Chapter 8: Everybody Hurts

When your day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough
Of this life, well hang on

Schwartz snapped to attention as soon as he entered the conference room on Virdon's heels. "Colonel?" he asked when the other man slammed his fists into the table, leaving dents in the heavy wood.

Virdon tried to get his anger under control, squeezing his hands into tight balls before he whirled on the Chief. "What the hell happened back there, Chief?"

"Major Burke needed to be brought in, Sir."

"And I was bringing him in—" He began pacing in short turns; every muscle his body felt taut, like a wire waiting to snap.

"All due respect, Sir, no you weren't. He's been compromised. The abomination has too strong a sway on him."

"Abomination?"

"The winged creature. The hybrid," he spat the word.

Virdon shook his head. "But you're a machine," he threw back in the same tone, looking pointedly at where white fluid still oozed sluggishly from the bullet hole in his chest. "Or so I'm guessing. That round barely slowed you down!"

"Biomimetic synthetic, Sir. We were created in the image of Man, in the same perfect form. The hybrids believe that they have improved on the human form, that they are superior. They were the ones who started the Last War, who created things that never should have been. And if they gain access to the Pile, who knows how much more damage they could do."

"Synthetic?" Virdon repeated, his eyes growing wide. He stopped pacing. "We? How many of you? Why wasn't that part of the briefing earlier?"

Schwartz continued his straight ahead stare. "Standard base protocol, Sir. All enlisted personnel are synthetics, commissioned officers are organics. Our function is to preserve the lives of the organics. The hazards of the Pile don't affect us."

Virdon slowly sank down onto a chair as the full implication of the last few minutes hit him. Burke and Zeke had been taken elsewhere while Schwartz had escorted Virdon back to his quarters. Both his friends had been unconscious, possibly injured. And he was responsible. Why had he done those things? Everything was moving so fast, spinning out of control. He felt like he was grasping at phantom reins to try to pull everything back from a precipice.

"Colonel, our duty is to protect the Pile. Keep it safe for the restoration of the rightful government of the United States. That city is dangerous. They have the technology to create weapons."

Virdon shook his head. "They may have the technology, but not the desire. They are peaceful; they're more worried about what could be used against them."

"Are you sure, Sir? Someone once said, 'The best defense is a good offense.' That's how Cold Wars get started." Schwartz finally broke attention and locked eyes with Virdon. "Are you willing to put everything on the line based on your trust of their good intentions?"

"What are you suggesting, Chief?" Virdon frowned. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer. Something twisted in his gut. These were his friends. Pete Burke had followed him through hell and back, even when he believed Virdon's quest was pointless. But lately, he's sensed Burke pulling away from him, more interested in putting roots down in Alba. Maybe if push came to shove, Burke would choose to stick with Zeke and the others instead of Virdon. After all, he was the one who'd fired first on Schwartz in the control room.

"We need to interrogate them, Sir. I doubt Major Burke knows anything relevant, but the other one, the hybrid—"

"His parents run the government in Alba," Virdon blurted. He felt that twist again, like he was a passenger inside his own head. "If anyone is going to know something about their plans, he will."

Schwartz considered a moment, as he watched the play of emotions on Virdon's face. "Thank you, Colonel. I understand how hard it must be to have Major Burke turn his back on his duty, on his CO."

Virdon barked a harsh laugh. "Do you, Schwartz?" He surged to his feet, stood bare inches from the Chief. "Do you have any emotions? You and all these other synthetics. Do you feel anything? Do you!"

"Yes, Sir!" Schwartz snapped back to attention. "I understand duty, sir. I understand honor. I feel dedication to my country and loyalty to my fellow airmen. I don't need anything else." He paused, but when Virdon didn't respond, he added, "And neither should you, Colonel."

The muscles in Virdon's jaw clenched. "I want to see them. I want to talk to Burke."

I have the feeling sometimes that we're strangers. There's so much about you I don't know.

"He keeps rejecting the neural connections." Voices drifted to him in the darkness.

"It worked on the Colonel."

"This one has something in his blood."

"He's tainted by his association with the abomination."

The words made no sense. He was floating, slowly circling a vortex that would eventually swallow him. Ape faces jumped out of the gloom, faces he recognized.

You talk as though you thought I was a fool, like I don't know as much as you! He struggled to breathe, the slowly poisoned air suffocating him.

