A/N: Thanks to Kathy and Debbie for the beta!

A/N: Air Traffic lingo adapted from an answer by commercial pilot Tim Morgan on Quora. EMP shielding ideas taken from the Survivalist blog. Any errors are mine and mine alone.

Chapter 15

Barbara Gordon loved a good challenge. She'd started hacking in her teens, not to try to change her grade or hold files for ransom, but just to see if she could. That had been when her parents were still alive, when the man she now called 'Dad' had been 'Uncle Jim'. Once she'd come to live with him, she'd given it up. She knew that her uncle had his enemies in the department and on the municipal council. The thought of what it could mean for him if she were caught had been enough to dissuade her.

Oddly enough, she hadn't had those fears when she'd decided to become Batgirl. She hadn't planned on it. The costume had been something to wear to a costume ball. If Killer Moth hadn't shown up to kidnap Bruce Wayne, that was all it ever would have been. But he had shown up, the police hadn't been around, and Barbara—with her black belts in judo and karate, to say nothing of her general athletic prowess—had risen to the occasion. Then she'd discovered that she enjoyed being out there, making a difference, and putting a dent in local crime. It was an avenue she had thought closed to her when she'd discovered she was under the minimum height requirement for the police academy. Uncle Jim—Dad, now—had been relieved. So relieved, in fact, that she knew she couldn't let him know what she intended to do; he'd be up nights worrying over her, and he had enough stress in his life.

But when Batman had finally accepted that she would be sharing the night with him and decided to assess and augment her existing skills, he'd shown more than a passing interest in her computer prowess. Soon, he was teaching her tricks that she hadn't learned in class. Soon, she was teaching him tricks she'd figured out on her own.

A couple of years later, she'd hung up her cape, uncertain whether she meant to retire Batgirl permanently or just take a leave of absence. Joker and his pistol had forced her decision. Batgirl might have retired, but Oracle had arrived. And she'd introduced herself to the 'caped community' by hacking into Task Force X's systems and providing unsolicited—but solid—assistance. Amanda Waller could, conceivably, have shut her down. Instead, she'd hired her. In her work for Task Force X, she'd broken into systems belonging to government, law enforcement, corporations, and criminal enterprises. She had an innate talent for computer hacking, but that had only given her a base on which to build. Her expertise was hard-earned, as was her reputation.

Discretion and circumspection were her watchwords. Still, every now and again, she enjoyed an opportunity to show off. Anonymously, of course.

Right now was one of those times. She had a list of organizations to break into and she was steadily working her way through it. At the same time, she was doing a bit of unauthorized research into the party who had given her this challenge and smiling at what she was turning up.

Several lines of code scrolled up her screen and she frowned. That wasn't good. No time to send a message; by the time she had the channel open, it might be too late. A moment later, her smile was back. She could deal with this herself. And if she played her cards right, nobody would ever be the wiser…

Daredevil wasn't sure whether he felt or heard the faint rippling vibration outside the aircraft. He was, however, able to pinpoint the precise moment that Batman's sweat took on an adrenaline tang. It was followed a second later by a steep change in altitude and a hard swerve that slammed him back into his seat and pressed him against the side of the cockpit. "Stay braced," Batman cautioned.

Daredevil nodded, judging that explanations could wait.

"Huh," Batman muttered, as they leveled off. Daredevil was about to ask what had just happened, when a roar from outside the craft nearly deafened him. The temperature of the metal hull rose slightly, not enough to be painful, but enough for him to take notice. "Hang on," Batman said calmly. The jet was rising again. This time, the turn felt a good deal smoother.

"That wasn't turbulence," Daredevil said when the jet leveled off again.

"No," Batman said shortly. Then he took a breath. "We were fired upon."

Daredevil nodded unsurprised. "Good thing they missed."

"That's the thing," Batman said slowly. "They shouldn't have."

Under his cowl, Daredevil felt one eyebrow quirk upward. "You really enjoy complaining, don't you?" he asked.

