The Conformity by John Hornor Jacobs

approaches and says, “Is it just you, then, Li’l Devil?”
    Jack moves to stand near me. “And me.”
    What’s this? Danielle asks. What’s going on?
    Casey broadcasts a wordless, nervous interrogative. A quick image of a hand, opening as if during a conversation when a question is asked.
    I have to lead the thing away, I respond.
    Why you, man-child? Why’s it got to be you?
    It’s drawn to me, I guess. Bugfuck stuff.
    A concerned look crosses Danielle’s features. The second soldier did head straight for you.
    Seems my noggin’s like a big old lighthouse, and the soldier wants to snuff it out, I say, trying to keep my nervousness out of the mental timbre.
    I feel a secret warmth in the palm of my hand. Casey holds it with her own invisible one.
    â€œI’m going with you,” Tap says. “Not because you’re all that, but because I can’t stay in here anymore.”
    He’s got a point. It is getting a bit claustrophobic in here.
    Blackwell looks at me from across the storage hall and pushes his way over, Ember and the rest of his team in tow, like eddies swirling behind a particularly large walrus.
    â€œWhat’s all this? Something’s about to happen?” he asks Davies.
    Davies, sensing the alarm and fear rippling through the assembled extranaturals, raises his hands. “Listen up, people! Listen up!” The remaining Army guys straighten and come to attention. Lab coats rustle and shift their weight nervously. “Good news. There’s a small service passage to Bunker G. In a moment, you’re all going to get in single file, and we’re going to take you over there. We’ll assemble in the motor pool by the blast doors. Red Team, Green Team, you will be on hand to escort and defend the civilians. Understood?”
    A soft tremor rolls through the assembled people. I can’t tell if it’s nervousness at the looseness of the plan or relief to be doing something. A bit of both, probably.
    â€œMeanwhile, Shreve and his Irregulars will lead the soldier away while we evacuate the valley. Miss Tanzer and Mr. Holden have prepared a roster and will assign you to your evacuation duties once we’re in Bunker G’s motor pool.”
    â€œHold up,” Blackwell says. “Why are Shreve and his—” I’ve roughed him up in the past (and he me) so he stops himself before saying something stupid. “His little group leading the soldier away? Why not Solomon’s team? Or mine?”
    Captain Davies grinds his teeth. It’s a terrible thing, really, grinding your teeth—it wears down the enamel and can cause all sorts of deleterious things to your choppers and your gums. But Davies is a freakin’ natural at it. His jaw looks like steel girders stressing and groaning during an earthquake.
    He does not like being questioned.
    â€œBecause, Mr. Blackwell, that is how the Director has designed the plan. And the damned thing has a hard-on for Cannon, or so the Director says.” It comes out all smooth and measured. And then, “ Do you understand me, Blackwell? ” Spittle flies from his mouth. The force of his shout causes us all to take a step back.
    â€œYes, sir! Understood.”
    â€œYou will escort the civilians and non-flyers. That is your job. You may start now.” He turns, waves Holden and Tanzer over. “Let’s start moving them to Bunker G.”
    Man-child, I’m coming with you. Ain’t going in them lifeboats.
    You can’t fly, Bernard. If you get caught in the transport—
    A quick eruption of angry drumbeats flashes in my mind, and Bernard says, “Neither can Davies or Casey. Or Negata here. And they’re all going with.”
    â€œYour boy Iggy’s lining up with the rest of them,” Jack says, pointing to Bernard’s paired telekinetic.
    Fuck that motherfucker. He’s just some fool they assigned me. And you two have forgotten