Worm

by John Mccrae Wildbow

  “You don’t know anything about her?”

  “We mainly see her censoring information,” Prefab said. “Silencing and disappearing people who are talking about sensitive stuff, and doing the same with everyone they talked to. Only details are slipping through the net, now. About Cauldron, about Alexandria, the formulas.”

  “Too much for one person to handle?” I suggested.

  “Speculation from the top is they’ve probably stopped caring,” Prefab said. “Thinkers believe she’s letting things leak, because it doesn’t make sense that they’d keep things this tight and then slip up like they have been.”

  “What’s her classification?”

  “Thinker. Don’t worry about the number. Just run.”

  I frowned.

  “Exactly how many capes are like that?” Leister asked.

  “A handful. Enough.”

  “I’m beginning to feel like I’m out of my depth,” Leister said.

  “You get used to that,” I said. “With the sheer luck involved in powers and the crap we wind up facing on a daily or weekly basis, it’s only a matter of time before you wind up going up against someone you don’t have a chance against.”

  “Yeah, but Fab’s talking-”

  “Prefab,” Prefab growled.

  “Sorry. I mean, Prefab was talking about opponents we couldn’t hope to fight, and I’ve only had two real fights so far. One of them wasn’t even a real fight.”

  “You’re new?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  “I’ve only been a Ward for a month.”

  Only two fights in a month. I felt a pang of envy.

  “Let’s hope there isn’t a fight today,” Prefab said. “But let’s be ready if there is one.“

  We ascended to the rooftop. Dragon’s suit had already landed. A bulky craft, twice the size of a helicopter, with what looked to be a cargo bay. Letters stenciled on the edge of the wing read ‘Kulshedra v0.895′.

  Inside, in boxes, there were butterflies. Innumerable varieties. Sadly, quite a few had died due to a lack of food or being crushed under the weight of the others. The idea was clear. The PRT wanted me to change how I operated. Dragon, at least, was willing to give me the means.

  It was still stupid. Ridiculous.

  The back of the craft opened, giving me access to the hatches. I stepped up onto the ramp and found the buttons to open the boxes.

  “Go, my pretties,” I said, monotone. “Go, seek out my enemies and smother them.”

  They took off, moving in colorful formations, organized by type, drawing fractal shapes in the air as they spread out.

  I stepped down off the ramp to see Leister staring at me.

  “I know you were joking,” Prefab said, “But no smothering.”

  “No smothering,” I said, sighing. I looked up. The sky was darkening. “If there’s a fight, it’s going to be at night. It’d be pretty stupid to use butterflies at night, when half of my tricks are subtle.”

  “You’d have to ask Rime.”

  Was I supposed to use non-butterflies to scout for trouble?

  I considered asking, but I was suspicious I already knew the answer.

  Best not to ask, and beg for forgiveness later.

  Insects and flies moved out over the surrounding cityscape. There were too many buildings here, too many that were sealed off, but I could check rooftops and balconies, and I could investigate the ground. Tens of thousands of people, all in all.

  “Sniper rifle,” I said, in the same instant the thought came together.

  “Wha?” Leister asked, incoherent and confused.

  Prefab’s head snapped my way. “You sure?”

  “I’d point,” I said, “But he’d notice. Our masks and helmets cover our faces, or I’d be worried about lip-reading.”

  “Don’t panic, don’t give away that you’re afraid. Into the craft. Go,” Prefab said.

  I nodded, wishing I had my real costume, though I knew it might not be tough enough to withstand a bullet from a sniper rifle.

  Prefab was the last to step inside, slowing down as he approached the ramp. I could see light glittering around the edges of the roof, growing more intense over the course of seconds. Ten, fifteen seconds passed, until there was more of the light than there were spaces in between. The light was most intense near the edges.

  In a clap of thunder, a rush of wind and a flare of… anti-sparks, crenellated walls appeared, extending fifteen feet up from the lip of the roof’s edge. The sparks, such as they were, were black at their core, surrounded by shadow. They spun in the air before drifting to the ground, where they flickered out of existence.

