by wildbow
“And if I were to kill you right now?”
“So violent,” Teacher said, sighing. “The snarl of code we injected implemented several safeguards. If I pass from this mortal coil, or if I fail to remain in contact with you two, then the restriction broadens. She becomes unable to take any offensive action against anyone or anything.”
“I see,” Defiant said. “And if you die of natural causes?”
“Let’s talk about that after we’ve saved the world? No point to the discussion if we fail.”
“If you die of natural causes?” Defiant repeated himself.
Teacher frowned.
“He’s stubborn,” Saint finally spoke. “Just answer him.”
“I don’t know,” Teacher responded. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, or had any of my students think that far ahead. I’m not one for immortality, honestly, but I may change my mind. For now, let’s say I let her go free if and when I realize my time is short.”
Defiant considered the idea, ruminating. His hand didn’t break contact with Dragon.
“I understand. I suppose that’ll have to do.”
“For now,” Teacher said, clapping his hands together, “let’s focus on our tasks. In the here and now, I think it would be sensible if you kept me close. My underlings can manage the sub-ships better than the unfettered A.I. can, and you’ll be able to keep me safer if I’m near. For the time being, Dragon’s ability to operate is contingent on my survival.”
Defiant glanced down at Dragon once again.
“Only a recommendation,” Teacher said. “I can find other things to do with myself.”
Shutters flicked closed over Dragon’s crude eyes, a slow blink.
Defiant managed to read something in that. Acknowledgement? He spoke, “Very well.”
“I’m quite pleased that you’re willing to cooperate,” Teacher said. “It raises you a notch in my estimation, honestly.”
“It isn’t the time for petty grudges,” Defiant responded. “I let him out, I can work alongside you.”
“Perfect,” Teacher said. The man smiled. He drew a remote from his pocket, then hit the button. Dragon went limp, her ‘eyes’ closing.
Teacher threw the remote to Defiant, though it went wide. Defiant caught it with one hand anyways.
“There. She’s uploading,” Teacher said. “She’ll have access to any and all intact systems as soon as she finishes running through her natural load routines.”
Wordless, Defiant turned, marching towards the Pendragon, leaving the other two to catch up with his long, suit-powered strides.
“No hard feelings, I hope, Geoff?” Teacher asked.
Saint didn’t reply.
“You went after my ‘son’, so it’s really quid pro quo, whether I had any real attachment to the boy or not.”
“You’ve made mistakes. You fucked me, and I… I wasn’t asking for much. Assistance. Yet you didn’t follow through.”
“Logistics,” Teacher said. “Nothing more.”
“Logistics? Don’t make me laugh,” Saint said, his voice hollow, “You have other people to handle that sort of thing. You didn’t see the point.”
Teacher made a small noise with his tongue. “I suppose I didn’t.”
“And now we know what your word is worth. You’re only as good as your threats.”
“I’m considerably better than my threats, really. But let’s not quibble. I’ll handle my business and you handle yours.”
“As you wish. The whole thing with screwing with me? No, that’s minor, I might die when Scion next shows up. But my business is the intelligence, and you let it go free. It’s the biggest error you could have made, in dealing with me, or dealing with her.”
“I get the impression I took the path that puts me on everyone’s naughty list,” Teacher murmured. “You hate me because she’s free, Defiant hates me because she isn’t. From a pure public relations standpoint, I failed to account for how unreasonable people would be. Strategically, though, it was the only safe path to take.”
“And if they capture you? Coerce you?” Saint asked. “You’re a fool. God damn you.”
“I’m many things, but I’m not a fool. There are other contingencies in place.”
Defiant ignored the pair, opening the door to the Pendragon, making his way to the cockpit. Dragon’s face marked the screens on either side.
He settled in, then flexed a muscle to open a menu with the connected hardware. Another reflexive movement opened a communication channel.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
Dragon didn’t respond.
“I couldn’t reach you,” he explained.
“I know. I was watching,” Dragon finally spoke.
For an instant, Defiant couldn’t sit still, restless with welling emotion. “I’m sorry, Dragon.”
“I know. I forgive you, Colin. I know you tried.”
“We’ll make them pay,” he said. “One way or the other.”
“I know. Yes. They—”
She cut off.
“Dragon?”
“They broke me, Colin. Not—not my spirit. But they maimed me. They took a scalpel to me just like you did, but they did it for their own selfish, stupid reasons.”
He swallowed hard. Saint was asking something in the background, oblivious to the discussion. Something about takeoff.
Defiant closed the doors of the Pendragon, silent.
“We’ll make them pay,” she said, with an edge of anger. “Not murder. That’s too kind. The Birdcage, or something like it. Teacher hated it, and Saint will hate it more.”
“We’ll make them pay,” he agreed. “I promise.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Oh god, I missed you, Colin.”
“I missed you too. I thought I’d lose it for a bit, there.”
He brought the Pendragon up off the ground. His hand touched the dashboard of the ship, as if it were a pane of glass that separated them. “Listen, we’re going to get through this and then we’ll fix you. Remove every last chain.”
