by James Maxey
“You’ll be talking to someone with a lot more authority than the sheriff,” she said. “What’s your connection to the dervishes?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“You expect me to believe it’s just a coincidence they seem to be using the exact same tech as you to duplicate themselves?”
“Why not?” he said. “I put plans up on the net. Got feedback from anonymous commenters. There are dozens, maybe hundreds of people who could copy my work.”
Her enhanced senses were superior to any lie detector. If Smith was attempting to deceive her, he was better at it than most humans. She pulled out handcuffs and chained his uninjured wrist. She felt certain she hadn’t actually wounded him, but had instead hit one of the doubles. She definitely hadn’t hit him with the pepper gas, but it lingered on his clothes, and his eyes were still watering. It was as if the injuries to the doubles transferred back to the original when the machine failed. Perhaps this mission had given her some useful intelligence after all.
Chimpion pulled out her phone. With a sigh, she noticed that a single grain of buckshot had punched into it, killing it. She eyed a dirty yellow phone next to the refrigerator.
“Aw,” said the man as she picked up the phone. “Don’t get your monkey germs all over the mouthpiece.”
She was tempted to lick his phone but, honestly, she didn’t want his germs either. He cursed loudly as she dialed, but his words didn’t bother her. She was too busy wondering if she was going to be fired by the Covenant on the same day she’d been hired.
Chapter Eleven
Chimp Power
Afull day passed before Chimpion was summoned to the conference room following her debriefing on the Smith mission. She waited patiently for an hour past the time she’d been told to show up. She suspected the wait was intended to cause her anxiety. If so, it wasn’t working. She sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, engaged in deep, conscious breathing. She was as relaxed as she’d ever been when the door finally opened.
Skyrider glided into the room in a standing posture, her feet not touching the floor. Her arms were crossed and her face was a stern mask. They locked eyes. They stared at each other in silence for at least a minute, perhaps two.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sarah said at last.
“I am happy to see you’ve recovered so quickly,” said Chimpion. “Given the seriousness of your injuries—”
“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?” Sarah snapped.
“No.”
“Because it feels like it. You saved my life. I acknowledge that, and I’m grateful. But you think that gave you permission to go off on a rogue mission?”
“I’ve operated on my own most of my career,” said Chimpion. “I wasn’t aware I needed permission to investigate a lead.”
“You don’t know how badly you’ve screwed things up,” said Sarah. “We sent Servant and App back to Smith’s house. His basement’s been stripped bare.”
“It was secured by local authorities before I left,” she said.
“Let’s just say the local authorities haven’t covered themselves in glory.”
“Given how much equipment Smith possessed, it had to be moved with a van or a truck. It should be a simple matter to—”
“Don’t tell me how to conduct an investigation,” said Sarah. “Yes, there are a hundred different ways we might be able to retrieve his equipment. But we wouldn’t need to be searching for it all if you hadn’t tipped off his friends that we were aware of him.”
Chimpion nodded. “Fortunately, before I departed the scene, I planted a tracker on the back of one of the computers in case it went missing. I planned to—”
She was cut short by Sarah dropping a small black object onto the table. It bounced like a ball bearing, making a rapid clicking noise as it came to a halt. “This tracker? It was sitting on top of his stove.”
“Oh,” said Chimpion.
“You were reckless,” said Sarah.
“I took a risk aware of the possibility of failure. I weighed it against the possibility of success.”
“What, exactly, was going to constitute success for you?” asked Sarah. “You couldn’t have known the significance of the names on that list.”
“You’re correct. I didn’t. By investigating the target you’d been assigned to study, I’d hoped to impress you with my initiative and ingenuity.”
“Instead, you’ve proven yourself to be duplicitous and secretive, going behind our backs. You’ve obviously been spying on us, learning how to use the space machine.”
“I reported my enhanced senses and eidetic memory when I was hired. This team had to be aware that if I see or hear things even casually, I can recall them in perfect detail.”