  “Does that block his line of sight? I can make them taller,” Prefab said.

  “I don’t think he has the right angle to shoot over the wall,” I said.

  “No weapons? Costume?”

  I used my subtler bugs, but he was already packing away the rifle in record time, then swiftly moving away from the roof’s edge. He brushed away my bugs as they converged, kicked a hatch open with his foot, then climbed inside with a speed that almost made me think he’d fallen. Only the fact that the hatch closed firmly after him convinced me otherwise.

  The only way he’d have evaded the swarm like that was if he’d known what I was doing.

  “No costume,” I said. “He brushed away the bugs before I could get anything substantial, but I think… glasses? And a dress shirt. I think he noticed what my bugs are doing. That’s rare.”

  “We’ve got trouble,” Prefab said. I realized he was using his phone. “Sniper on a rooftop nearby. Possible Thinker. Barricades should make for safe elevator exit.”

  “We’re on our way up,” Rime said, through the speaker. “Four capes and the containment box. Hold position, play safe. If Pretender arranged a jailbreak, he won’t have just one person working under him. Arriving in eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…“

  The elevators opened. Rime, Arbiter, Vantage and Usher made their way out, wheeling a box along with them.

  “Password?” Prefab asked.

  “Twenty-three-aleph-pater-newfoundland-washington-vikare,” Rime said. “Arbiter’s group is already confirmed, they haven’t left my sight. First half of your first password?”

  “Eight-nine-three-scion,” he responded. “And the other two are clear.”

  “Good. Let’s move. A hand?”

  Prefab gave Rime a hand in moving the box. It couldn’t have been comfortable: four feet by six feet by four feet. Enough to stand in, but not enough to lie down. The thing had four wheels, and was dense enough that it took some muscle to get it up the ramp. I would have joined in, if I didn’t fear I would get in the way more than I’d help. I wasn’t the strongest person around. Fit, yes, but not strong.

  Instead, I focused on bringing my butterflies back. I couldn’t get them all back in time, but a loss of a hundred or so wasn’t a tragedy.

  A loss of all of the butterflies wouldn’t be a tragedy. I’d feel bad, if only because of the trouble Dragon likely went through in acquiring them, but yeah.

  Gosh, if they all just happened to die or get left behind, maybe I’d have to use something else. Tragic.

  They finally managed to settle the box at the center of the cargo bay, pulling a switch to close clasps at the base of it, lowering a solid metal pillar from the roof to the top of the box.

  I doubted it would budge if someone crashed a bus into it.

  I called back some of the butterflies closest to me, keeping others around the building with the sniper. He hadn’t set up again.

  “I’m worried about that sniper,” I said. “If he was coming after us, why is he giving up so easily? If he wasn’t coming after us, who was he after? A civilian?”

  “Identify the building as we get airborne.”

  “Through a window?” I asked, looking forward, to the ‘head’ of the craft, that looked out onto the city.

  “Bulletproof glass or no, let’s stay away from the windows for now,
” Rime said. “Kulshedra, show Weaver what your cameras see.”

  Monitors changed from red text on a black background to high-resolution images of the surrounding walls and rooftop, a different image for each one.

  A second later, the ramp closed, and we took to the air, the craft vibrating softly.

  I studied the monitors, watching, getting a sense of the surroundings and of which buildings corresponded with what I was looking at.

  “Kulshedra,” I said, pretty sure I was mangling the name, “The leftmost monitor on your left side. Zoom in, a little up and left. There. Building to the left of the one in the dead center.”

  I tapped the screen as the ship highlighted the building in question.

  “Good job, Weaver,” Rime said, peering at the monitor.

  “Was on the roof, moved below through hatch when I used my bugs. Hasn’t left the building,” I said.

  Rime touched her earbud. “Vegas teams, be advised, armed individual in a building at… 125 West Sahara.”

  “It’s port,” Leister murmured to me.

  “Huh?”

  “You said ‘left side of the ship. It’s port.”

  “Isn’t that boats?” I asked.

  “Can be aircraft.”

