Pat Dooley
The Head
Gary was brought into the outer chamber of The Heart shortly before dawn. The night had been indescribably chaotic (remember?), and he remembered almost none of it. He remembered the fear. He remembered the smell. He remembered watching Lem Arciv’s body crumple to the ground in front of him, able to see the other end of the hall through the clean hole that had burned through the man’s skull between his eyes.
Those eyes. Staring blankly ahead, his expression of surprise frozen for eternity.
He looked out the window, down a hundred floors, watching the bodies of over a thousand Cells being dragged out of the building and thrown unceremoniously into the backs of waiting transports. There would probably be no funerals. What cemetery in the worlds could accommodate that many bodies, that many fresh graves, all at once? There was a war going, and almost anybody who was able-bodied enough to dig graves was able-bodied enough to be a Cell.
He wondered if he knew any of them. He hadn’t seen Matt since the fighting started. Was he in there? What about Robert? Or Pat? Or John? Sean? Jason? Ricky? Dan? Steve? His other friend whose name was also Matt? These were guys he’d known since he was brought into The Skin. And he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever see any of them again.
When the door to the inner chamber opened, he hastily wiped his eyes. A beautiful young woman stepped through. She had vaguely orange-tinted skin that identified her as being from Gliese 667 Cc. Well, that’s what they called it on Earth. In her native language, they’d call it something unpronouncable in English. Having three tongues made their language impossible to learn or even approximate. Having three tongues and very humanoid forms made them very popular for other reasons.
“The Head will see you now.”
Her English was perfect. The Gliesans had learned early on that using only one of their tongues could create a nearperfect approximation of almost any Earth accent. This particular one preferred to speak with a Colombian accent, making her that much more exotic.
He realized he must have been staring. He blinked a couple of times and looked down. Great. Here they come again. Bad enough you’re all misty about your friends, now you’ve got embarrassment tears, too? He looked up and forced what could only very generously be considered a smile.
“Thank you.”
She smiled back. A very practiced smile. She was used to being stared at. And this one wasn’t completely hideous. Perhaps when The Head was finished rewarding him, she would as well. She’d brought every head of state, continent, and planet to The Head. Any celebrity with an interest in politics. But Gary. Well, this was the first by-God hero she’d ever encountered. Only through sheer force of will could she hide her excitement.
“Follow me, please.”
She smells nice. You should tell her she smells nice. Gary shook his head. He couldn’t flirt with this Gliesan. He couldn’t meet with The Head. He didn’t belong here. Why did it have to be him?
At the end of the impossibly long hall stood the imposing gates to the inner chamber. Standing guard on either side were two giants. The Fists each stood nearly seven and a half feet tall. The one on the left was slightly taller than the other, but the one on the right was a good fifty pounds heavier, all of it muscle. All of both of them were muscle. Kepler 62-e was known for producing these monstrosities. The Head had hand-selected them as his new Fists on his first visit to the Kepler system. They hadn’t disappointed him yet.
They both grunted at Gary and the Gliesan’s arrival. An acknowledgement, but not a greeting. They opened the gate and Gary could finally see him. The Head. The man who might very well be dead at this very moment if Gary hadn’t done what he’d done.
Oh, God, what I’ve done. Those eyes. That hole. That smell.
“Gary, my boy. Welcome to the inner chamber.”
That The Head spoke directly to him, called him by name, brought the butterflies back to Gary’s stomach.
“It is... It’s an honor, sir.”
“No, no, nonsense. The pleasure is mine. Aubrey, you may leave us.”
“As you wish, sir.” The Gliesan turned and strode quickly from the room.
“Gary, how long have you been a Cell?”
“Uh... not long, sir. Maybe three years?”
“And this man, Lem Arciv, this is your first kill.”
“Yes, sir. It was my first time seeing real action, sir. I was stationed in or near The Heart for most of my duties, and so I haven’t needed to--”
“Do you understand what happened today?”
“Only vaguely. I’ve heard stories. I know Arciv is a terrorist. Was a terrorist, I suppose. Sir.”
“That he was. He was also once a friend of mine.”
“Yes, sir. He was one of your first Fists.”
Okay, so this expositional dialogue goes on for a while. Trust me, we’ll fill in backstory as we go. Got a lot of story still to tell, so let me skip ahead.