by Nic Stone
K’Marah, who really wasn’t looking too hot, especially after the adrenaline subsided, is out like a pinched candlewick the moment she pulls the Vibranium blanket up over her shoulders and proclaims, “This blanket is the best.” (Shuri knows it’s going to disappear as soon as they arrive home.)
But try as Shuri might—even with her own delightful blanket—she is unable to sleep. And it’s not even what she knows or has recently experienced that keeps her eyes wide and mind reeling. It’s what she doesn’t know: how the dry-skinned man has been keeping tabs on them.
With a huff, she climbs down from her bunk and goes to the Predator’s control panel, powering up both the electrical and navigation systems. While she knows that her Wakandan cohorts here in London surely have the technology to detect a flying object—including a soundless, invisible one with its radar turned off—she must figure out how kufi-man detected them on their way out of Wakanda.
Shuri programmed the detection alert mechanism to go off when one of two things happens: either something interacts with the Predator’s GPS signal, or it’s physically spotted in flight—the latter of which is determined by tiny cameras all over the mirroring panels that track the focus of the eye, and can therefore “tell” when the vessel has been spotted.
Based on the security images, Shuri knows the latter set off the alarm just after they crossed the border.
But she’s also fairly certain the man said he couldn’t see the aircraft. (“Not exactly, no.”) Is there a reason for him to have lied?
After running an overall avionics scan for glitches or bugs (there are none), Shuri scrolls through the signal log to trace all of the Predator’s digital interactions—with satellites, ground computers, etc. When nothing strange turns up there either, the princess runs an electronic scan of the cabin to see if there’s a trackable signal lurking somewhere else on the aircraft.
A yellow dot lights up on the screen, and Shuri gasps.
There is a rogue signal.
And it’s coming from K’Marah’s bunk.
With the assistance of her Kimoyo bracelet and a few taps, the princess is able to reverse engineer the signal-acquiring mechanism in her Kimoyo card, turning it into a tracker-tracker that will pick up on any item that has been traced remotely. Then slowly, quietly, Shuri approaches her sleeping friend, waving the card over her blanketed body like a metal detector.
K’Marah is sleeping on her back with an arm draped across her face. And as soon as Shuri nears her head, the Kimoyo card lights up like a fiery flare.
She moves it closer to the pillow, and it dims. So she brings it back up over K’Marah’s cheek. Signal’s a bit stronger. Over her mouth, nose, eyes, onto her arm … brighter and brighter still until she gets to her wrist.
Which is when the card quietly pings and turns green.
K’Marah’s fancy bracelet.
Odd.
Shuri carefully unclasps it from her friend’s arm and carries it to the front of the Predator for examination.
Once there, she holds it up and shines her Kimoyo card flashlight over it. It certainly doesn’t look out of the ordinary—for K’Marah the Glam, at least. The smoky-colored glass beads are cracked on the inside, which Shuri must admit creates a cool, sparkly-but-not-obnoxious effect. Though where someone would hide a tracking device …
She extinguishes the flashlight and sets the Kimoyo card aside. Then lays the bracelet across her palm.
The wave of lethargy that instantly crashes down over her is so intense, Shuri’s knees buckle and she has to use the back of her captain’s chair to keep from falling.
She forces herself back fully upright, gaze fixed on the unassuming piece of jewelry. Then, mustering strength she didn’t realize she’d need, she uses the opposite hand to lift the bracelet so she’s holding it in the air by the clasp like before.
Her sense of vitality returns. In fact, for the breadth of a few seconds, Shuri could swear she feels every cell of her body surge with life.
She raises her forearm to eye level and carefully lays the bracelet over her wrist.
Boom. Exhausted. And a bit nauseated this time, too.
She picks it up …
And she’s back to full force, even more awake and alert and alive than before.
Is this why K’Marah has been so tired and queasy?
“Wow!” She hears from behind her. “What time is it? Are we about to depart? Where is Queen Goddess Ororo-Storm?”
