The room was empty. Nobody had spoken to Claire and the others once they'd been bundled up, hooded, and taken to the Rig.

Claire knew the drill. Nobody knew if they'd report everything they'd seen to the Simurgh, so they were hooded, with sound cancelers in their ears. Taylor had probably been a bit more difficult, but Claire could smell the hint of insecticides in the air.

Her hood had been removed, but the room itself had been pitch black until the hatch had closed. There was just a concrete bench in the room to sit on, and a little concrete basin with water falling continually out of a hole in the concrete, draining into another one. Conform turrets were tracking her, along with more lethal countermeasures.

And Claire was wearing a paper gown. No underwear, no shoes.

Because she was a tinker.

Thank you, PRT, Claire thought as she crossed her arms. None of the others were probably being forced to walk around in the next best thing to nothing. Also, any attempt to use any magic would result in her being foamed, stunned and killed, not necessarily in that order.

"Claire Nunez." The voice was inhuman, drained of any emotion. "Please talk about your last college course."

"Again?"

"Please talk about your last college course."

"Right, well it was…" Claire tried to adjust her gown again. Seriously, did they think she was going to turn a bra into a doomsday weapon?

This is Earth Bet. Somebody probably already has done that. Claire sighed and repeated the story.

"She and Victoria shared the same class," Colin told Director Piggot. "The divergence between their stories is well within acceptable limits for normal human memories. We've checked the other individuals as well, against both their friends and family members." He glanced at a screen, showing a thin, bespectacled man, listening to Taylor talk about the day her mother died.

She's not pleased. Ms. Hebert had become visibly angry after Colin had requested that she not do anything to moderate her emotions during the M/S screening. He wasn't certain if it was because she disliked being vulnerable or because she disliked that one of her "tricks" was known.

Well, known to Colin and a very few others. He didn't intend it to go any further. Orb Weaver was a very valuable influence on the bay, even if she tended to avoid directly targeting other capes. The BBPD and several private groups couldn't stop singing her praises.

Colin wasn't certain if they could protect her cape identity, however. PHO was melting down and the Simurgh had done something so that even Dragon couldn't take the clip down, even if it didn't show the most damming bits. Unsurprisingly, the image of Taylor sipping tea and chatting with the Simurgh like they were discussing the weather on the Boardwalk was trending.

"And Probability has a 99 percent chance that they have not been influenced by the Simurgh." Miss Militia gestured at another screen, this one showing an annoyed Glory Girl floating in the air.

"The same Endbringer who is a blind spot for precogs." Director Piggot shook her head. "On the other hand, Tagg is right, there comes a point where you either assume they're not omnipotent or you eat a bullet."

"Shards," Armsmaster said. "The implication that powers come from shards and they can be… removed."

"And named." Emily nodded. "Broadcast, Queen Shaper, Queen Administrator."

Miss Militia shook her head. "I never would have dreamed that the Simurgh could cause such chaos without ever leaving orbit but…"

But right. Colin shook his head. The Endbringers were created entities. Twenty-one Endbringers, the idea of powers as discrete entities that could be removed—and the idea as Endbringers as terraforming and societal control mechanisms?

But that makes sense. Think of Sphere. Think of any Tinker who wanted to make a large scale difference. He'd spent almost an hour thinking of it. Tinkers couldn't create mass production and those who tried to do big things ended up like Sphere, or like Dragon who mainly provided equipment to the PRT. But technology, in terms of widely available tech, was actually lagging compared to Earth Aleph, and Colin had a feeling that the Simurgh had just told them at least part of the reason why.

He wasn't the only one facing some unpleasant thoughts. When the conversation had turned to the possibility that the Endbringers were tinker created AI's that had developed sapience, Dragon had fallen silent and had contributed very little to the discussion.

"Let's not forget the most notable part of that conversation," Miss Militia said. "The Nine, they're coming here."

"And Jack Slash's 'Broadcast' shard somehow is the reason for his success." Director Piggot said. "What's interesting is the name. A power to cut people from far away, isn't what I'd normally associate with Broadcast."

"I…" Colin sighed. "Director, we're compiling reports on Jack Slash, but… We've found something disturbing."

"What is it?" Emily said.

"FBI profilers, psychologists and just about any legitimate non-parahuman analysis have suggested that Jack may have other, related powers, largely to explain how he controls the Nine. Parahuman analysts have dismissed such views, arguing that he's merely a very charismatic individual. Given the, ah… fraught relationship between various groups, this wasn't noted before, but now…" He shook his head. "And it gets worse. I ran a program regarding the Nine just before I arrived, and there's a subtle, but long running theme of Parahumans behaving… Differently, when facing Jack Slash. Nothing dramatic, not like them turning on each other, but say, listening to him. Even ones not known for talking to their enemies."

"Broadcast." Emily cursed. "Something people hear."

"Exactly." Colin shook his head. The Simurgh had just given them Jack Slash's secret weapon… or had she? "And given the difference in conclusions, I expect it works on parahumans or these… shards."

"There's something else," Miss Militia said. "Jim and Claire were very reluctant to talk about the "dead shards" and Victoria and Orb Weaver didn't know what they were."

"Their stress levels spiked. They know, or think they know, more than they're saying," Colin said.

"I can't let them keep quiet," Emily said. "Not when they're being screened for possible influence via the Simurgh. We have—"

The door opened and Merlin and Alexandria entered the room.

"Alexandria?" Colin blinked. "I wasn't aware you were in the area."

"I just finished a meeting, one that has…" Alexandria glanced at Merlin and did she look nervous? Alexandria never looked nervous.

Abruptly, Colin was nervous, because anything that could worry Alexandria…

"Come to a conclusion that I am not comfortable with, but I cannot deny." She looked at them. "What I am about to say, must remain utterly secret. I do not exaggerate when I say that the survival of all the worlds depends on it. The only reason I am speaking now is that Merlin and some other associates have convinced me that we cannot risk the danger of someone acting to hinder our operations out of ignorance. Merlin has worked a spell that will… scramble what is said here against any attempt to listen in, and he and my associates believe that it will suffice to protect us."

Director Piggot leaned back. "I doubt you can top the Simurgh arriving to chat with some of our wards."

"You would be surprised. You see, powers did not start with Vikare. Nor are they accidental and their source is not benevolent…"

As the story went on, Colin had to agree.

It did top the Simurgh.

And wasn't that just utterly terrifying.

Saint walked towards the control center. The others had tried to convince him to wait, but…

The Simurgh was a created AI. That was all he needed to know. Whatever help Dragon offered, it was too dangerous to exist.

He coded in his combination and opened the safe that Ascalon was in.

And he stared. The safe was empty. Nothing but a single piece of paper.

He took it out, hands shaking. But there was no way anyone but me could open the safe…

On the paper was a single note in elegant handwriting.

Thank you, Saint, but your services are no longer necessary. An associate has convinced me, however, that killing you would be an overly permanent solution, since you might be of use later.

The letter dissolved in his hands. Saint spun, shouting for the others to get ready—just as the lights went out, the entire base shutting down.

Dimly, he heard the first breaching charge as the PRT entered his supposedly secret base.

Saint didn't do anything. He'd been tasked with saving the world, and he'd failed.

There was nothing else to do.