Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “I can’t say I’ve found a good fit just yet, but if I had to pick one right now, I think I would use the code name Thoughtless.”

  “Kind of a weird choice for a telepath,” Alice pointed out.

  Mary nodded. “Oh yes, out of context it makes no sense at all. But the purpose of the names is as much about choosing a mantle for ourselves as it is picking a name to wear in front of the masses. And personally, I’d want to represent the aspect of my power that meant the most to me. Telepathy and telekinesis are both highly useful; however, for most of my life, the abilities I have were curses more than gifts, as you all understand. There’s nothing about this power I prize more highly than the ability to turn it off, to exist in a world without other people’s minds seeping into my own. So, for me, Thoughtless would be a reminder of where I came from, and what I went through, to make it this far.”

  “You sure you haven’t found your fit? That sounded like a good name to me,” Hershel said.

  “Well, as Alice indicated, it is a little strange without the context, and explaining it would get tedious after a while. We’ve still got plenty of time, so there’s no need to rush to a decision.”

  The dice in Mary’s hand dropped to her open palm, and she casually tossed them onto the game board. “Double fives,” she announced. “I hope everyone drew equipment cards, because it’s time to fight the ogre.”

  107.

  “They don’t know much,” Mr. Numbers said.

  “Enough to be dangerous, which is far more than I would prefer.” Dean Blaine sat a few chairs down, between Mr. Transport and Professor Fletcher. The latter was brought in more for his experience in his prior career than for his instructional input, as what lay before them was a matter that demanded serious consideration. If nothing else, the room’s fifth attendee spoke to the gravity of the situation.

  “I find it intriguing that despite knowing the Sons of Progress are interested in these Powereds, your company is still holding firm on its refusal to divulge any information about the process.” Ralph Chapman certainly didn’t look amused. He was too focused on spreading out the files and pages set before him, reveling in the fact that they were finally using a proper meeting room instead of the renovated broom closets he’d had to deal with.

  “More of a ‘can’t’ than a ‘won’t’ situation,” Professor Fletcher told him. “Our company was contracted by the scientists for the acquiring of equipment, selecting candidates, locating and mind-wiping medical staff; essentially, our people handled all the practical needs. However, none of the working grunts were ever brought in on how the procedure worked. The man at the top might have been, but he’d likely have signed more nondisclosures than even the DVA uses, given the potential income that procedure has the ability to generate. Most Powereds would pay almost anything to become Supers, which means whoever found a way to make it happen would be crazy not to try and protect their method.”

  Ralph rustled some more papers—a clear bid to buy time. “That’s what your bosses keep saying in response to inquiries from our department: no information to provide, and even if there was, they’d be unable to give it up unless the DVA presented formal legal cause. And you all know damned well that the minute we do, this procedure’s existence becomes a matter of public record.”

  “That assumes you could even get the necessary warrants and court orders together, which is unlikely, given your lack of evidence of wrongdoing on our part,” Mr. Numbers said. “Senator Malcolm might have been able to manage the task—he certainly had enough sway and favors to call in—but with him gone and no clear leader emerging from those jockeying for his position, it would be a difficult task to accomplish.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you just imply that we have no evidence of wrongdoing? Because, as I see it, snatching someone off the street without a DVA sanction and threatening them with torture sure seems like great cause to haul you before a committee.” Ralph’s fidgeting stopped; he’d clearly been waiting to bring this up since the meeting began.

  It was Mr. Transport who replied, placing a hand on Mr. Numbers’ shoulder before the shorter man could speak. “Threats are just that, Mr. Chapman: threats. Maybe if there was physical damage you’d have a case, but as it stands, I think everything we did easily falls into our role as the Melbrook students’ bodyguards. If you really want to push the issue, then feel free to drag me up there. I was the one who insisted we react swiftly and forcefully, both because of the information-gathering opportunity I was presented with and because that sack of shit was stalking someone I care about. Haul me in, if you like. Let’s see whether the people who often look to us for protection of their own loved ones think I was too rash. Even if they do, I’m nothing but a small fry. It won’t get you any information about the Powereds’ procedure, and it won’t bring us any closer to catching Crispin and his bastard followers.”

