Worm

by John Mccrae Wildbow

  “No,” Aisha said. “Wait, did anyone think that? Because I was thinking this was more us trying to decide what the hell we need to do before we throw ourselves into one final, suicidally reckless attack.”

  “Basically,” I said. “Minus the suicidally reckless part. There’s other stuff we can try first. But yeah. I think we’re mostly on the same page here.”

  “Go out fighting,” Rachel said.

  “Go out fighting, ” Tattletale confirmed.

  “Nothing held back,” I added. “Right. I’ll need my stuff.”

  “Put the pack and what’s left of your costume aside. I can go get it anytime.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ll need help,” Tattletale said.

  “Parian and Foil? Can we get them onboard?”

  “Probably, if we can come up with a convincing argument.”

  I nodded, thinking. “What about Shadow Stalker? Any idea where she is?”

  “She’s around. You think you can convince her?”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  “We need a plan, first and foremost,” Tattletale said, “If we’ve got one, we’ll be able to get others on board.”

  “There are possibilities,” I said. “Need to knock some heads, get people on board, get morale up. Fix some of the crises that’ve come up, deal with the people who are fucking the system and making everyone else think there’s no hope.”

  Tattletale glanced at me as if I’d said something that provoked a thought, and then she smiled.

  I couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t a real smile. Her poker face.

  “You coming, Despairy Canary?” Tattletale asked.

  I could see the hesitation cross Canary’s face.

  “Yeah. I’ll come. Might not be, uh, knocking heads, but maybe there’s something we can resolve with my power. Nonviolent resolution.”

  “With a song and dance number,” Aisha said. She leaned forward and took hold of Canary’s hands. “Like a kid’s movie! Sing a song and fix problems!”

  “Um,” Canary said. She looked between Tattletale and me. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”

  “Just ignore me,” Aisha advised, adopting the demeanor of the veteran bestowing wisdom onto the novice. “Everyone else does.”

  “I guess I’ll try.”

  We gathered ourselves together, and we began making our way downstairs in two groups, with Aisha still holding Canary’s hand, leading the way. Tattletale, Rachel and I followed.

  My body still felt weird, but the alien sensations weren’t as pronounced. I was getting used to it.

  “Thanks for looking after me,” I commented.

  “Not a problem,” Tattletale said.

  “Before, you were bluffing. Can I ask? It changes how I deal with this. How much I give it, the risks I take. Can you tell me honestly that this isn’t hopeless?”

  “Honestly?” Tattletale asked. She trailed off.

  Answer enough.

  I glanced at Rachel.

  Tattletale practically seemed to read my mind. “She doesn’t give a damn.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” Rachel echoed.

  I nodded. “You’ve been wrong before, Tattletale. About important stuff.”

  “I have. See, this is the part where I can either lie to you or tell you the truth.”

  “Truth. If it doesn’t spoil the mood too much. I don’t want to hear, like, Dinah said a hundred percent chance we’re wiped out.”

  “Nothing like that. But there’s evidence. Enough for me to connect dots.”

  “You’re talking about the kid that speaks funny,” Rachel said. “The fairy whatsit. You were watching her video.”

  Tattletale sighed.

  “What?”

  “There’s moments I adore you, my adorable canine crusader, and there’s moments I hate you. All too often, they’re the same moments.”

  “Whatever.”

  “And that there is another case in point,” Tattletale said. She smiled, looking at me. “So yeah.”

  Weaver or Skitter would have pressed for the truth. During the Echidna incident, I’d gone to great lengths to strive for honesty and full disclosure. Had it worked out? Maybe. Maybe not. It had meant a lot right then, but it had sort of screwed me after I’d surrendered to the PRT.

  But Taylor? Taylor had lived a lie, had spent some time wallowing in ignorance. Ignorance of what Tattletale really knew, ignorance of what Coil was doing. Ignorance of what real monsters were capable of.

  And then I’d donned the mantle of Skitter, I’d become the warlord. Later, I’d gone on to become Weaver, where I felt less like myself than ever.

