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Change was in the air. There were mutterings in the halls of power but no one dared raise their voices too loudly lest they be accused of disloyalty. In the Solar King’s court, his counselors labored to understand the reason behind the new directives they had been given. Well, no, that wasn’t quite accurate. They understood the directives. They were brilliant, even, but not very much like what they had come to expect from the Solar King.

“It’s because of his son,” was the most common, whispered explanation. “The one who was killed.”

“He’s lulling them into a false hope. Then he’ll crush them,” was second.

“Is someone else advising him now?” was the third most common whisper.

Chester heard them all, thanks to the enhanced abilities of the Solar King. The whisper he’d been most worried about, the one he’d been listening for most, was never uttered. No one suspected anything to be wrong with the Solar King. No one spoke of doubts in his rule. No one was angling to replace him.

Smythe was less thrilled when he’d found out Chester had gone ahead with the plan. That was why they were both in the lab significantly earlier than usual. It was one of the few truly private places they could meet.

“You should have run it by me before having him do anything,” he complained.

“Mister Hark, your perspective, your insights, and your experience are all valuable, but we are not equal partners in this.” Chester said before he could check himself.

That was harsher than he’d intended, but Chester was tired from yet another late night and early morning and his social graces were faltering. Smythe’s expression darkened but before he could speak, Chester held up his hand to forestall him. The last thing he needed was a tug of war over the Solar King between himself and Smythe.

“I’m sorry, that was…not…I’m tired and when I’m tired I speak and don’t think about what I’m saying. It was a big decision, but I thought we were already agreed on it so I went with it. In the future, I agree, we should both make sure we agree before doing anything like this.”

“Right,” Smythe grunted, clearly not convinced that Chester was sorry or that he felt he should consult with Smythe.

Truth was, Chester didn’t think he should have to consult with Smythe. His first reply, though tactless, was the more accurate statement of how he felt towards the situation. Smythe was his inferior and the young man was behaving himself far too proudly for how short a time he’d been on the team, gifted or not.

“The Solar King will be coming to the lab in a few days,” Smythe changed the subject. “What’s the plan for that?”

“We carry on as normal. The newest samples have been working. The only issue now is the multiple subjects with one controller. If we can just figure that out then I’d say we’re in good shape.”

“What if it isn’t perfect? What then? Do we pick three people to die?”

“No, of course not!” Chester snapped. “If it isn’t perfect then I will pick three members of my team to be executed, as per the Solar King’s order.”

“An order you made him give!”

“No, it was his order.”

“He’s a puppet, he can’t do anything we don’t let him do.”

“Enough!” Chester slammed his fist down on the table. “I am the lead on this team. The Solar King is my responsibility. You serve on the team, you assist me with the Solar King. Nothing more.”

They were both standing now. Smythe was ridged and his face became waxy. Chester braced himself. He’d seen that sort of expression before. He probably had worn it himself on a few instances. It was the look of someone about to lose control and attack. To kill.

“You might be the team lead,” Smythe said through gritted teeth, “but that doesn’t mean you’re the only one who could be in charge. I can think of at least three others who could replace you and we wouldn’t even –

Chester threw a left hook and caught Smythe on the chin. He followed it up with a right uppercut. He stepped in and hooked a leg around Smythe, tripping him as he fell back. Chester placed his hand on Smythe’s face and drove his head backwards into the floor. The young man was out cold. Chester was breathing fast, his adrenaline quickly running out and leaving him shaking. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but having grown up, moving from one war zone to another, he’d picked up a few things along the way. One of them was to strike first before a younger, stronger opponent could throw the first punch.

Chester picked Smythe up by the armpits and dragged him over to the sample table. The straps were meant for the apes they tested most of these processes on but apes and humans were similar enough in dimensions that Smythe Hark was soon strapped down. That was the only part of the process Chester rushed. Now it didn’t matter if Smythe woke up. There was still an hour before the other necrologists would begin to arrive and the Solar King was alone “considering the state of the fringe worlds” so that even if Smythe managed to make the Solar King say anything or move erratically, no one would be there to witness it.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” Chester said, still catching his breath. “And so soon. You really were a great help with the Solar King. I’ll have to figure something else out for him and his schedule. Maybe he can have a suit of armor made for me too? No, that would be too much. Even his son’s armor aren’t that advanced.”

The lab wasn’t set up for running the process so it was taking Chester a bit longer to gather everything. The newest batch of neural gel Chester had made was still by his workstation and he had to flush the system of the old neural gel before he could add it to the vat.

Smythe’s eyes began to flutter.

“Good morning, young man,” Chester said with what he hoped sounded sincere. “How’re you feeling.”

Smythe’s head lolled back and forth a few times before he finally could turn and focus on Chester.

“You hit me,” he said with genuine surprise. “Didn’t think you were a fighter.”

“I told you I lived through the Unification Wars, and the ones before them.”

“So?”

“So anyone who lived through them learned to fight. Otherwise you died.”

It was then that Smythe realized he was strapped down.

“You can let me go,” he said, embarrassed. “I was getting carried away. We’ve both said some stupid things.”

“We did,” Chester agreed but did not let Smythe go and instead continued setting up the apparatus.

“What are you doing?” Smythe asked.

It was the type of question they both already knew the answer to and neither of them wanted to hear it, and yet the question had to be asked. Chester didn’t respond, not with words, as he continued his work.

“What about the feedback?” Smythe said. “Remember what the ape did to the Solar King?”

It took a moment for Chester to reply. Not because he didn’t have a response. He did. It was part of an answer to a question he’d been asking himself for a long time.

“Do you know why I was put in charge of this team?” Chester asked.

Smythe didn’t answer. There was a calm in Chester’s voice that belied the look in his eyes. The eyes of someone who was about to do something terrible. It wasn’t a familiar look for Chester.

“Or why the Solar King would always come and have me pick one of you to die? Week after week?”

Again, Smythe didn’t speak as he was held as if mesmerized by Chester.

“I’d figured it all out, long ago. Then the Solar King came and asked for my research. His own necrologists could turn people into soldiers, but they couldn’t preserve knowledge, personality, or any of that. I could. But I wasn’t one of his necrologists during the war. I didn’t fight on either side, which really just meant I had to fight everyone.

“In the end, he forced me to come here. Gave me a team, and told me each week they didn’t produce what he wanted, he’d kill one of them and make me pick who it was. I could have chosen myself, but I don’t know if he’d have accepted that. Either way, I’ve let my team die over and over again while I sat on the answer to the problem the entire time.”

“Why?” Smythe asked, breaking his silence. “You said it yourself that you preferred the Solar King over the way things use to be.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean I want to give him even more tools to work with. He has enough, in my opinion.”

Chester cut away Smythe’s shirt and began hooking him up to the the devices that would preserve his organs while the neural gel did its work.

“You don’t have to do this,” Smythe grunted.

“I do, unfortunately. Sooner or later, I knew this was where we would end up. Either this or I’d be dead.”

He inserted the injectors and Smythe screamed out. None of the previous samples had ever reacted so violently so Chester was pretty sure Smythe wasn’t in terrible pain. He, Chester, wasn’t sure if he would be acting any differently if their places were reversed.

“I’m sorry, mister Smythe,” he said at last, and switched on the dampening field.