  “Mr. Transport has cut to the meat of the issue,” Dean Blaine said. “We can have our respective pissing contests on our own time. What matters most is that we now know the Sons of Progress are aware of the possibility that Powereds can become Supers. Assuming this Randolph fellow was telling the truth—”

  “He was,” Mr. Numbers interjected.

  “As you’ve reported, yes. Anyway, from his testimony it seems like they’re digging for proof right now, snatching for a loose thread to pull on. While I don’t disagree with your actions, Mr. Transport, I must also point out that you effectively told them they were on to something the moment you took their piece from the board. Maybe they don’t know exactly what, but Sally Daniels is now essentially confirmed to be connected to powerful people.”

  “We’re already putting a protective detail on her,” Professor Fletcher said. “And that’s on top of the neighborhood Supers she lives near. No one is getting close to that woman, I promise.”

  Dean Blaine shifted slightly, re-angling his chair so that he could meet the eyes of everyone in the room. “Glad as I am to hear that, it barely scratches the real issue. If the Sons of Progress gain confirmation that there is a way to turn Powereds into Supers—and strategically we have to assume they will—then we must be ready to counter them. No doubt they’ll try to uncover the secret for themselves, using it as a recruiting tool to bolster their weakened ranks. That would be a hellish outcome, as we’ve got no shortage of Powereds with axes to grind against the world, but even just them knowing the procedure exists could cause problems. We all believe that taking ample time to study the test group was the right, safe course of action. But I’m not sure the public will agree, especially all the Powereds out there desperate for a cure. If the Sons of Progress find a way to make the procedure public, to frame it as the DVA and the HCP hoarding such a breakthrough for their own purposes, it could seriously impact the public’s trust in us. We need to be ready with a rebuttal, if not a plan to get ahead of them.”

  “Blaine… are you proposing we preemptively go public?” It wasn’t often that Ralph Chapman allowed himself to show surprise, but in that moment his mouth was hanging open like someone had grabbed his jaw and yanked it downward. “You know as well as I do what a madhouse that’s going to make things. For us, for the HCP, and especially for your students.”

  “I’m not saying it’s the best plan out there; just pointing out that we might need to be ready to make that call, if the situation demands it,” Dean Blaine replied. “It was always going to come out eventually, though it would have been nicer to make the announcement when we had full-fledged Heroes to point to as shining examples of what the procedure could gain society. Maybe letting the public in on the secret now is a mistake; maybe it’s something we can work through. I just want everyone to be prepared so that when Crispin’s people make a move, we can do whatever is necessary to counter it. Can you run that up the pole in Washington?”

  Quickly gathering his files, Ralph tucked them into his briefcase and snapped it shut. “I’m obligated to, even if I don’t agree with the necessity of it. Just be ready for a lot of p
ushback. Most of Washington will share my caution.”

  “Never in my life have I even once expected the government to act with speed or courage,” Dean Blaine assured him. “This is mostly an attempt to get them ready for the hard choices that might be coming down the line. If they have warning, they may decide what sacrifices they are willing to make. Professor Fletcher, I’d also like you to speak with the company’s higher-ups. While I understand the need for secrecy, if you could impress upon Mr. Lamont the importance of the situation, perhaps there are some details, even seemingly trivial ones, he’d be willing to share with us.”

  “I can try, but don’t expect much,” Professor Fletcher said.

  “I’m well-acquainted with his tight-lipped reputation.” Dean Blaine turned to Mr. Numbers and Mr. Transport, who were waiting patiently for their own assignment. “As for you two, Ralph isn’t entirely wrong about you overstepping, good intentions or not. I think I’m going to move up my class about your company, with you both making a special appearance as my guests. It will be a good refresher on exactly what you do, and what limits you are meant to play by.”

