Worm

by John McCrae

  I sighed and draped my arm over my eyes, my nose in the crook of my elbow.

  I spent a long span of time in the twilight of near-sleep, trying not to listen to the murmurs of people’s voices in the main hub. Idly, I wondered how much time was passing. Where was Khonsu attacking now?

  A lot of people crossed my mind, too. Enemies, allies. How were they dealing? My dad had fired off emails, asked that I let him know before I joined the fight, and right after I got away safely.

  For every cogent thought that crossed my mind, two or three stray thoughts followed. The devastation, scenes burned into my mind’s eye. People caught and left to die of dehydration in Khonsu’s fields.

  Somewhere in the midst of that, I managed to drift off, the recollections becoming dreams, or something close enough to feel like it was an immediate transition.

  My uneasy rest was interrupted by a touch to my shoulder.

  My eyes opened, and I could see the vague shape of a woman standing over me.

  Mom?

  I was awake and alert in an instant, but she was already turning away. Not my mom. Dark haired, but too short. Both of my parents were taller than her.

  I only recognized her when I saw the doorway. A rectangle of light, almost glaringly bright, just beside my closet.

  “Hey,” I said, as I hopped up from my bed.

  She didn’t respond. She was already gone.

  But the doorway remained open.

  I had to cross the length of my quarters to see the interior. A dark hallway, with only dim lighting cast by tubes recessed into the ceiling. The woman in the suit wasn’t on the other side.

  I accessed the various storage containers for the bugs I was keeping in the workshop upstairs. Beetles navigated the trap that kept them from flying out, then made contact with various touch panels, opening the cages where the various individual species were kept.

  As a mass, they flowed down the stairs and into the hub. The Wards who were at the command center and watching the monitor stood, alarmed, as the mass of bugs made their way across the room to my quarters.

  “Taylor.” It was Tecton speaking, hurrying to the door of my room.

  The bugs filtered into my quarters through the space where the walls joined, and beneath the door.

  My swarm entered the hallway. No traps. The woman in the suit was standing off to one side. I stood at the threshold, and glanced down at the tracking device that was strapped to my ankle. What the hell would happen if I stepped through?

  I supposed I’d find out. I stepped through in the same moment Tecton opened the door.

  The rectangular portal closed, and I was left staring at a wall. I turned to see the woman in the suit. She was tidy, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail with strands tracing the side of her face, and she held a fedora in one hand. The hat was beaded with moisture. Another excursion she’d made before reaching out to me?

  I was going to speak, when I noticed another presence. A non-presence. It was a shift of air currents that seemed unprovoked, affecting certain bugs when it should have touched other bugs in front or behind them.

  The topographical sense I got from the movements of my bugs suggested a woman’s form, nude. It wasn’t entirely gone when another appeared across the room. The way they moved in sync- not two people. One person, if she could be called a person; a phantom, flowing through the space around me and the woman in the suit.

  The woman in the suit extended the hand that didn’t hold her hat, directing me to a doorway.

  I glanced at the woman, noting how there wasn’t a trace of the anxiety or exhaustion that everyone else seemed to show. My swarm checked the path.

  There were people I recognized on the other side. I stepped through.

  The area was dark, but there was ambient light from a series of panels. Large panels, floor to ceiling, eighteen by five feet, had been erected in a general circle. Two accompanying panels, only two or three feet wide, were set up on either side of each larger panel, to cast light at a slightly different angle. A bar sat at just below waist height, a semicircle, simultaneously a handrest and a way of indicating a boundary the designated parties weren’t to cross.

  A different person or group of people at each station, lit from behind rather than the front. The light from the other stations barely reached them, which meant their features weren’t well illuminated. Distinct silhouettes, with only a few more reflective materials catching the light.

  I ventured up to the panel closest to the door I’d entered. Tattletale stood there, and I deigned to stand just behind her and to her left. Grue, I saw, was leaning against the panel itself, his arms folded. Tattletale glanced at me and smiled, and I could just barely make out the white of her teeth.

  “Asked if they’d pick you up,” she murmured.

  “Thank you,” I said. “What is this?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.

  She turned her attention forward, and then she was taking it in. I didn’t want to interrupt her, with the amount of information she was doubtlessly gathering. It was obvious, considering the general presence of those who’d gathered, even if I could only recognize a handful.

  Opposite us, Chevalier’s silhouette was unmistakable. His cannonblade was too distinct. Exalt stood to his left, and a cape I didn’t recognize stood to the right. I wondered momentarily if it would count against me that I was standing here. It hadn’t been by choice, exactly, but it wouldn’t look good that I was with the Undersiders.

  Bugs helped me make out Dragon and Defiant at the station to Chevalier’s left. Both wore their power armor, but apparently the presence of firepower wasn’t a concern, here.

  For the most part, that was where my ability to recognize people stopped.

  To my left, there was a man in power armor with his face bared. The tattoo across his face reflected a dark blue-green in an odd way, as though he stood beneath a blacklight, flecks of light… only the fragments flowed. No, they were traveling a circuit, instead. Faintly blue, the glimmers traveled a circuit that marked the interior of an elaborate, stylized cross, his eyes unlit shadows in the midst of the two horizontal bars.