Shuri quickly stashes the bracelet behind her back as she whips around to face her friend. Her friend … who looks better. K’Marah’s chin is high and her eyes are bright and her skin is glowing.
For a moment, Shuri can only stand and blink and stare.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” K’Marah says with a stretch. “Bast, I needed that rest. This is the most refreshed I’ve felt since we left home.”
And that’s all Shuri needs to hear.
“K’Marah,” she says, going to sit beside the girl she realizes truly is her best friend. She holds the bracelet up, and K’Marah’s eyebrows rise with it. “I think it’s time we talk.”
MISSION LOG
KEEPING THIS ONE SHORT BECAUSE WE NEED TO DEPART, BUT I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH K’MARAH THAT WAS QUITE … REVELATORY. IT WENT SOMETHING LIKE THIS:
Me: Old friend, I’m not sure where you got this bracelet, but it’s both being used to track us and make you sick.
Her (staring at it, first in disbelief, and then … something else): Oh.
Me: Do you remember where you got it?
Her: (*silence* *avoidance* *refusal to meet my eyes*)
Me: K’Marah …
Her (sighing): You won’t judge?
Me: Judge what?
Her: If you say “I told you so,” I will never speak to you again.
Me: K’Marah, what are you talking ab—
Her: Henny gave it to me.
Me: (*silence* *avoidance* *refusal to meet her eyes*)
Her: (see line above)
Me: I thought you said you’ve never met him in person?
Her (sighing again): I haven’t. I … well, I told him I was going on a trip—
Me: K’MARAH!
Her: I know, I know. For what it’s worth, I didn’t mention you. But the package arrived by courier an hour later.
Me: So … he knows where you live, then?
Her: (*silence* *avoidance* *refusal to meet my eyes*) He must’ve … tracked my IP address.
Despite how quickly my mental cup ranneth over with questions—Did you tell him of your training and career path? Our friendship? Your position as the Mining heiress? Was his goal to track you … or me?—I said no more in the moment.
Because in spite of the questions, other pieces were clicking together in my mind. Like the existence of a (highly probable) relationship between this boy K’Marah thought was a friend, and the grown man who has been using the bracelet the boy gave K’Marah to follow us across two continents.
Though he can follow us no more—Hunter and crew delivered him to a maximum-security cell deep underground in the same building where Dr. Selvig’s bizarre laboratory is located—I have the distinct suspicion that man was not out for the good of Wakanda.
Which would mean this boy K’Marah was communicating with likely does not have our nation’s best interests at heart, either.
I managed to locate the bracelet’s tracking mechanism and succeeded in reversing it. Now the next time someone attempts to pinpoint K’Marah’s (our?) location, we will be alerted to their precise whereabouts.
I also succeeded in heating the bracelet beads to a pre-melt point that permitted me to collect a tiny bit of not only the coating but the glass itself. It is presently undergoing molecular analysis, and as soon as we are back in Wakanda, the result will upload to my database of chemical compounds for cross-referencing.
Ororo has just returned, so after I debrief her, we’ll be on our way. I have no idea what awaits us back in our homeland
and can only assume that T’Challa and Mother’s silence is a result of all-consuming Challenge Day preparations.
At least that is my hope.
Any other reason no one seems to have noticed I’m gone … Well. I’d rather not think about it.
One bright spot on Shuri’s horizon: The polyelastane fibers accept a full-strength Vibranium infusion without disintegrating. The turnaround time will be tight, but provided they cross the Wakandan border by zero eight hundred hours and the fabric is waiting outside the entrance to her lab as she requested when she contacted the clothier, she should be able to get it infused and delivered to the clothier in time for him to work his sewing sorcery and have a habit prototype ready just before the Challenge.
Whether or not big bro will consent to wearing it for his ritual showdown is another question, but at least the princess has something semi-manageable to ponder over as they make their way back to Wakanda. Everything else might be crumbling, but T’Challa will soon have a moisture-wicking, kinetic energy–absorbing—and storing … and expelling—super-ultra-STRETCHY Panther Habit just like he asked for.