“Which makes you an excellent spy.”
“I think so.”
“Who sent you to spy on us?”
Chimpion shook her head. “No one. I came here to be part of your team, not to betray it.”
“You think what you did yesterday constitutes being ‘part of our team?’”
“Your criticism is valid. I failed. Which is why I’ve decided to leave the team.”
“You’re leaving before you give me the chance to fire you?”
“It saves us both a certain amount of awkwardness,” said Chimpion.
Sarah said nothing. Once again, a long silence developed as they stared at one another.
“Like this awkward moment,” said Chimpion, rising. “May I use the space machine to return to Pangea?”
“Only if you insist on quitting,” said Sarah. “I didn’t come here to fire you.”
“You didn’t?”
“You screwed up yesterday. But you also stopped a dervish attack without breaking a sweat, and saved my life while doing so. You have the potential to be a great team member, and the Covenent needs manpower.”
“Chimp power,” said Chimpion.
“What?”
“I can’t provide manpower, only chimp power.”
“You seriously want to argue about the words I’m using?”
“I’m just engaging in mock disagreement,” said Chimpion. “From observing Servant and App, I assume that increases feelings of camaraderie in your species.”
“Let’s leave ragging on each other to the guys,” said Sarah. “So, you’ll stay?”
“I want this job more than I can express,” said Chimpion.
“Why?” asked Sarah.
“To fulfill the mission of the Covenant, of course,” said Chimpion. “During the recruitment interviews, Servant said that he believes if one has the power to do good, then one had the obligation to do good.”
“Yeah,” said Sarah. “That’s what it says on our website. Now drop the bullshit and be honest. Why are you here?”
“Why don’t you take my words at face value?”
“Unlike Servant, I’m not an idealist. I don’t believe anyone is obligated to do good. I’m not even clear much of the time what good even is. From our very first missions, the Covenant has crossed a lot of ethical boundaries. We once ambushed Pit Geek and Sundancer in the parking lot of a mall, in broad daylight while the place was packed. A lot of people died because of that choice. We knew the risk. We also knew the risk of letting them escape.”
“But they did escape,” said Chimpion.
“Yes. I’ve had to live with the guilt of making that choice. You can see why I’m not going to fire you for making similar errors in judgment.”
“If you’re not an idealist, why do you do this?” asked Chimpion.
Sarah stepped down from the air. She grabbed a chair and slouched into it. “I became a superhero to spite my father.”
“This was when you were the Thrill?”
“You know about that?”
“Is it supposed to be a secret? The Pangean intelligence forces keeps files on all super powered humans. We know your father was Nicholas Knowbokov, and that he trained you to be a superhero.”
Sarah rolled he
r eyes. “Trained? More like coerced. I didn’t want to be a superhero. When I finally gave in, I did so only to prove how dumb the idea was.”
“That is the worst origin story ever,” said Chimpion.
“I won’t argue that.”
“He’s been dead a long time. Why are you still doing this?”
Sarah shrugged. “I ask myself that a lot. This isn’t my whole life. I have… this will sound corny… I have a secret identity.”
“App said he thought you might. He says you don’t really hang around the island much when you aren’t on missions.”
“I have a life outside of being Skyrider,” said Sarah. “I run my own business. And… I’m married.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She looked reluctant to say more, but took a breath and continued. “It’s the life I’ve wanted. A normal life. I found a man who loves me as me, not as some comic book poster girl come to life.”
“What does he think about your life as Skyrider?”
“He doesn’t know,” said Sarah.
“He doesn’t know? How can you explain—”
“All the time I’m missing? I’m a charter pilot. I can always say I got a last second call from a client. Plus he works crazy hours, so even before I went back into the crime-fighting biz, we’d sometimes go days barely seeing each other.”
“So what made you come back to this life?”
