The nasal-voiced white coat reminded him, “Her safe return is a condition of our alliance.”
“By the time we have the Never Tree, I can't imagine Hoffman will matter,” the small man dismissed him.
“That is highly inadvisable attitude. Our studies have confirmed witness reports—sentient aquatic lifeforms have an innate ability to manipulate anomalous matter.”
The Admiral cut to the chase, “They make miracles, got it, Rinstien?”
“But sir,” the confident woman interjected. “Our informant is no longer an aquatic life form, and no longer anomalous at all, as far as our researchers can tell.”
“Yes, but—” the white coat began.
She ignored him. “Does she even have the capacity to uphold the terms of the alliance and deliver us to the Essential Capital? Do her governing anomalies even still require her to uphold her promises?”
“The Chief Anomalous Officer thinks so,” the Admiral answered. “We're not here to think, we're here to act, so let's act.”
“What are your orders, sir?”
“We need that Essential Capital and we need it now. I want a SLAT team on shore now.
“Special Lawyers and Tactics?”
“Unless you know a better way to reduce anomalies, Rinstien. Forget the Captain's order—we'll dissolve whatever we have to in order to get to the Essential Capital. What's happening with the enemy ship?”
“It appears to be retreating, sir,”
“Good. What's on the anomaly radar, Locke?”
“Nothing waterborne,” the woman replied, “but the anomalies on land are too densely packed to decipher on screen. It's overpowering our anomaly reduction devices, even. Aside from the concentrated and weaponized anomolium ammo, we have no means of suppressing anomalies.”
“They want to play with magic, eh?” the Admiral asked. He turned to Rinstien and told him, “Unleash Chemical W.”
“Uh, sir, no,” the white coat objected. “As the presiding science officer, I must advise against that course of action. Chemical W is a highly unstable gas and is impossible to dilute. It is the consensus of my team that in the presence of the Essential Capital it may feed on the anomalous matter and multiply.”
“Good!” the Admiral announced, banging his hand again on the war table. “I want one of those gas clouds for every child and creature on the island, and I want a new ground team ready for deployment to bring back whatever that thing catches for us.”
“Sir, releasing Chemical W threatens to confuse and disorient our troops, too. They have not had sufficient training in deflecting the effects of gaseous anomalies. Furthermore it might escape our control. In such an anomaly dense environment, it may re-learn its ability to capture and transport individuals beyond our capacity to retrieve them.”
“They're already confused and disoriented!” the Admiral roared. “I'm sick of my men falling prey to the will of the island. I say we send in the will-o-the-wisp and see what those juvenile delinquents make of that!”
“But sir—”
“That's an order!”
The science officer fell silent, and the room with him. While they hashed out the technical practicalities of this untested weapon, Gwen held a hand over her mouth for fear her shaking breaths would give away her hiding place. Her heart rattled inside her chest, but she didn't rattle so much as a single raincoat inside the locker.
Once everyone had their orders, Rinstien timidly suggested, “Don't you think we should consult the Captain?”
The Admiral snapped at the woman, “Commander Locke, you're in charge of consulting the Captain. Go inform him he's been consulted—and give him something to do to keep him out of our way. Have him triangulate our position until the CAO is ready to discuss the next phase with him.”
“That's absurd,” the white coat announced. “Our best men can't make sense of the island's cardinal directions. It is as if it warps space-time such that we're a point moving along a line, not a two-dimensional geographic space.”
The Admiral had no interest in the technical explanations for what kept Neverland in such an usual location, unchanged by time. “Then it'll keep the Captain busy, won't it? Go to it, Commander.”
Commander Locke had no issue with her orders, so she marched out the door and the rest followed, flashing by the slats Gwen peered out from. Short, shouted-down Rinstien and the bitter, bald-head Admiral both looked more confident than the terrified science officer in his submissive silence.
Once the heavy naval door slammed shut behind them, Gwen's shadow glided out of the locker. It waited for her, but Gwen held her hand over her mouth and continued to shake in terror.
Chapter 32
Gwen stepped out of the locker, but felt as though she was crawling. It didn't help that the locker's metal door had locked her in and she needed her shadow to help her open it.
She didn't know what to do with the information she'd overheard. Still clutching the blue token she now knew represented her, she saw how white her knuckles had become. She stole the piece, stashing it in her purse. They weren't going to decide what happened to her. They didn't get that power over her—nobody did.
Her shadow's head peeked out the door and signaled to Gwen that the hall had emptied out. She fled the operations room, and ran to keep up with her shadow.
“Where are we going?” she hissed. The shadow didn't break pace, but emphatically waved her on. She stayed several steps behind, always making sure she knew what hall she might dart down or what door she might slip into if the shadow spotted oncoming crew members.
The ship creaked and heaved with the sound of metal and steam—nothing at all like Starkey's antique wooden ship. This was a monster that had no place in Neverland. The tight corridors and industrial pipes had no romance, or any hint of adventurous charm.
Neverland knew that even villains needed charisma and even antagonists could be noble and exciting in their own nefarious way. Reality stripped enemies of this sole redeeming value, reducing them to vile, almost mechanical cogs in the order of things. Reality was not a story. It had no poetry to its evils.
Her shadow motioned her to