  “So you’d prefer we hadn’t grabbed the man stalking Roy and Hershel’s mother?” Mr. Numbers asked.

  “Oh, heavens no. I just wish you’d gone through the proper channels to do it,” Dean Blaine said. “Because then I could have been there, and right now there’s nothing I’d love more than to squeeze information from one of Crispin’s lackeys. It would be a nice placeholder to tide me over until I can get my hands on the man himself.”

  108.

  What they had was thin, thankfully. A few reports from students scared halfway out of their minds after the fact. Some grainy pictures taken on cell phone cameras. Rumors, speculation, and hearsay, all the way through. All the same, Will couldn’t afford to take this lightly. Or, more precisely, the HCP students couldn’t afford for him to take it lightly.

  He sat in his room, headphones on, and reviewed the audio from Kennedy’s meeting for at least the sixth time. There were sections he knew by heart after so many listens, yet he still felt the need to sift through the discussion once more. There wouldn’t be anything from Kennedy—she was too aware of her words—but he hoped one of the others might show a vulnerability that Will had somehow missed.

  No matter how much he wished for it, no incriminating audio suddenly revealed itself on the sixth playback. That would be the easiest way to handle Kennedy and her crew; if he could only get them planning to do something that skirted the law, or even campus rules, he’d be able to take them down without exposing himself. Framing one of the others as a Super sympathizer who blew the whistle would be no trouble at all, but he needed that criminal starting point to work from. A starting point that didn’t exist.

  Kennedy’s plan, much as Will might loathe admitting it, was a careful one. There was nothing inherently illegal about trying to figure out who the HCP students were. Sometimes, groups would form to try and suss it out as an activity. But they were always trying to sift through tens of thousands of students with nothing to go on, which made it a fruitless endeavor. Kennedy had leads. Small ones, yes, but leads all the same. Will didn’t like that, wasn’t comfortable with that, and he certainly didn’t want her getting any more footing than she already had.

  Time, at least, was on his side. As much as the Take Back Lander group might want to hunt down the people who’d been saved by HCP students to press them for more details, it was an almost impossible task with the semester’s end looming on the horizon. Even Kennedy knew that, as Will listened to her recorded voice say that they should use the rest of December to choose who they would try and talk to first. She wanted them to create a game plan for January, which gave Will time to lay the groundwork for stopping them.

  It was a good thing he had some breathing room, because dealing with that group would require a delicate touch. He couldn’t do anything to scare them off—that would only lend credence to their cause. Simply letting them run out of steam had proven to be a bust, as they’d merely changed tactics rather than accept defeat. The student body’s apathy to their cause wasn’t lost on Kennedy and her flunkies; it was taken in stride. She seemed to truly believe she was working for the betterment of Lander, which made it all the more difficult to knock her from her path.

  Public opinion seemed like the best weapon to wield against her. It was the sort of thing that could be manipulated from a distance and hard to trace back to its source. Kennedy might be able to shrug off apathy, but if Will played his hand carefully, he might be able to get her group actively hated, and that would prove a far more difficult sentiment to ignore. The route was obvious; she was already planning to pester survivors of a horrible tragedy for details about the people that had saved them, only to use that information to publicly out the would-be Heroes. A few audio files, some good pictures, and the whole thing could blow up spectacularly in their faces as Take Back Lander became painted as heartless monsters with a pointless grudge.

  The trouble was, Kennedy had proven herself aware and intelligent; there was no way she didn’t see the potential backlash in her plan. Will had to assume she had a counterstrategy in place. The whole plan might even be a trap, dangling the groups’ apparent downfall as a morsel to make any traitors to the cause show themselves. It was assuming a lot on her part, but Will refused to be caught off guard by underestimating his opponent.