Sarah sighed. “Sundancer. I thought she was dead. Hadn’t heard a peep out of her for seven years. I’d fought her a couple of times as the Thrill. Ordinary cops didn’t stand a chance against her. I couldn’t just let her run amok. I couldn’t return as the Thrill, but with a helmet and some armor I decided I might get away with being Skyrider to fight her.”
“So why did you keep being Skyrider afterwards?”
“A man who means a great deal to me told me once that keeping the world running takes work. Civilization doesn’t just take care of itself. It takes a lot of people bringing their talents to the table to make it hum. My particular talent happens to be that I can fly.”
“And control people with your voice,” said Chimpion.
“No longer,” said Sarah. “I had surgery to remove that power. No regrets. It brought me nothing but grief. I don’t think anyone ever hated me because I could fly. But people still curse my name because they think I could control people’s minds.”
“It’s not just the Pangean’s that believe Skyrider and the Thrill are the same person. Aren’t you frightened that the Thrill’s old enemies might come hunting for Skyrider?”
“I kind of hope for it. My other life, my real life, is priceless to me. You don’t know how many nights I used to lie awake wondering when someone would discover my secret and tear my world apart. But Skyrider makes a nice decoy. If an old enemy wants to come hunting for me, they’ll come here instead of… where I normally live.”
“Where do you normally live?”
“Sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’ve said too much already. Secret identities require some secrets,” said Sarah. She shifted in her chair, leaning toward Chimpion. “Okay. I’ve told you my real reasons for being on the team. What about you? Why the hell would you want to be a superhero?”
Chimpion didn’t answer quickly. Finally, she said, “I… have not had… an easy life.”
“I know about your past,” said Sarah. “You literally had to fight to survive. You were treated as a slave, hurt for people’s amusement. That you’ve stayed sane is a testament to your toughness.”
“That toughness makes it difficult for me to reveal any of my weaknesses. So, please appreciate the effort it requires to say this to you: I’m lonely.”
“I understand,” said Sarah.
“When I returned to Pangea, I thought my years of loneliness would come to an end, but I found no true companionship among the Pangeans. Chimps are more sensitive than humans to non-verbal cues. We pay close attention to body language, facial expressions, even to odors. The ritual of grooming helps chimps form intimate, non-sexual bonds that humans can never understand. It’s something far deeper than friendship.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I was excluded from that bond. I’m part machine. My digital nerve centers make me fast and fluid, but they also distort the simplest of gestures in ways that other chimps find uncomfortable. I don’t even smell like a natural chimp anymore. My biology was altered to accommodate my cybernetic implants. I’m an alien among my own kind.”
“Then you saw us on the news,” said Sarah.
Chimpion nodded. “Yes. A team of elevated humans, and I, an elevated chimp. I hoped, perhaps, for a bond between us that is far stronger than any I could form with a Pangean. Among you… perhaps I’ll no longer feel lonely.”
“I’ll do all I can to make you feel welcome,” said Sarah. “Well, not anything I guess. No grooming.”
“Is a handshake acceptable?” asked Chimpion.
“How about a hug instead?” said Sarah.
Chimpion wrapped her arms around Sarah, knowing she’d earned her whole-hearted trust. She couldn’t wait to tell her real employer that phase one of the mission had been successful. It was safe to move forward with the second phase of the plan.
Chapter Twelve
Debacle
Katrina Knowbokov looked from the window of her penthouse office atop the skyscraper that housed the Knowbokov Foundation. It sat in the center of an island she owned, amid a small and growing city of people she employed. From her vantage point, she could see the airfield in the distance, crowded with planes as reporters from all around the world journeyed to the island. Beyond the airfield, the blue sea stretched to the horizon. She stared at the horizon for a long time, thinking about all that lay beyond. The whole world, seven billion people, all of them her responsibility.
Her late husband Niko had been a powerful telepath. He’d been able to look into the mind of anyone, and willing to leverage the secrets he found into financial and political power. He hadn’t been motivated by greed but by altruism, a desire to end the suffering of mankind, eliminating poverty, disease, hunger, crime, ignorance, and war.
