Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero (54 page)

Leah stopped before taking the seat being offered to her.

She didn’t want to make an enemy out of this woman, but she reported to one superior, and Olivia wasn’t that superior. Leah never made any pretense of undervaluing Olivia’s role or responsibilities, but in this she knew she must always be clear.

“I mean no disrespect,” Leah said as discreetly as possible, “but I’m only reporting to our commanding officer. He’ll make the call as to what details you’re to be briefed on.”

If her statement had come as a surprise, Leah couldn’t read it on the woman’s face.

“Of course,” Olivia said. “I didn’t mean to create any confusion.”

Leah smiled and nodded while Olivia’s features remained cemented in place. She climbed into the car, and Olivia shut the door behind her.

“Hello, Leah,” said the voice.

She was still staring through the window at Olivia’s back. She waited a moment before responding.

“I don’t think your lead likes me much,” Leah replied.

“Admittedly, I wouldn’t trust her if she did,” replied the voice. “She has the highest security clearance her department has a designation for. I don’t know her real name myself. She is charged with observing, containing, and controlling this operation. As such a task is highly volatile and any failure inexcusable, she is under a great burden to execute the protocols flawlessly.”

“I’ve given her no reason to doubt me,” Leah replied, still staring out the window.

“It’s not the point. You’re the one member of this team who she did not hand select and who isn’t under her orders. She has no visibility to your background outside a vague report indicating your involvement in the development of the secondary protocol. To her you’re another variable that she has to control.”

“Well,” Leah replied, “perhaps you could divulge to her that I wrote the protocol she is implementing.”

“It wouldn’t change the fact that your involvement in the field is highly unorthodox,” the voice replied. “Your recent choices, I have to admit, have given me my own doubts as to whether or not I should have allowed your involvement.”

Leah closed her eyes. She knew that he received reports on her every action. It was part of the arrangement. It didn’t make the conversation she was about to have any less awkward.

“General Delacy,” Leah said, then rolled her eyes, “Dad, there’s no need for the voice modulator.”

There was a delay. Finally the window dividing the back and front seat began to roll down.

She mentally prepared herself for the conversation about to take place. There was no level of professional etiquette that was going to make this situation less disturbing. He’d allowed her to work with him on this operation, but it wasn’t going to change the reality of their relationship, even if that relationship was only apparent when they were in a sound-proof vehicle together.

As her father came into view she saw he wasn’t in his uniform. He was wearing a suit and tie, dressed much like the male version of Olivia.

“You sit on this side of the car long enough you forget it’s there,” he said, his voice uncloaked.

He turned to look at her.

“I never wanted you to feel you needed to prostitute yourself,” he said.

The uncomfortable nature of this conversation was heavy, despite the practical reality of the situation. It was the only scenario she could imagine where she’d be required to discuss, in detail, her decision to invite a man into her bed with her father. She had, after all, demanded this opportunity, spent over a year getting him to make it happen.

“I’d hardly call it that,” she replied.

“Jonathan Tibbs is aligned with the mark,” he replied, “the very being responsible for Peter’s disappearance. You must realize the kind of person you may be dealing with.”

Leah knew that she and her father had a different idea of the nature of Jonathan’s involvement with the alien. She’d been keeping it to herself, but now was the time. She was the person on the inside, and though she knew her observations might be clouded, he needed to be aware of them.

“I don’t believe Jonathan volunteered to be in the position he’s in. For that matter, we both know Peter was a good man, and from what we know, Jonathan’s experience is playing out almost exactly as Peter’s scenario did,” Leah replied.

“We need to remember that whatever Peter was wrapped up in with the alien may have been of his own volition, Leah,” her father said. “Do not let your desire to believe in your brother’s honor cause you to ignore that he was involved with the enemy for weeks leading to his disappearance. He made no attempt to notify the authorities. It appears this Jonathan has also elected to take the same course.”

“Peter’s actions weren’t voluntary!” Leah said. “He wasn’t some villain! The alien had something over him, something that forced him to hide, even from us. You can think whatever you want, lecture me on the importance of being a passive observer, but you don’t believe any more than I do that Peter chose the alien over mankind.”

The father sighed.

“Just explain to me what you’re doing,” he said.

Leah took a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes again returning to Olivia’s back.

“We are still flying blind,” Leah said. “Jonathan has been under observation longer than any other subject, yet we’ve hardly learned anything. The alien is too elusive. If Peter is still alive, the only way to get to him is through the alien, and only way to get to the alien is through Jonathan.”

The father listened but said nothing.

“Jonathan is like Peter in so many ways. It’s plain that he’s scared shitless, even if he is doing his best to hide it, yet, he’s been forging himself into a warrior for months now despite this fear. I’ve observed this change. It’s evident from watching him that he isn’t doing this for himself. He is…” Leah paused. “He believes it is of dire importance, it’s been to the detriment of every other facet of his life. He’s given up everything to become a weapon.”

“How does this push him into your bedroom?” the Father asked.

She looked out the window for a moment, gathering her explanation despite the terrible awkwardness. Her father was a pillar of professionalism. She was his only blind spot and she knew it. It was the only reason this situation had ever come to be. If Olivia ever got an inkling of their familial relationship, she’d likely lose her cement-like composure.

“We have no idea how long before he could suddenly disappear on us. He might be standing in his garage one day and be gone the next. He knows he’s being watched, but he hasn’t made any attempt to reach out to authorities, and you can’t blame him after the over-site with Grant Morgan.”