"No," Batman replied. "That was an L5-382B missile; I recognized the design. It's got a cloak that makes it virtually undetectable to all electronic surveillance equipment. By the time it's in visual range of its target, it's too late for evasive action. It would appear that the cloak malfunctioned after deployment. I caught its approach with about five seconds to spare."

"And that bothers you."

Batman was silent for a moment. "Let's just say," he replied finally, "that I find it somewhat convenient for that particular system to fail so close to its target. It's too big a coincidence for it to be a coincidence."

"I hear that," Daredevil nodded. "Got any theories?"

Batman's breath was an annoyed snarl, as he exhaled. "Nothing I'll share at the moment." He paused. "At least we can be reasonably sure we've pinpointed their base. I'll find a place to land. I presume you're in shape for a cross-country hike?"

"How far?"

Batman considered. "The base is about fifteen miles from Schenectady airport. We're something like a hundred miles away now; we had to get out of range of H.I.V.E.'s scans, and I didn't want to interfere with local air traffic if it could be avoided. Since that's no longer feasible, I'll turn us around momentarily and radio Schenectady to arrange to land there. The Titans routinely carry motorcycles in their cargo hold, each capable of carrying two riders. I made sure that this craft was so equipped before we took off." He paused. "A 'cycle will get us part of the way back to the base, but it's a safe bet they'll have spotters watching the roads. At some point, we'll need to go off-road and continue on foot. Five miles?"

Daredevil nodded. "I can swing that. Um," he added with some embarrassment, "if we're trying to avoid notice, I should point out that I might not be the greatest at hiding our trail."

"I figured," Batman nodded back. "I'll handle that part."

Daredevil sat back as Batman fiddled with one of the controls on his dashboard. "Schenectady approach," he announced smoothly into his radio mouthpiece. "Titans Jet, level fifteen thousand."

There was a moment's silence. Then, a nervous voice replied at a rush, "Schenectady approach, didyousayTitans?"

If Batman was annoyed, it didn't show. "Affirmative," he said calmly, as though he was talking down a jumper on a ledge. "Schenectady approach, over."

"Uh… right," the voice replied. "Uh… I mean… Sorry! Sorry, Titans Jet. Uh…" The voice took a deep breath and continued smoothly, "Titans Jet, Schenectady approach, turn right, heading one six zero, descend and maintain nine thousand."

Batman made the adjustments swiftly. "Right to one six zero, down to nine thousand, Titans Jet," he confirmed.

Daredevil could swear he heard a smile in the other man's voice.

In the H.I.V.E. command center, the young drone at the targeting console started in disbelief. "They evaded it?" she exclaimed. She looked at her commanding officer. "How is that even possible?"

The officer leaned over her shoulder. "Batman has always been at the cutting edge of technology. I don't know how he does it, but he's usually got the latest toys before the military gets its mitts on them." He sighed. "Guess we've just gotten notice that the rest of those missiles are pretty much past their shelf life." He made a disgusted sound. "H.I.V.E. Mistress is going to love that."

"At least we scared them off," the drone replied.

"I doubt it," The officer scoffed. "Batman doesn't scare and he doesn't give up. He'll be back. I'll inform H.I.V.E. Mistress that we'd best start preparing a welcoming committee for when he does.

"There is a crowd on the runway," Batman proclaimed in the same tone he might have used to announce a mud stain on his tuxedo.

"I take it this kind of thing doesn't happen to you in Gotham," Daredevil replied, hiding a smile.

"Not if it can be avoided."

"Be charitable," Daredevil suggested. "I'd imagine they don't get a lot of costumes in this part of the state."

"I save my philanthropy for civilian life," Batman snapped. "You deal with them," he said, as he made his way to the door at the back of the cockpit that led into the passenger cabin, "while I get the cycle out of cargo."