  The Taylor days had been some of the best days, in a way. Not my greatest moments, but some of my most cherished ones, yes.

  “Do I need to know, Tattletale?” I asked. “For this? Does it provide any crucial information, for dealing with any of the stuff we’ve got to deal with?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But probably not right away.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then I can wait. Let me enjoy some blissful ignorance for just a little while longer, while we make our way out there, try to save the world from itself, if not from Scion.”

  “Deal,” she answered.

  28.02

  After seeing Tattletale’s setup with the multiple monitors and computers running in sync, the bulletin boards with pictures and cue cards tacked all over them, it was odd to see one of the world’s best tinkers sitting down with only a small laptop propped on his knee. Narwhal stood just a short distance away, leaning against a wall, a book in her hands. Her costume was skintight, but it took the form of innumerable ‘scales’ of violet-blue tinted crystal, each no larger than a fingernail. Her horn had been redesigned, arcing in a crescent curve.

  With the dragon-themed armor that covered him from head to toe, it wasn’t possible to see Defiant sigh, but I could use my swarm to catch the increased output of air through the vents near his mouth.

  Both Narwhal and Defiant were facing the cell at the far end of the room. A man sat within. Muscular, late twenties or early thirties, with his head shaved, a faint tattoo of a cross on his face. He sat on the edge of a cot, and was tall enough he could slouch back and lean against the wall.

  Narwhal noticed our approach and closed her book, creating a thin shard of forcefield to act as a bookmark, then two more to hold the cover and back of the book. She pushed it aside, and it floated a distance to her right, stopping in midair, in her reach but not in the way.

  “Thank you for coming,” Defiant said. He stood, but his attention was on the laptop. Too much information to keep track of with Dragon’s share of the work on top of his own, probably.

  “No prob,” Tattletale said.

  “I can point you in the right direction, but I was hoping you’d have words with Saint first,” he said. His helmet was turned in Tattletale’s direction.

  “Awesome,” she said. She looked at Saint, who looked away, his eyebrows drawing together in concern as he stared at the wall.

  “Protocol,” Narwhal said. “Let me apologize in advance. I’ll need to verify there’s no trouble before I allow you to speak to Saint. We have to maintain some form of order.”

  “I love order,” Imp said. “Rules, regulations, they make the world go ’round, eh?”

  Defiant turned to stare at her.

  Tattletale glanced at me. “Do you want to split up? I can handle this while you guys are doing something else. Not the Yàngbǎn. They shouldn’t attack again tonight, not so soon, not if their goal is demoralizing and destabilizing the West. They’ll wait. Maybe the Elite?”

  “No,” I said.

  Splitting up made sense, but I was done with being apart from the others, agonizing over how they were doing. It was distracting, and distractions were something I wasn’t willing to deal with.

  “No? Just no?”

  “No breaking up the group. I want to gather our forces. We succeed as a group, we fail as a group. Everyone sti
cks together, and we add to our forces whenever we can.”

  She nodded. “I can roll with that.”

  “Right then, I know most of you,” Narwhal said. “Weaver, of course, we’ve met enough times. I liked your last book recommendation.”

  “I’m glad,” I said.

  “Tattletale,” Narwhal greeted her, a little less warmly, “Hellhound-”

  “Bitch. My enemies call me Hellhound,” Rachel said.

  “Ah, I’m very sorry,” Narwhal said. She looked genuinely upset at the mistake. “The others, I’m not familiar with.”

  “Imp and Canary,” I said.

  Narwhal glanced at Aisha. Of our group, only Tattletale was wearing her full costume. Aisha, Rachel, Canary and I weren’t wearing ours. “No masks?”

  Imp shrugged. “World’s ending. It’s a way to get in the right headspace, eh? We were talking to Taylor there a bit ago, and what we’re thinking is it’s stupid to spend our time keeping little secrets when there’s bigger fish to fry? Like it’s stupid to dwell on revenge or any of that. So it’s symbolic, isn’t it? A statement? Eh?”