(She tries not to think about the fact that the perfect suit for T’Challa won’t matter if he’s bested.)
They part ways with Ororo three hundred kilometers north of Wakanda, shortly after Shuri begins their initial descent, and she exits the Predator with a look of fierce pride. But the closer they get to home, the more anxious the princess feels.
There are just so many unknowns. And the more she attempts to connect the dots, the less they seem connected at all. Ororo suggested Shuri inform T’Challa of the bits she does know, but the princess can’t bring herself to do that because what exactly would she tell him? “I got attacked by a man desperately in need of shea butter—who may be linked to a cracked-skinned woman I saw crushing Wakanda in a vision—after he tracked us using a bracelet that was delivered to K’Marah under the guise of being from a boy she met online who is supposedly a Jabari. OH, and I still haven’t solved the herb problem, so they’ll all be dead soon and you’ll just have to stay Black Panther forever so PLEASE DON’T LOSE THE CHALLENGE! Here’s a new suit, by the way!”
It all sounds like nonsense.
And Shuri? Well, she feels like a failure.
Fifty kilometers north of the border, Shuri decreases the Predator’s speed and cranks up the rate of descent so that the girls can enter through the forest just like they exited: invisible, untraceable by radar, and utilizing Kimoyo tech to prevent signaling a border breach alarm.
And because she can’t resist a peek at the area where they saw that encampment and were first “spotted” by their kufi-capped London assailant, Shuri makes a last-second decision to fly that way.
It’s a decision she comes to appreciate … and regret.
“Uhhhh, Shuri?” K’Marah says from beside her.
“Yup.”
“Not good …”
“Mm-hmm.”
Because the girls can see that the small encampment a couple of kilometers beyond the Wakandan border with Niganda has grown. It’s no longer a gathering of a handful of men with tents and campfires.
Now arrayed beneath them in perfectly formed lines is a certifiable army.
Shuri corrects course, heading northeast so they can cross the border a bit away from the impending invaders. As they cruise along the edge of the forest, Shuri taking full control of the vessel so she can turn at precisely the right angle for entry at a different point, K’Marah, who is standing with her forehead pressed against the front window, suddenly cries out: “Shuri! The forest!”
The princess peeks right and gasps. “Bast be with us …”
“Whoa!” K’Marah loses her footing as the Predator begins to tilt. “I know it’s bad down there, Princess, but don’t forget to drive!”
“Oh.” Shuri rights the aircraft and tries to keep her breath steady as she faces back forward. But what she just saw is seared into her memory: a swath of dead trees like the ones she saw on the way out, and all around them, nonfunctional mechanized ones, the leaves of which are spotted that sickly yellow.
“It’s spreading, Shuri!” K’Marah says, returning to her window post. “I can see it! More of the trees are dying!”
“Hold on tight! I’m turning around!”
Though it’s risky flying over the greenery—and Shuri knows it will trigger the alarms in the capital—she also knows that a bird’s-eye view will allow for the best scan of the trees so she can gather accurate information about how quickly they’re being killed/disabled, and in which direction.
“K’Marah?”
The other girl turns.
“If we don’t make it out of this alive, thank you for being my friend.”
K’Marah rolls her eyes. “Save the drama for your mama, Princess.”
It puts a temporary smile on Shuri’s face as she accelerates just the slightest bit to push the Predator across the tree line and begin the terrain scan.
For a solid two seconds, Shuri thinks they’re in the clear. But then the now too familiar alert rings out: “Warning: This vessel has been detected.”
“Drat,” from K’Marah.
“I can think of worse things to say,” Shuri counters. “Let’s just hope no one starts shooting or tries to overtake our navigation.” She thinks of their friends in London. “Again.”