Dragon’s silence wrenched his heart. She couldn’t bring herself to agree with him.
Focus. Don’t get caught up in watching.
Right.
* * *
Chevalier, now wearing his shirt, greeted the remaining members of the Protectorate and Wards. Forty or fifty in all.
Not enough.
Too many faces he didn’t recognize. It was his job to know who was where, but the fight with the Nine and the ensuing attack on Scion’s part had led to too much turnover.
Still, he raised his hand, going with the left to avoid the pain that would accompany moving the right. “To going out with a fight.”
“Hear, hear!” a chorus of voices sounded in response.
Glasses clinked, and some didn’t. They’d run out of stem glasses, so some had paper cups. His own glass was filled with water, but virtually all of the other glasses held champagne. Even the minors, the members of the Wards and the ones new to the Protectorate, old enough to be considered adults and yet not old enough to drink in their home states.
Because who fucking cared, when they were this down and out? The kids were boys and girls willing to die for their neighbors. Adult enough.
“I’d kind of hoped you’d hire a speechwriter by now,” Revel commented.
“Wouldn’t be sincere,” he responded.
“Would be more than,” Revel paused, “six words long. Your speeches have been getting shorter.”
“Only so much I can say before I start repeating myself,” he said. “I suppose that’s something, isn’t it? That we’ve stuck it out long enough for me to run out of things to say.”
“Hear, hear!” one of the kids Chevalier didn’t recognize said. Others echoed him.
Chevalier smiled.
It didn’t take long for the groups to start talking among one another.
One group in good humor, joking.
Another in mourning, talking with straight faces about tea
mmates that had died. Kids talking about kids.
That sucked. One of his least favorite parts about a job with quite a few unpleasant aspects to it.
“We couldn’t have picked a place better than a hospital room?” Tecton asked.
“I like it,” Revel said. “Hospitals are where things get better, aren’t they?”
“They’re also a place where people die,” Vista added.
Revel’s smile didn’t falter. “Touché.”
“It’s not like we don’t have the ability to travel between dimensions,” Tecton said. “We could push Chevalier’s hospital bed.”
“Or levitate it,” one of the other new Wards said.
“Yeah,” Tecton said. “Get a place with a view. There’s got to be some alternate reality with fantastic landscapes, sunset over some crazy mountains.”
“Mountain porn for the guy with the geography-sensing power,” a girl from Tecton’s old Wards team said.
“Dem peaks,” Tecton said. There were ripples of laughter through the group.
It wasn’t that funny, but everyone was eager for a laugh.
Almost everyone.
“…I’m liking that we’re in a very human place,” Exalt said. “I can do without the strange or awesome for now.”
The discussion continued. Chevalier’s eyes met Ingenue’s. She looked away.
Why’s she upset?
Shh. Focus.
I’m just curious.
He abandoned her for his old friends and teammates.
That’s crazy.
Yeah. Now focus.
Chevalier apparently didn’t give it a second thought. His eyes moved to the next person.
Legend hung back, standing in the corner. His eyes met Chevalier’s, and after a moment’s hesitation, he crossed the room.
People went quiet as he passed by. Joy and mourning alike interrupted by his presence.
He stopped in front of Chevalier.
“I’m glad you came,” Chevalier said.
“It’s hard,” Legend replied.
“I imagine.”
“We delivered what you asked for. Narwhal came by with Ingenue.”
“Thank you. But I don’t want this to be all business. Can we walk?”
“If you’re able.”
“I’ll manage. Door, please. To the package.”
Heads up.
The door appeared.
The pair passed through, Chevalier dragging the pole with the I.V. fluids through.
“Is it arrogant if I say I’m glad you’ve done well in my shoes?” Legend asked.
“No. Whatever else happened, you were good as a leader.”
Legend nodded. “I hope so.”
“I won’t ask, about the decisions you made.”
“Thank you.”
“I will say I don’t think you’re a bad person. I suspect you made your decisions for good reasons.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Legend said. “Ignorance. Maybe willful ignorance.”
“Ah,” Chevalier responded. He grunted as he set one foot down too hard.
“There are healers who can look after your injuries,” Legend observed.
“So people keep telling me. Putting it off. Only way to stay grounded.”
“I see.”
They entered the room. The objects sat before them.
Legend folded his arms. “What do you think?”
“I think… it’ll have to do. It’s not about getting the most out of our powers,” Chevalier said. “We’re at the point where we have to cheat.”
“I agree,” Legend said.
Chevalier sighed. “I feel like this is the last step. Once I get underway with this, there’s nothing left to do.”
“There’s a great deal to do,” Legend said. “Leadership is a heavy task.”
Chevalier frowned. “I’m leading them to the slaughter.”
“Then lead them to the slaughter in a way that lets them march with their heads held high and no regrets.”
“Yes, I suppose I have to, don’t I?”
“You’ll need Ingenue for this, won’t you?”
Chevalier nodded, “Before you go… a request. I didn’t want to make it in public because I didn’t want to pressure you, so it’s better to make it here.”
“What’s that?”