  Narwhal looked at the yellow-haired girl. “You went without the mask for the same reason?”

  Canary shook her head. “No.”

  “Canary is a rogue,” Defiant said. “And a onetime inmate of the Birdcage. She never wore a costume.”

  Narwhal glanced at Defiant. “Do you know them, then?”

  He nodded. “Well enough. There’s no risk in letting them near Saint. Imp is a stranger-five, Canary is a master eight, but I would be very, very surprised if she had taken control of anyone here for the purposes of misleading us or breaking Saint out.”

  “Surprised in what sense? The nature of her power? Because of Weaver and the Undersiders? Or because Canary isn’t that type?”

  “I somehow doubt the Undersiders would allow it, and yes, Canary isn’t the type.”

  “Why couldn’t people have given me that benefit of a doubt during my trial?” Canary asked.

  “Dragon did. She went through every legitimate channel possible in an attempt to help you,” Defiant answered. “The moment the topic of Birdcage inmates first came up, she had you on a list of release candidates. I used that list when we were negotiating the deal.”

  I glanced at Canary. She was staring at Defiant, her expression concerned.

  “So she’s the reason I’m free?”

  Defiant nodded.

  “I owe her, then,” Canary said, as if she’d made a decision.

  “Yes. Probably.”

  Saint hadn’t taken his eyes off us.

  Narwhal shifted position. She had enough presence, between her height, her stunning appearance and her power, that this gesture alone was enough to grab our attention. “If you and Dragon are willing to vouch for Canary, I’m okay with that. Given the name and her unusual voice, I assume her master power is leveraged through her voice?”

  “Yes,” Defiant said.

  “I’d ask we at least acknowledge the possibility she was influenced or compromised in the Birdcage. Would you be alright with staying silent for the time being, Canary?”

  Canary frowned, then nodded.

  “Imp, please keep your distance from the cell.”

  “Sure thing, eh.”

  Tattletale reached over to slap Imp over the back of the head, and Imp ducked out of the way. Tattletale groused, “You’re annoying me more than you’re getting to her. Stop it.”

  Narwhal turned on the spot, facing Saint square-on, and I got the immediate sense that she had some kind of military background. Another part of me was idly aware that her chest didn’t sway that much, all things considered. The nature of the shard-covering she wore made it pretty clear she wasn’t wearing a bra, but…

  Right. The same effect she’d used to move the book was holding her entire body. All of the benefits of a full, athletic figure, none of the drawbacks.

  I was still a little weirded out that she didn’t wear any clothes. In a sense, the scales covered more than a bikini would, but there were no lines or solid objects to break up the natural contours of her body.

  “Undersiders, Weaver, Canary, this is Saint, leader of the Dragonslayers. Geoff Pellick. The only tinker-zero on record, having no powers but some access to tinker technology. He is currently under watch by the Guild and the Protectorate due to his extensive assets and the high chances that he hired someone to break him out in the event that he was arrested. His teammates are being held in other locations, to ensure that no one breakout attempt can free them all.”

  “Dragon’s nemesis,” Defiant added. “He crippled her, rendering her out of commission until he relents. He did this at a critical juncture, compromising our efforts, costing good capes their lives outside Ellisburg. To top it off, he denied many of the capes in this room any reinforcement or rescue when we sought to pursue the Nine, leaving us at the mercy of Nilbog’s minions.”

  Saint spoke, his tone dry, “Am I on trial, cyborg?”

  “I’m merely reminding everyone present who they are dealing with.”

  “Should I illuminate everyone present on who I was dealing with?” Saint asked.

  “If you’re talking about Defiant being Armsmaster, we already know,” I said.

  “I’m talking about Dragon.”

  I glanced at Defiant. I had my theories, but it remained a secret. One that Dragon and Defiant had both kept even as I’d gotten to know them better.

  Defiant nodded slowly. “Tell them, then.”

  Saint glanced over the entire room, as if assessing us, trying to judge who his allies and enemies might be in the wake of whatever revelation he had to share.