“It wasn’t ideal; we had to work with what we had. At least Mr. Morgan took the attention off you, and got us the intel we needed within the house until you could integrate yourself. No one will be suspecting a young woman renting the house next door with her little brother. I don’t think the alien will even see you coming,” her father said.

He didn’t have to explain, it had been Leah’s design in the first place.

“I understand, still, Jonathan either doesn’t trust this operation now, or doesn’t believe it can protect him from the alien. With our limited visibility, it might be something else entirely, but it doesn’t convict him as a willing participant.”

Leah gave her thoughts time to sink in before continuing.

“Jonathan is dedicated. I could hardly distract him from his undertaking despite openly throwing myself at him. I don’t mean to be immodest, but it’s no small deed for a twenty-two year old to be so unwavering. I believe he is trapped in this situation, that he sees it as more dire than his own life,” Leah said. “The last few weeks, I’ve seen that something is drawing close. It’s in his eyes, building up. He is so afraid and unequipped to deal with that fear.”

“What are you saying?” her father asked. “Have you taken him to bed out of some sense of pity? Mercy?”

Leah felt a rush of anger at the judgment in his tone. She wasn’t a child. He was still seeing his daughter and not a member of the team, not a capable woman who knew what she was about.

“He needs to open up to me. I need to gain his trust, but I can’t push him. I can’t make him the least bit suspicious. He has to see me as a woman he shares a common history with. He has to see a woman who’ll understand him. That kind of trust can take months, even years to build. We don’t likely have the luxury of that much time,” Leah said, then paused for a moment. “Maybe there was a small element of mercy. Before Peter disappeared, he was at his wits end. He had no one, just as Jonathan is now so alone, becoming more and more isolated. Even his roommates think he’s just damaged from his initial assault. My gut told me…”

She stopped before finishing that sentence. Her father still seemed dissatisfied, although perhaps not as much as he had been initially. Leah stopped explaining like she was giving a report. She knew now what her father wanted to hear.

“For what it’s worth, General Delacy,” Leah said, “if I had met Jonathan under different circumstances, the result may have been the same. Albeit less rushed.”

She flushed red at having said it, yet the look of disapproval seemed to waver in her father’s eyes.

“If you develop feelings for him,” her father said, “you may jeopardize us.”

Leah shook her head.

“I’ve got it under control,” she said.

In her thoughts, she wasn’t as sure. She felt that if she wasn’t as real as she could be, vulnerable, that Jonathan was never going to trust her like they needed him to.

“Try to remember, Leah,” her father said. “We probably can’t save him.”

CHAPTER FORTY

WEDNESDAY | SEPTEMBER 7, 2005 | 6:00 PM

AT
dusk, Jonathan lifted the garage door. It was time to train again. Heyer had said, so long ago, it would be a matter of days or weeks before he’d be activated again, that the Ferox would only increase in frequency moving forward. The dread was there, but less now. Any one engagement with the beasts wasn’t a death sentence; it was the unending horde that would eventually kill him.

Though he would have been hard pressed to put it into words, things were different now. This role was his. The skin he wore seemed more his own, the habits more familiar. His desire to go back to the way things had been fading away.

The emotions might have been left in the dust of a nonexistent timeline, but the memories resided in his head like any other. Jonathan supposed killing a sentient being was the same no matter what the species. With the first Ferox, Sickens the Fever, there had been no philosophical burden, because Jonathan had felt more like a victim then. Dams the Gate, in its last moment, had left a mark on him. The way it reached through the pain at the end, before he had beaten the life out it; its eyes no longer filled with rage, just desperation, haunted him. It was too human, even if it had been a monster.

Jonathan figured it would have to be this way for a while. People drew lines in the sand. Then something happened and they stepped over them. After it happened once, it got easier and easier to cross the line again. Eventually he’d forget there ever was a line in the first place.

When he pulled the garage door shut, the alien was there, Fedora and all.

“I’m glad to see you, Jonathan,” Heyer said.

Jonathan nodded, shutting the door behind him.

They talked awhile. The Alien asked what had occurred the night before, how it had played out with the Ferox. Jonathan gave him the highlights. How the Ferox had been of some different variety than the first, how he’d lured it to the roof. He stuck with the facts, not how he felt about them.

Heyer listened. He took most of the story without interruption until Jonathan brought up the creature’s physical form. Jonathan saw the Alien’s concern then, as he described the things body structure, its color, its behavior.

“I can see you’re thinking about something, Heyer. I know we agreed that if I was still here today you’d give me some answers,” Jonathan said. “To be honest though, if you think it’s best for me not to know. I’ll trust you.”

The alien looked into Jonathan’s eyes then, he seemed to be looking for a sign of sincerity in them. Jonathan expected he would find it. He didn’t put faith in things. He hoped Heyer saw now that this was what he was offering, his faith.

“Curious, Jonathan,” Heyer said, “I’ve seen your need to know, the quest for the truth plaguing you. What could change that you would relinquish that virtue?”

Jonathan thought about how to answer the question.

“You were right,” he said, “about almost everything. I clung to claims for my freedom, not because you forced me into this, but because I was afraid. If I had had the choice, I’d like to think I’d have made it. I was holding on to a story I told myself, about who I thought I was. I didn’t want to see it was a facade.

Still, it was when I thought about your actions that I made my peace with it. You found a planet; you came to love its people. When that planet was threatened, you came to its aid. We aren’t even your species and you asked nothing. I felt that, should I turn out to be wrong about you, I could live with the choice I’d made with what I knew.”

Heyer nodded. He seemed moved. Perhaps, it was one thing not to ask for thanks, it was another to have it given anyway.