  I could make out a station with a woman, black, accompanied by a massive shadow of a monster with an auroch’s skull for a head. The woman’s head hung, her hair braided or bound into dreads, I couldn’t be sure. I moved my bugs closer to check to see if she had any weapons, and her pet shadow reached out to block the swarm. They died so quickly it was almost as though the shadow had killed before it made contact.

  I decided to leave her alone.

  Further down, hard to make out due to the angle of the panel that framed them, there was a small crowd. A young girl stood at the forefront, and others were gathered around and behind her. My bugs noted twelve people gathered in front of the panel.

  Another station had only a woman and a man sitting at a table that had been set out. The man had his hands folded neatly in front of him, and the light from neighboring panels was reflected on the large-frame glasses he wore. The woman leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Dark skinned, with some kind of pin in her hair. My bugs traced their hips – the area least likely to be unclothed, and I noted the presence of ordinary clothing. A button up shirt for him, a knee-length skirt and blouse with accompanying lab coat for her.

  Three men in robes that bore a striking resemblance to Phir Sē’s were arranged to our right.

  “One moment longer,” the woman in the lab coat said.

  “Quite alright,” a man answered her, from the group of twelve. “I’m really quite excited. Been a rather long time since I’ve had a breath of fresh air.”

  “Hush, Marquis,” the girl at the front of that particular group spoke, and her voice was a chorus, a number of people speaking in sync, “I will not have you speaking out of turn. Our hosts have been gracious to invite us, you will not offend them and besmirch my reputation by association.“

  “My sincere apologies.” />
  Marquis? I had to search for the name for a moment. Then I stopped. That Marquis?

  Another panel lit up, and the circle was complete. My bugs found the people gathered in front, allowing me to investigate that crowd, who had silhouettes I couldn’t make out in the jumble. A woman with a ponytail and a number of monstrous parahumans behind her… Faultline.

  The woman in the suit arrived in the room, crossing through the darkness at the center with the steady taps of her shoe heels against the hard floor.

  She joined the man with the glasses and dress shirt and the woman with the lab coat. It clicked for me.

  Cauldron. I was looking at the people behind Cauldron. I felt a chill, despite myself.

  “Ms. Alcott declined to join us,” the woman in the lab coat said. “As did Adalid, who wanted to be ready to defend his home in case the new Endbringer arrived there. The three blasphemies and Jack Slash were unreachable, but we would have far fewer problems if individuals like them could be reached so easily.”

  Except you didn’t do anything about Jack when it counted, I thought.

  “We reached out to a number of major powers and sources of information, and you are the ones who responded. As useful as it might be to have the Yàngbǎn or Elite with us, I’m almost glad that we can have this discussion with only those who are truly committed. Thank you for coming. I go by Doctor Mother, and I am the founder of Cauldron.”

  I could hear a growl from within Faultline’s group. They were directly opposite Doctor Mother, as far away as they could have been.

  Probably sensible, all things considered. Cauldron was to blame for the case fifty-threes. I suspected they could have handled themselves if anyone in Faultline’s group were to attack, but setting a distance between the two groups made sense.

  “Look,” Tattletale said, abruptly, “Let’s cut past the formality bullshit. I know a lot of you are big on that sort of thing, but we should talk nitty-gritty tactics sooner than later, especially considering the amount of squabbling that’s sure to happen.”

  “Agreed,” Chevalier said, from across the room.

  “Mense sterf elke sekonde van elke dag. Babas sterf in die moederskoot en die kinders doodgeskiet soos honde. Vroue word verkrag en vermoor en nagmerries skeur mans uitmekaar om te fees op hul binnegoed,” the woman with the skull-headed shadow said, her voice quiet and level. I was startled to see that it was a human skull, now.

  “I gave you the ability to understand and speak English,” a man in the group of twelve said. “It wouldn’t cost you anything to use it.”

  “Ek sal nie jou tong gebruik nie, vullis,” the woman replied, her voice still quiet, though it was flecked with anger, just a bit of an edge.

  The man sighed, “Well, I could use my power on everyone else here, but somehow I don’t think the offer would be accepted.”

  Another person in that group, a woman, spoke. “She doesn’t believe in using English. Her first statement was, to paraphrase, ‘People die every day’.”

  “Helpful,” Tattletale commented. “Enough with the bullshit and posturing. We were brought here for one reason. Well, a lot of reasons, but the main one that ties us all together is that we’ve got that monster rampaging around and we’re not making headway. We whittle him down, he heals. Scion attacks, he teleports, and the golden fool doesn’t follow. So let’s be honest, let’s talk about this and introduce ourselves before we say anything so we’re not completely in the dark-”

  “Some of us have identities to keep private,” the man with the cross on his face said.

  “We can’t bullshit around about secrecy and all that. We need to dust off our weapons and the schemes we’ve been keeping on the back burner and hit that motherfucker. More than half of us have cards we’re keeping up our sleeves for a rainy day. Someone needs to bite the bullet and play their card. And then we need to talk about who plays the next card, when number five comes around. Because there will be a fifth. Or a fourth, if you count Behemoth or not.”