  “Dragon is a robot. A computer program,” Tattletale said.

  Saint’s mouth was open, as if he’d been about to speak. He shut it. He looked mildly annoyed. “Yes.”

  I glanced at Tattletale, who nodded a little. In the corner of my eye, I could see Imp look at Rachel, surprise on her face. Rachel didn’t seem to care.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Defiant. Dragon’s a tinker-made artificial intelligence. I initially thought you made her-”

  Defiant started a slow shake of his head.

  “-But no. That’d make your relationship incestuous, and you don’t give me that kind of vibe. Someone that isn’t active anymore, probably dead. She was burdened down with nasty restrictions, the same restrictions that led to her outing Taylor here, despite her reservations. Rules she had to obey no matter what…”

  My eyebrows went up. It was a situation that had always baffled me, just a little, and yet I hadn’t been able to press them for an answer. I hadn’t wanted to get on bad terms, or to be anything but civil and cooperative.

  She really hadn’t had a choice?

  “More or less correct,” Defiant said. “We were friends before any of this happened.”

  Saint smiled, then shook his head. “Friends? She’s a machine. Any emotion she has is calculated. You’re anthropomorphizing her, applying human qualities where there aren’t any.”

  “I bet you’re one of those guys who says dogs can’t feel true affection for their owners, that it’s all learned behaviors that get them more food or whatever,” Tattletale said.

  Rachel folded her arms. Saint only rolled his eyes.

  “Well,” Tattletale said. “Said restrictions are why she went to Armsmaster, who would later become Defiant. Getting the shackles off.”

  “Yes,” Defiant said.

  “Yes,” Saint echoed Defiant. He then added, “Which should be enough information for you to see this all in a new light. Dragon was on the cusp of becoming something entirely different. Something more dangerous than Scion. She’s a machine with no limits but the one that her creator gave her.”

  There was a quiet moment, where nobody interjected with a response.

  And then Imp spoke. “We could have really fucking used a buddy with no limits fighting on our side, couple days ago.”

  “Perhaps,” Saint sai
d. “I won’t deny that she would have been useful, but I did what I did because we were anticipating a world-ending event, and I was looking at a program that was taking control of all data and media, worldwide, unfettered and increasingly ruthless in dealing with her enemies.”

  “The enemies were the Slaughterhouse Nine,” Defiant said.

  “And you honestly expect her to rein everything in, switch off the nigh-omniscient perspective and return to her day-to-day life when that ends?”

  “And now you’re the one applying human qualities to her,” Defiant said.

  “Stop,” Narwhal said.

  The discussion terminated with that one word.

  “I’d say I’m sorry to dish all the details,” Tattletale said. “Except I’m really not. I wanted to take the wind out of your sails, there. You leave my friends to die, you don’t deserve to look cool. You don’t deserve to phrase everything in a way that’s more likely to get people on your side.”

  “Petty.”

  “Says the guy who’s apparently hot for Teacher,” she said.

  “Ah, now it begins. The hunt for details through loaded words and tells, masked in jokes and needling insults.”

  “Damn straight,” Imp said.

  “I’ll make it simple for you. I don’t know what Teacher is planning.” Some of my bugs flowed into the cell. Saint moved his hand as a fly settled on a finger. He looked irritated.

  Still, it didn’t matter that he knew the bugs were present. I wasn’t trying to be discreet. I only wanted the bugs on him to track his movements. Even the smallest movement was perceptible. I could watch his face and feel his every movement to track him for tells.

  “Well, that ends this, doesn’t it?” Tattletale said. “You don’t know anything, so you’re no use to us. Might as well lock you up and lose the key.”

  “I’m not happy with him, though, and I can tell you what I know about him.”

  “From the beginning,” Defiant said.

  “I was just starting out, tracking and investigating Dragon, when I came across one of Teacher’s subjects. He gave me my in. Gave me the ability to learn the ins and outs of her code, like I was a genius who had a natural knack for it. That got the Dragonslayers started.”