  “Best leave it,” Vantage said. “Leister’s a little stubborn.”

  “So am I,” I said.

  “Maybe ‘tenacious’ is the word you want,” Vantage offered. “There aren’t a lot of people who get knocked out and still manage to win a fight.”

  “Are you all this pedantic?” I asked.

  Vantage only laughed, though I saw Rime glancing at me, and she didn’t look pleased.

  “Alexandria was always hard on us,” Arbiter said. Her voice had a strange tone to it, oddly melodic, “Getting us to focus on grades, extracurricular stuff, on top of what we did as a part of the team.”

  “We were challenged to be better than the other teams in everything, academics included,” Vantage said. “But we were the only team with a leader who cared about it.”

  “Except the capes in Fresno,” Arbiter said. “I was still a Ward, then.”

  Vantage smiled, “Oh yeah. The bastards in Fresno. They caught on, probably because we were complaining so much. Small team, but they started studying like crazy, just so we’d be in second place, academically. Didn’t matter why we were second, Alexandria was still annoyed at us.”

  “All those sermons on being top-notch, on acting like the people we wanted to be, and… she turned out to be a monster,” Arbiter said.

  “A monster slain by Weaver, here,” Usher spoke.

  All at once, I felt very on the spot. Each of the capes here, Rime and Prefab excluded, had worked with Alexandria in some capacity. Except Rime and Prefab were team leaders, and Defiant had commented on how every cape in a position of power had some experience working under the Triumvirate, so even they knew her to some extent.

  “Weaver did what had to be done,” Rime said. “Not pretty, not kind, but sometimes you have to use a knife to cut out a cancer.”

  All eyes were on me. Nobody was speaking.

  “I asked you to come along on this job for a reason, Weaver,” Rime said. “I’ve read the incident reports that involved your interactions with the PRT and the groups under the PRT’s umbrella. The bank robbery, the fundraiser, the theft of the database with the Shadow Stalker kidnapping, and your ultimate surrender, a little over a week ago.”

  I nodded, not sure where she was going, not wanting to interrupt.

  “On the latter two occasions, you and your team perverted the natural course of justice. You pretended to be defeated by Shadow Stalker in order to ambush the Wards, and you later surrendered, only to get off rather lightly for your crimes.”

  “I think I follow,” I said. I glanced at the others, but they were all busy trying not to look like they were listening to our conversation.

  Rime nodded, “It’s about-”

  The ship lurched, and Rime broke off mid-sentence to catch herself before she fell to the floor. Usher fell and nearly slid across the floor, but Vantage caught him.

  “Kulshedra!” Rime shouted, “Report!”

  “Incoming fire. Taking evasive maneuvers.”

  “The sniper,” I said.

  “Not likely,” the ship reported. “Unless the sniper is capable of moving great distances, he is approximately point seven three five miles away. The missile came from a perpendicular direction.“

  “Missile?” Leister asked, sounding very alarmed.

  “Projectile,” the ship corrected. “Humanoid in shape.”

  I saw Leister relax a fraction at that, which I found oddly charming. He was relieved it was just a person. Experience told me that small-to-medium sized explosives were less daunting than the prospect of fighting an unknown parahuman.

  “Let me out, Kulshedra,” Rime said, “Before they attack again. Follow my orders on comm channel two.”

  The back of the ship cracked open, and wind rushed into the cabin. Several of my butterflies were torn free of their roosts.

  “Prefab’s in charge,” Rime said.

  “Got it,” Prefab answered.

  “Usher?” Rime asked. “Hit me.”

  Usher didn’t respond, still struggling a bit with his precarious position, holding on to Vantage’s hand. He did close his eyes, and Rime began to glow, a sheen radiating over her hair, skin and costume.

  With that, she was gone, pushing her way out of her seat, leaping and taking flight, flying out of the open hatch.

  An instant later, the ship swayed again. Prefab used his power to create a short half-dome over Usher. The back hatch closed, and Usher was finally able to relax, with solid ground and something to hold on to.