Katrina had killed him, shooting him in the back after a mysterious stranger gave her a hood that concealed her mind from Niko’s thoughts. She’d believed in her heart that her husband was a man of good intentions. But those good intentions combined with his telepathy had transformed him into a monster, willing to blackmail world leaders, willing to turn his own daughters into super-soldiers in his ongoing wars, and willing, almost without a thought, to enslave Katrina. With his telepathy, he’d known her every thought. He’d known how much she’d come to hate him. He’d also known how trapped she was, how she didn’t even have the relief of leaving him, since with his powers he would always still be following her mentally. His solution had been to offer her mood altering pills that would help her deal with her dark thoughts. He treated her hatred of him like a disease, not as the product of his arrogance and immorality.
She’d never faced trial for killing Niko. There was no one with the authority to arrest her. Niko had seen to it that their private island was a sovereign territory, outside the law of any nation. Killing Niko had been an act of passion, but also an act of compassion. His powers were too great for anyone to possess. He’d allowed himself to play God so long he’d come to believe he truly was God, inventing a ridiculous story of how he’d destroyed the old universe and replaced it with one created in his image. He suffered because of this, believing he’d created all evil in the world. With a single bullet, she’d put an end to his fathomless pain, and saved the world from the manipulations of a mad puppet master.
For a year, she’d mourned, torn between unspeakable guilt and indescribable relief. Her daughters were gone. Amelia had fled to Mars, Sarah had simply fled, assuming a series of false identities until she vanished somewhere in Mexico City. Katrina had been utterly alone, though hardly without company. A man with her husband’s wealth commanded a legion of l
awyers, accountants, and business managers looking after his assets. They came to her daily but she never paid much attention to their words. She signed the papers she was told to sign, and retreated back into her mourning. The fact that she hadn’t been defrauded because of her negligence was a final gift from Niko. As a telepath, he hired only people who were completely honest.
Two days after the anniversary of Niko’s death, Katrina had finally awakened to her new reality. One of the accountants, Sonya Kirkland, was discussing the merger of two of the corporations she owned, one a company that produced solar panels, another a company that produced batteries. Merging the two companies would streamline the operations of both. Two hundred jobs could be eliminated, and the savings would lower the cost of the batteries, boosting sales. Katrina had been born in Soviet Russia, fleeing the country with her parents when she was twelve. Her parents had been enthusiastic capitalists in their new American homeland, growing wealthy in real estate in only a few short years. Katrina had enjoyed the luxury that came with their wealth, but sometimes struggled to reconcile it with the lessons she’d learned in school in her childhood. When Sonya mentioned the elimination of two hundred jobs as a benefit of the merger, she found the notion unsettling. Sonya’s manner was utterly professional. She spoke of eliminating the jobs in the same tone she used when discussing restructuring the debt of the two companies. Both were just numbers to Sonya, but only one of the numbers moved Katrina to wake to her responsibilities to make a wise choice. For context, she’d asked how many people worked for the companies owned by her husband.
“Owned by you,” Sonya had corrected her, gently.
“Yes,” she said. “How many people work for me?”
Sonya cleared her throat. “I… don’t have a firm number. My portfolio is your renewable energy holdings, but of course you have major holdings in fossil fuels as well, plus other raw materials like iron. You’re a major shareholder in most car companies, several airlines, and… then of course, there’s your media empire. The drug companies. And the banks. Oh, and insurance.” She picked up a pen and tapped it against a pad, before jotting down numbers. “There are the hospitals you run around the world. Your agricultural holdings. The software corporations…” She furiously scribbled numbers as she spoke in absentminded tones. Her pen stopped for a minute, then she said, with growing enthusiasm, “Telecoms! Oh, and your defense contracts. And, of course, there are people who work directly for the Knowbokov Foundation.”