heart began to beat again, obviously, but for a few minutes your vitals were flat.

Are you saying I was dead?

For a few minutes, yes.

“A few minutes?” I snapped. He made the cutting motion again. “No, don’t fucking shush me—”

Cal, be quiet. It was that or they’d have torn you apart. I didn’t know you’d been injected.

Injected. I remembered Buckster and the case. I remembered the needle they stuck in my neck.

Injected with what?

Fawkes got his hands on an experimental revivor prototype developed at Heinlein Industries. It’s