  Even if it was a trap, it wasn’t one Will could afford to ignore. The chance to end this whole movement in a single fell swoop wouldn’t come along every day. And should Kennedy turn out to have a counterstrategy, that could be countered as well. Will just needed to see enough steps ahead on the game board. From an analytical side, that was no issue. The trouble was that he’d never been as gifted at the social aspects of Subtlety as some of the others. This territory relied heavily on manipulation and anticipating people’s reactions, and while Will had learned a lot from Professor Pendleton, he wasn’t quite so confident that he was willing to bet everything on those skills.

  Fortunately, he’d learned more in the HCP than merely how to fight. Will had been forced to absorb a lesson that he would never have accepted in his younger days: there was no shame in a Hero asking for help. No one could do it all. Every Super, every person, had their own strengths and weaknesses. What mattered was getting the job done—keeping people safe, above all else. Nothing, especially not pride or ego, came before that.

  As the recording came to an end, Will pulled off his headphones and set them to the side. He needed help, more than Camille could offer. It would have to be someone he trusted, of course, someone who could fill in the gaps where his own skills fell short. Mary was the obvious choice; a telepath could get him all the answers he needed with little risk of exposure. The problem was that her power cut both ways; Mary wouldn’t do recon and sit on the sidelines. She’d insist on being involved. That would give her lots of time to listen to Will’s thoughts, and if he ultimately had to use a solution that was morally questionable, Mary might very well object. Worse, with her level of power, those objections would be impossible to ignore, as she could put a stop to any plan she didn’t agree with.

  Alex had telepathy as well, but he couldn’t get thoughts in the same level of detail as Mary, and details might be very important for this task. Nick had demonstrated an exceptional knack for this sort of work; however, bringing in someone from outside the HCP had risks of its own. Alice, who consistently did well on the social aspects of Subtlety, seemed like an easy choice until one factored in her close relationship with Mary. Bringing her on board was akin to taking Mary too, and then he was right back where he started if she disagreed.

  Will turned off the machine, knowing that before the week’s end he’d listen to the recording at least once more. It was a problem, one that required attention, but it wasn’t his only issue to deal with. There was also the trivial matter of finishing up his Lander classes with scores that were solid without being attention-grabbing. After that
, he needed to continue tinkering with his staff, along with a few other toys, for December’s trial. It hadn’t escaped Will’s notice that the tests at the end of each semester were almost always extra difficult, and he didn’t expect this year to be an exception.

  109.

  Roy’s eyes wanted to dart up to the small window obscured by tempered glass, where he knew Professor Fletcher was keeping watch over them, but he resisted the urge. The wrong glance might betray that they were being observed, which would add pressure on Ashley, and there was already more than enough of that for now. Eventually, she’d have to get used to fighting with people observing, to say nothing of all the other distractions and stresses that went along with combat, but that came in the later years. Today, all she needed was to throw the right amount of power into her strikes.

  Adjusting his white uniform to make sure it moved freely, Roy carefully took a defensive stance, and then gave Ashley the nod that he was ready. She raised her fists, the right one flickering for a moment as she gathered power. They’d spent weeks working on her control until she could make a hole in concrete that was any size she liked, but this would be the first time they rolled out her power in actual combat. With both classes facing their end-of-semester tests so soon, she wasn’t going to get a lot of real practice time, but Roy knew that wouldn’t matter as much for her exam. After all, the freshmen were dropped into that underground labyrinth with color-coded stun guns; she didn’t need to explode to score some wins. This was about laying the groundwork for what came next, for the rest of the year she’d have to spend battling uphill if she wanted to wear a sophomore uniform.

  “I’m going to use bone-breaking attacks, for now.” Ashley’s eyes didn’t waver from him as she made the announcement, nor did Roy take his off her as he signaled that she’d been heard. Generally, announcing any information before a fight was folly; however, in this case, it would allow Roy to know if she was hitting the mark in terms of power. They’d tested her bone-breaking explosions already—in the presence of a healer, just to be safe—and while the things certainly stung, they weren’t enough to do any serious harm to Roy. This battle wasn’t about knocking him out; Ashley would be the winner if she managed to keep her power within whatever parameters she set.