  “Projectile was rotating rapidly, along both horizontal and vertical axes. Rendering composite image from video footage.“

  The monitors showed a gray expanse, but it began to rapidly take shape in what was first a distorted sphere, then a crude face, and finally a face complete with details.

  Arbiter, Vantage, Leister and Prefab all groaned in unison. I suspected Usher might have joined in if he had a better angle..

  “Fuck you, Pretender,” Vantage muttered. “Fuck you. You had to hire the worst mercenaries possible, didn’t you? You asshole.”

  I looked at the image. Not a face I knew, but one I recognized from TV, from the internet, and one very brief encounter.

  “That’s B-”

  The ship swerved, but it didn’t manage to avoid the hit this time around. This time, the shifting center of gravity was compounded by a sudden impact, heavy enough to cave in the front of the craft. Each and every one of us were thrown out of our seats.

  From there, things went south quickly. No longer flightworthy, the ship struggled to maintain altitude. Bugs that had collected on the outside of the ship made me aware of how the jets that had been driving the craft forward were now angling towards the ground. They worked double time to keep the Kulshedra from spinning as it fell and to give downward thrust to counteract the pull of gravity.

  Rime’s power froze the Kulshedra in mid-descent, catching it between two buildings, suspended in the midst of a bridge of ice.

  The projectile struck us again, from directly above. The ice to our left, our port side, shattered.

  “Seatbelts on!” Prefab bellowed. “Hold on tight if you can’t get to one! Deep breath, don’t tense with the impact!”

  I climbed up to a point where there were benches, and belted myself in. One over each shoulder, one over my lap. The headrest- it wasn’t there. There was only metal. My butterflies found the real headrest above me. I reached up and found the clasps to lower the softer bundle until it sat at the right height to cushion any impacts.

  The ice on our starboard side cracked, an agonizing, gradual break. My heart leaped into my chest as we plunged towards the street below.

  The Kulshedra hit ground, and the impact was so heavy my thoughts were jarred out of my head. For long se
conds, I couldn’t think, but could only experience, could only feel every part of my body hurt, aches and pains I didn’t know I had magnified by the jolt.

  It was a small relief that my passenger didn’t take the opportunity to act without my consent. I was bewildered enough without any added complications, stunned, sore where the straps had pulled against my shoulders and gut.

  “Kulshedra!” Prefab shouted. “Lights on!”

  “Auxilary offline. Emergency lighting failed in six attempts carried out in two seconds.”

  “Uhhhh,” he said, drawing out the sound, “Damage report?”

  “A.I. bank one offline. Aux offline. Propulsion offline. Weapons offline. Helm offline.“

  “Why are you speaking strangely?” I called out.

  “A.I. bank one offline. Advanced linguistics, memory, geography-“

  “Enough,” Prefab said, cutting it off.

  I almost told him to let it continue, just so we had an idea, but he was the boss.

  “Protectorate, Wards, sound off!” Prefab shouted.

  “Arbiter. Fine.”

  “Vantage, mildly injured,” Vantage said. “My hand.”

  “Usher, bleeding from a bad scrape, but otherwise okay.”

  “Weaver,” I said, “I’m fine.”

  There was a pause.

  “Leister?” Prefab asked.

  “Mostly okay,” Leister said, but his voice sounded strained. “Took a hit to the gut.”

  “Let’s get ourselves sorted out,” Prefab said. “If you can reach your phones, use them for light. There’s an exec on the second page, if you haven’t mucked with them to add ten pages of games.”

  “Don’t-” Leister said, still sounding odd, “Don’t diss the games, when you make us sit around waiting for stuff all the time.”

  I didn’t get a phone yet, I thought. But hey, I’ve got the damn butterflies.

  At my order, the butterflies that had been clustered on the outside of their cage took flight, spreading out over the ship’s interior.

  I spoke, “Kulshedra. Roof got crushed, lights with them, am I right?”

  “Yes.“

  “No lights in floor?”

  “Not at present. Standard floor fixtures in Kulshedra model precursor were removed for containment box fixtures. Lights included.”