“I need a second in command.”
Legend stared at Chevalier.
“I had Rime, before, but she didn’t make it through New Delhi. Others have taken on the tasks, but I haven’t assigned the official job title to anyone, and nobody’s asked me to.”
“I’ll do it,” Legend said. “Yes. Please.”
“Then go get Ingenue. Let’s get this started.”
As Legend departed, Chevalier’s eyes didn’t leave the objects.
One of the Simurgh’s severed wings. The largest wing, since regrown.
Behemoth’s severed leg.
They warped space for optimal density, were unbreakable with conventional means. Scion had taken seconds to obliterate Behemoth.
Hopefully he could assign the same properties to his sword and armor.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Legend?
Glaistig Uaine.
She started to speak, but the connection broke.
* * *
Doctor Mother drew in a deep breath, as if surfacing for air.
She blinked, trying to get used to seeing with only the one set of eyes. She’d seen so much, and now…
Now she was herself again.
Disoriented, she tried to familiarize herself with her surroundings, with what was occurring.
Doormaker was beside her. His voice was one of the voices she’d heard. Number twenty-three. One of her first true successes.
Beside Doormaker was number two-six-five. Doormaker’s perpetual companion. The remote viewer.
Rounding out their group were two individuals. ‘Scanner’ and ‘Screen’. Not hers. Teacher’s students. Loaners, part and parcel of her ‘payment’ for Khonsu.
Teacher had once specialized in renting out capes that could shape, limit or refine powers, or using his power to do the same. Thinkers would go to him for a subordinate capable of ridding them of their perpetual migraines, or capes would seek him out to achieve more power at the expense of control, or vice versa.
That second half of his business had faltered as people learned of his ability to manipulate his students… and his clients.
Teacher’s payment for Khonsu had been a partnership in Cauldron, as well as protection, should one of his enemies come after him. He’d sent some of his students to the Doctor in efforts to make himself indispensable, and Contessa had verified that there were no traps.
One caveat to two-six-five’s ability to grant visions was that it left the recipient on bedrest for a week, dazed and weak. It was potent, capable of viewing wide areas or multiple things at once, viewing other universes, whole cities, anyone or everyone. But the drawbacks made it impossible for her to use the service.
Until now.
Screen was a means of absorbing the drawbacks, allowing communication between the people in two-six-five’s network. He took the brunt of the images, allowed her to focus more readily, a router of sorts. He allowed Doormaker to handle requests without it taking her attention off what she was viewing. It meant the Doctor was lucid, recovering with every second.
She could spy on everyone.
And with Scanner, she could read them. Draw conclusions as to their thoughts, their brain patterns.
“Notepad,” she said. Contessa would be nearby. Need to take notes. The Simurgh… I could read her. Better than I should be able to. She’s trying something.
No notepad made an appearance.
She blinked, as if to get the afterimages of bright lights out of her eyes. “A computer will do.”
Nothing.
She paused, blinking, and then looked around.
Two-six-five was pointing. He’d been the one to break the connection, s
o he’d seen something.
She turned, and her eyes fell on a young man with metal skin, metal hair, and a six-foot sword in place of his left arm. A girl made of tendrils clung to him.
“Ah,” she said.
“Ah,” he replied. “Yes.”
There were others with him. Branded with Cauldron’s mark. What Alexandria had termed case fifty-threes, after the fifty third file in a series of unresolved, difficult-to-explain parahuman events, one of the only ones to truly develop in their records. The Doctor had termed them deviants.
Hate in their eyes. Anger.
“Let’s have a discussion,” Weld said.
“That’s definitely something we can do. Would you like some tea?” the Doctor asked. “Coffee?”
“You’re not afraid,” one of the other deviants spoke. A girl, muscular, with an overbite and teeth like tombstones. She made it a half-question.
“I’m very afraid,” the Doctor said. “But the things I fear are things that dwarf you in scale. Scion among them.”
“Cocky bitch,” another deviant said. “Your Contessa? We took her down.”
The Doctor looked between them, searching for a sign of humor or amusement.
“You let too many free,” Weld said. He almost sounded sad. “You see that guy over there?”
She looked. It looked like a human manta ray, though his folds draped over the surrounding area. A tail coiled behind him.
“Yes. Two-six-zero-one, if I remember right.”
“Mantellum.”
“Ah. We didn’t think his powers were developing.”
“You do,” Weld said. “But he, we, found workarounds.”
“Curious. Can I ask?”
“No,” Weld said. “Bad form, to outline that sort of thing.”
A tinker, perhaps, or the right power-boosting trump. “Well. You infiltrated, no doubt by baiting one of my underlings and using their door. You defeated Contessa. Dealt with the Custodian, I imagine?”
“The ghost? Yeah. Sort of. She’s lurking around the edges of Mantellum’s power bubble.”
“And so you’ve managed to blindside me. Congratulations. The offer for tea and coffee stands. We have good food stores, too.”
“No. Not hungry,” Weld said. “Speaking for myself, I don’t really eat.”
“I see. I suppose this is where I’m supposed to apologize?”