I believe that people in love should tell each other everything. The world was spinning and he wanted to get off the ride. He swam to the surface of the miasma enfolding him.

'Alan!' he thought frantically. Virdon had been taken prisoner.

No.

Virdon had betrayed him! Rage burned through the last of the fog swaddling his brain. He raised his fists to strike out, only to be held down by restraints. He thrashed, trying to shake off the last images from his nightmares. Back on the spinning table. Back in the collapsed subway station. Back in a cell, a prisoner. He groaned, frustrated at the bands across his chest, arms, and legs that held him tight.

"Pete? Pete!" A new voice reached him, pulling him toward the light.

"Virdon?" he growled, raising his head and blinking owlishly. He was sitting in a heavy metal chair. Two thick leather straps buckled over his chest and abdomen, another across both thighs. More straps held down each arm and leg. His stomach contracted, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

"No, Pete, it's Zeke. I don't know where Alan is," his voice was strained and bitter.

"Zeke?" Burke felt his heart jump in his chest when he finally focused on the angel. "Shit! You all right?"

Instead of sitting in a chair like Burke, Zeke knelt on the floor about ten feet away. A length of chain wound around his torso and upper arms, then looped around the joints where his wings jutted from his back, before attaching to a hook suspended from the ceiling. The other end was locked to a ring set in the concrete floor. Zeke's right forearm bent at an awkward angle. A purpling bruise bloomed on the side of his face. His expression was pinched with pain.

"I think my arm's broken. Alan—" he trailed off, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"What did you sense in him, Zeke?"

Zeke shifted slightly in his bonds to relieve the strain on his wings. "Something is very wrong with him. His emotions were... dark. Racing. Full of animosity. And there's something else, Pete."

"What?"

"He's strong. A lot stronger than he should be. He snapped my arm like a twig. My species is stronger than humans; I should have been able to pull out of his grasp. But I couldn't budge." His eyes darted around the room, his voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Do you think he's been replaced by... by whatever those soldiers are?"

Burke scanned the room while he considered that; other than the two of them, it was empty, with just one hatch-like door. Was Virdon, the real Virdon, sitting in a room like this somewhere, maybe close by? Something didn't add up. He shook his head. "I don't think so. You said you couldn't feel anything from the other soldiers in the control room. The one I shot bled white. They definitely aren't human, but I'm not sure what they are. What you sensed in Virdon was at least recognizable as human."

"Yeah," Zeke confirmed.

"Somehow they messed with him. Maybe drugged him, I don't know." His own head was still pounding from the blow he'd taken, making it hard to think straight. Then a sudden thought made his blood run cold. "If they do the same thing to us, Eliana is suspicious enough at this point that they couldn't fool her again. Hopefully she's already high-tailed it out of here with the others."

Zeke sagged against the chains, then with a hiss of pain struggled to push himself more upright. Burke could see the trembling of the angel's muscles.

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess, Zeke."

Before Zeke could respond, the clanging of metal signaled that the door was being opened. Burke and Zeke exchanged a quick look, then turned to face their captors. When Virdon came through the door, Burke tensed, clenching his fists.

"What the hell is going on, Alan?" he shouted.

Virdon stopped inside the door then turned to speak quietly to the two soldiers behind him. They nodded and stayed outside the room as Virdon slowly closed the door. He paused for a moment, his hand on the latch, before he turned around to face his friends.

"Pete—"

"Untie us, Alan!" Burke yanked against the restraints again, knowing it was futile, but needing to express his anger. "Zeke's hurt; he says you broke his fucking arm!"

"I can't do that yet." Virdon held out his hands, placating. "Just hear me out."

"Why?"

Virdon leaned over Burke, resting his hands on Burke's shoulders. "Because we are sitting on top of a stockpile of weapon grade nuclear material." He pointed toward the door. "And these men are here to protect it."

"Men?" Burke's voice dripped sarcasm. "Except they aren't men! What the hell are they, Alan?"

He waved the question away. "Did you hear what I said, Pete?"

"Yeah. I heard. Now answer my damn question." Burke couldn't help but noticed the hot flush on Virdon's skin, and the enormous dark pools of his wide-blown pupils.

Virdon looked like he wanted to strike Burke, but pushed himself away instead. "All right. They are synthetics—advanced robots, put here to protect this base. They may not be human, but they are airmen, and the rightful keepers of this place. And right now, they believe his people," he pointed at Zeke, "might be looking to get their hands on the material stored here."