The results of the scan pop up. “The security forest is deactivating by combination of organic death and mechanical failure at a rate of zero-point-three meters per second in the direction of the baobab plain. One thousand and sixty-two meters have already succumbed, and whatever is causing this shutdown appears to be creating a path approximately eight meters wide. As there are ten kilometers of forest between the border and the edge of the field, a way straight into Wakanda will be cleared in …” She taps around on the screen. “Eight hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-three-ish seconds.”
“Uhhh,” is all K’Marah can say.
Not that it matters: Shuri is now clicking and swiping and tapping around on her Kimoyo card. “The Challenge is set to begin in”—tap-click-swipe—“eight hours, twenty minutes, and twenty-seven seconds.” She shakes her head. “I really hate to admit it, but this was an exquisitely executed invasion plan.”
K’Marah snorts.
“Hey, S.H.U.R.I.! Call T’Challa!” Shuri shouts into the air.
“Calling T’Challa,” replies the same mechanically pleasant voice who just told them their very detected goose is cooked.
“Are you serious?” K’Marah says, flopping down in her seat.
“What? I have to tell him abou—”
“You named your AI after you? This is worse than the laboratory greeting!”
“It’s an acronym! Stands for Super Heroics Universal Remote Interface …”
“Sure, it is—”
A hologram of T’Challa pops up in the center of the control panel. He’s shirtless. “Shuri!” he says, clearly out of breath.
“T’Challa! There—”
“Well, hello, Your Majesty!” K’Marah says, looking at the hologram a bit more intently than Shuri is expressly comfortable with.
“Oh! Hello, future Dora! I am glad you two are safe—”
“T’Challa, where are you? We must speak to you at once!”
The hologram ducks, bobs, and throws a punch.
“Ooh!” K’Marah says, eyebrows lifting in delight.
The princess gags.
“Shuri, I can’t—”
“PLEASE, T’Challa! It is urgent!”
“Stop, stop,” he says to someone they can’t see. Then he looks right at Shuri. “I’m at the Den. And as you’ve interrupted my training on this day, it better be.”
When they step into the Den, the large, multistory facility where every warrior in Wakanda—from the border guards to the Dora Milaje—begins their respective training, Shuri gets smacked with a wave of nostalgia.
“Sheesh, I forgot how much it stinks in here,” K’Marah sa
ys, getting hit with a different wave.
On the main level, where the youngest and newest trainees spend most of their time, there’s a boxing ring for sparring, a sand pit for rod work, and a spring floor for acrobatics.
All three flood her with memories of Baba, and the days she was permitted to spend time here. “I miss this place,” she says. I miss him.
But once they ascend to the third floor—the Special Forces wing—and Shuri sees her brother (with a shirt on now, thank Bast), she’s back to business.
“T’Challa, there is an invasion mounting! At the Nigandan bord—”
“I know.” And he takes a shockingly nonchalant drink of water.
“You know?”
“Of course I do.” He walks past her and K’Marah to a table lined with various deadly weapons. Shuri sees three swords, one long and slightly curved, and two short; a variety of differently weighted spears (Shuri remembers him teaching her about the importance of weight); a set of nunchaku; an ax. He picks up a pair of daggers and turns back to face them, raising his arms. “I am the king.”
K’Marah looks on the verge of fainting.
(How vile, Shuri thinks.)
“They are somehow creating a path in by neutralizing the security forest—”
“I am aware.”
“—and they’ll be able to break through, right at the field, five minutes before the Challenge begins!”
T’Challa sighs. He comes over and puts his hands on Shuri’s shoulders and looks her right in the eye. “Shuri,” he says. (Shuri tries to keep her breathing even despite the daggers sticking up on each side of her head, but she’ll admit that it’s difficult.) “Listen to yourself,” he goes on. “You have interrupted the king of this nation, on the day that others will be permitted to challenge him for the throne and Panther mantle, because you think him unaware of the threat of invasion? At his own borders?”
Shuri gulps. “I—”