  “Many of us are playing on a scale where a particular play would put us at a critical disadvantage,” the man with the cross on his face said. “Acting now, at the wrong time, it wouldn’t only hurt us, but it would put bigger things at risk. There’s doing wrongs for the greater good, and there’s doing noble deeds and dooming ourselves in the process.”

  “You’re hardly so noble, Saint,” Defiant said, his voice a growl.

  “I wasn’t speaking about me,” Saint retorted.

  “Either way, this is why you’re here,” Doctor Mother said. “To negotiate. With luck, you can barter to guarantee your safety in the future, or ask favors of others, in exchange for whatever it costs you to use whatever weapons or resources you’re holding back.”

  “We can barter,” Faultline said. Her voice was hard. “Unless you’re saying the people who’ve been creating and hoarding parahumans en masse don’t have any cards to play.”

  “Unfortunately, Faultline, we cannot. Cauldron, to be specific, cannot. I have provided this forum for discussion, we can help troubleshoot or support plans, or even provide assistance, but our cards must remain in place. There is nothing any of you could offer us that would be worth what it costs to act.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. I could feel anger stirring. “No way I believe that. Even just that portal system you’ve got, that’s enough to change the tide of this fight.”

  “Not an option,” Doctor Mother said.

  “Because you’re afraid,” Tattletale said. “There’s a fear that someone’s going to come after you, trace the portal back home. But there’s another, bigger fear, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” Marquis said, from among the group of twelve. “And I suspect I know what it is.”

  “Contessa here has informed me you do,” Doctor Mother said, cutting him off. She was gesturing towards the woman in the suit. “Let me assure you, it would do more harm than good to reveal the details. Especially here, especially now.”

  “Shit on me,” Tattletale said. “You bastards figured this out. How the hell did a bunch of prisoners in a jail that’s dangling inside a mountain get to figure it out before I did?”

  “Hands on experience,” Marquis answered.

  “Panacea,” Tattletale said.

  “Exactly,” Marquis said. “Clever girl. Well, I’m not looking to stir waves. I can’t disagree with the good doctor, so I’ll keep my mouth shut. Back to business.”

  “Damn it,” Tattletale said, under her breath. Louder, she said, “You’re sure that this doesn’t relate to our Endbringer situation?”

  “It doesn’t,” Doctor Mother said. “The Endbringers are a puzzle unto themselves, independent of every other major variable.”

  “That reeks of bullshit,” Tattletale said. “I want to think you’re bullshitting or you’re absolutely wrong and they’re connected to everything, but I’m getting the feeling it’s not. It’s bullshit because it’s true?”

  “I think we’re on the same page, Tattletale,” the Doctor said.

  “Can we progress this discussion?” one of the robed men asked.

  “We can,” the Doctor said. “Thank you for getting us back on track, Turanta of the Thanda. Let’s open the floor to discussion. Let’s start with the possibility that we might draw from the Birdcage.”

  “Freedom matters little to me,” the girl with the eerie voice said. “The true end draws nearer.“

  “The end of the world, you mean,” I said.

  “The end of all things, queen administrator,” she said.

  Queen administrator? What? “Isn’t that the same thing? The end of the world and the end of all things? Or do you mean the end of the universe?”

  “It doesn’t concern other celestial bodies. It doesn’t matter. This ends, one way or another. We and ours will carry on, in some form, whether it happens today or three hundred years from now.“

  “How reassuring,” Tattletale quipped. “You won’t help?”

  “I am safe where I am, whe
ther it beyond the Endbringer’s reach here or deep beneath the mountain. I will collect from among the dead, and I will keep them company until the faerie rise from the ruins.“

  Oh, I thought. She’s completely out of her mind.

  “There’s no way to barter for assistance from within the birdcage then?” Doctor Mother asked. “Nothing you want, Glaistig Uaine?”

  The girl, Glaistig Uaine, responded, “A hundred thousand corpses, each being one naturally gifted by the faerie.”

  “We don’t have time to laugh about like this,” Turanta, the apparent spokesman of the cold capes said.

  “I am not joking, astrologer. I would like to see their lights dancing in the air. I have seen only glimmers, fragments of the performance. To see it all at once… yes.“

  I heard someone in Faultline’s group swearing. Newter, I suspected.

  Honestly, I kind of agreed. I clenched my fists, biting back the worst of my anger. I managed to stay calm as I commented, “I’m getting a better idea of why things are as screwed up as they are. We’ve got all of the major players here, and half of you are willing to do nothing while the world burns.”

  “All of the major players who were willing to come to the table,” Doctor Mother said.

  Not any better, I thought, but I held my tongue. Doctor Mother had turned to the girl from the birdcage. “If you participated in the fight, I can promise there would be a number of dead parahumans there.”

  “I fear that would not be enough. It would need to be all together, for the greatest effect,” Glaistig Uaine said.

  “We could provide that many over a period of ten years, if required, but we’d want more assistance than simply this one fight,” Doctor Mother said. She stopped as the man with the glasses leaned close. A moment passed, “Or we could provide that many twenty-seven years from now.”