"That's ridiculous," Zeke said.

"Is it, Zeke?" Virdon strode over and crouched in front of him. "Can you honestly tell me that Mal and Levi don't have any hidden agenda in allowing your people to come here?"

Burke didn't like the hint of a threat he heard in Virdon's voice. He felt a sudden need to draw Virdon's attention away from Zeke. "What did they do to you?" he demanded.

Virdon stood and turned back to Burke, broke into a smile. For a moment, he looked like the old Virdon. But then Burke noticed the hard glint where the smile didn't reach his eyes, and it made his skin crawl. "It's still me, Pete. They didn't do anything to me except remind me of the duty to the oath I took. The same oath you took. So why are you deserting your duty?" He crossed his arms over his chest, and the smile disappeared. "I think you've gone native, Major. I think you care more about him and the people in that city than you do about your own kind."

"My own kind?" Burke repeated, incredulity elevating his voice. "What does that even mean?"

He and Virdon stared at each other for a few moments, then Virdon spun on his heel and re-opened the door. Schwartz and another airman entered when he beckoned.

"They're all yours, Chief. Do what you need to do."

Virdon stopped in the hallway after he closed the door on his friend and leaned back against the cold concrete wall. The hand he passed over his eyes trembled, and his vision wavered. Something didn't feel right, like he was coming down with something. He wondered if the base still had any medical staff—

Medical facility staffed to care for organics. The text scrolled across his vision.

"Where is the medical facility?" he asked out loud, unsure if he really needed to vocalize his requests for information.

A translucent map appeared, pointing him down the hallway to the right. He followed the instructions for the short walk. When he arrived, the door stood open.

"Colonel Virdon," the soldier acknowledged as he quickly came to attention.

Virdon glanced at the insignia; his commcon supplied a name. "Sergeant Blake. At ease." He hopped up onto an exam table. "I—," he stopped with an embarrassed smile. "I haven't been feeling quite right. Nauseous, dizzy. I guess I just want to make sure I'm not coming down with anything."

"All right, Colonel. Why don't you lie back, and I'll run a scan?" While Virdon positioned himself on the exam table, Blake turned and retrieved a piece of equipment off a table. "The Chief explained to you that there could be some discomfort while you adjusted to the link created by the commcon, right?" He turned on the scanner and held it a few inches above Virdon's head, slowly moving down toward his chest.

"He told me. But I thought that would pass once the connection was made. I'm still feeling... odd."

Blake raised a brow. "Well, Sir, everything looks within expected parameters. I'll draw some blood to make sure you haven't picked up a pathogen." He pressed the sensor to one of Virdon's fingers then pushed a couple of buttons. "Well, nothing immediately detectable—no bacteria or viruses. But I'll run a culture just to be sure. Come back in a couple of days for the results. Or come back sooner if you start to feel worse."

Virdon took the proffered hand and pulled himself upright. "Thanks, Sergeant. I'm sure it's nothing." He stood up again, wavered a little until Blake steadied him. "This visual overlay can be disconcerting. Maybe I just need to give it a little more time to get used to it."

"No problem, Colonel. I'm here if you need me." He began putting away the instruments.

"Did Schwartz come in, get that wound taken care of?"

"Yes, Sir. Damage was minimal. He'll be fine."

Virdon nodded. "Good."

Blake watched him leave, and when he was sure he was out of earshot, spoke out loud. "Chief Schwartz." After a moment, he got a response. "The Colonel was just here, Chief."

"What's his status?"

"He was concerned he was getting sick. But I found no evidence of pathogens. Not that I expected to."

"Is there a problem with his commcon?"

"No, Chief. He's adapting as expected. Norepinephrine levels increased 145% above normal. Heart rate, oxygen exchange at peak efficiency. Neuroglobin and myoglobin production still ramping up. Within the next three days, his brain and muscles will be functioning far above their previous baseline."

"Outstanding, Sergeant."

"I asked him to come back in three days for a recheck, so I'll be able to track his responses."

"Very good. Keep me apprised."

Burke swallowed hard as the two enlisted men rolled a cart of equipment into the room. He felt numb, his brain grappling with the fact that Virdon had just walked out on them—on him—and left him in the hands of his captors. Zeke slumped in his bonds, his eyes squeezed almost shut as he endured the pain of his injury.

"Hey!" Burke tried to catch the attention of the guy he had shot in the control room, "I don't know what Virdon told you that he thinks we know, but he's wrong. There is no secret agenda, no plot to steal whatever the hell you have hidden here."

Schwartz went on quietly arranging the contents of the cart, not looking up or acknowledging Burke's words. Burke was about to try again when Schwartz asked quietly, "Then why did you come here, Major?"

"To chase Virdon's pipedream of going home," he answered bitterly. "We were hoping for a ship, or at least information about where we could find one. Unless you happen to have a time machine laying around that we could borrow," he finished with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

"That may be why you came here, Major, but I am less confident of the motives of that creature and his people." Burke's stomach dropped at the contempt and vitriol that Schwartz so casually directed at Zeke.

Zeke stirred slightly at that. "We didn't know what was here. We wanted to make sure this place is not a threat to us." He raised his head with an effort. "We only desire a peaceful coexistence with all our neighbors."

"Peaceful?" Schwartz snorted. He strode over toward Zeke and crouched down in front of him, mirroring Virdon's earlier pose. "Your kind has a strange definition of 'peaceful'."

"What do you want from me?" Zeke ground out. He jerked his chin toward the cart. "No matter what you do to me, it's not going to change the truth."

"Oh, we aren't going to do anything to you, hybrid." As Schwartz's words sunk in, Burke watched the blood drain from Zeke's face. "But I can tell from your expression that you'd do anything to protect your—"

Burke pushed away the fear that clawed at his throat. "Don't tell them anything, Zeke."

Schwartz grabbed the wrist of Zeke's injured arm, and just gave a slight squeeze. Zeke screamed. "Leave him alone!" Burke shouted, throwing himself against his restraints.

He released the nearly-unconscious angel and pushed himself smoothly to his feet. He turned toward Burke with a sly look. "And I see the feelings run both ways. As I suspected."

"I want to talk to Virdon." His friend would never allow the things that Schwartz was threatening. Virdon would protect him. Yeah, maybe he was pissed at him for not wanting to join his merry little band, but would he really just let these robots hurt them?

Schwartz leaned in closer, his voice sinking to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Colonel knows everything that is going on here. We wouldn't do anything without his orders."

Burke flinched as if he'd been struck, the words dropping like a heavy shroud over his heart. Virdon's last statement replayed in his head. Do what you need to do. They are all yours.

"Go to hell," Burke growled. "You and Virdon and the rest of you can all go to hell."

Schwartz took a capsule from the cart and handed it to his colleague. "Mauser, wake up the abomination."

"Yes, Chief." Mauser waved the capsule under Zeke's nose, rousing him to full consciousness as he choked and gasped against the noxious fumes.

Burke watched Schwartz pick up a pair of cuffs with long wires trailing back to a machine. He fastened them around each of Burke's wrists, then turned his gaze on Zeke. "What is the real reason for coming here? How much do you know about the material stored here?"

"I don't know anything!" Zeke shouted, his voice hitching with a sob.

"Well, that's too bad. Maybe you better think harder." Schwartz flipped a switch on the machine, and Burke jerked in his seat. The muscles in his neck and arms corded with tension as the electricity coursed through him. His head snapped back against the headrest. The scream that ripped from his throat was unholy, an animalistic howl that pierced Zeke's heart. Tears formed in Zeke's eyes as he tried desperately to think of something, anything that he could say that would stop Burke's torment.

After a time that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Schwartz turned the switch off. Burke slumped forward, his breathing labored and harsh. He coughed twice as he drew in a ragged breath. "Fuck you," he gasped.

"All due respect, Chief," Mauser spoke quietly to Schwartz as he continued to focus Zeke's face, "but I think he's telling the truth."

"I'm not convinced," Schwartz countered, "that your abilities will work the same way on the hybrids, Airman. We don't know all the alterations that were made to their physiology."

"Yes, Sir," Mauser answered.

"Where is the rest of your group hiding, Major?" Schwartz asked.

"Long gone out of here."

"I see." Schwartz looked at Zeke. "Where are your people, hybrid?"

Zeke raised his chin defiantly, knowing that if Mauser had the ability to tell truth from lies, that the best answer was silence. His face crumbled a moment later when Schwartz shocked Burke again. His screams mingled with Burke's, echoing off the walls until they became unbearable.