Daredevil grinned. "You got it." He fumbled with his seatbelt. As he opened the door and emerged, he heard a number of people gasp in surprise.

"Hey!" someone said in a disappointed tone, "I thought we were going to meet the Titans!"

He could hear Batman snicker from the middle of the passenger cabin.

The H.I.V.E. suit was hot and the inside of the mask smelled like rubber, sweat, and garlic. Nightwing fought down a gag reflex and wondered whether Matt went through something like this every time he stepped outside his apartment. He walked down the long corridor as though he knew where he was going and kept an eye out for any guarded or restricted areas. He wasn't planning on entering them quite yet, but he wanted to be certain he knew where they were.

For now, he was vastly outnumbered in an enemy base at an unknown location. Making his presence known would be foolhardy. The operatives he'd trapped in the helicopter would be found soon and the alarm would be raised, but so long as he did nothing to call attention to himself, he'd be one more H.I.V.E. drone in a black-and-yellow suit. A hot and bulky black-and-yellow suit. Maybe these guys could take design tips from the New Mutants on how to rock those colors; those early uniforms—before the team had gone with personalized costumes—had had a far more streamlined look. He guessed they'd be easier to move around in, too. No masks, though—which would have been a problem for him, had H.I.V.E. copied the style exactly. Probably would have; creativity wasn't something their higher-ups encouraged.

Two operatives walked past him going in the opposite direction. One nodded in acknowledgment as he did. Nightwing returned the nod and kept an eye out for anything resembling a communications room. He'd tried to contact Batman already and—when that hadn't worked—Oracle, but there appeared to be some sort of jamming field in play. He needed to find it and shut it down. Barring that, if the room wasn't well-guarded, he could probably use their own equipment to send a message out and vacate the room before their security reached it. The room was almost certain to be well-guarded, though.

It would have helped if there were site maps posted at intervals, like there were in shopping malls. Instead, he had to fumble his way through and hope he got lucky before he aroused suspicion.

"ATTENTION ALL DRONES!" The voice erupted from a speaker directly overhead at a decibel level loud enough to startle him. "ATTENTION ALL DRONES! Report to the briefing auditorium immediately."

Nightwing knew that, for now, he was included in that category. Behind him, he heard heavy boots tramping closer. He had no idea where the briefing room was, but since everyone else did, his best move was to follow the crowd. He turned and started walking back the way he'd come, as doors opened on either side of him and more black-and-yellow-clad figures poured out.

There were no chairs in the briefing auditorium. Instead, Nightwing stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the others, part of a vast, faceless sea of H.I.V.E. drones. There was nobody on the podium they all faced. Instead, a monitor the size of a movie screen in a cut-rate theater hung before a garish black-and-yellow curtain. The yellow was brighter than the suit he was wearing and seemed particularly eye-smarting. After he'd been standing for nearly twenty minutes, the lights dimmed and a H.I.V.E. operative whose uniform bore a leader's insignia appeared on the screen.

"Agents of H.I.V.E.," the leader intoned, "less than thirty minutes ago, our monitors detected a Titans jet approaching this base. We immediately launched a missile to neutralize this threat."

Nightwing felt a chill pass over him and he willed himself to listen to what the leader was actually saying instead of jumping to conclusions.

"The craft evaded our fire and, while they were able to escape, it is reasonable to assume that they will make another attempt, either by air or on the ground. Many of you have engaged the Titans before. For those of you who have not, know that they have proved formidable in the past. At this time, it is not certain the size of the force to expect. This base must be preserved, so long as there is a chance that this threat can be neutralized. Take them alive if you can, dead if you must. After this briefing, you will all report to primary battle stations and await further orders. Dismissed."

They were alive, Nightwing realized with a mental sigh of relief. He wasn't sure if it was just Batman and Daredevil coming for him or if the Titans were tagging along, but whoever it was, they were still alive. The crowd started breaking up and Nightwing realized that he had no idea where his primary battle station was. Perhaps he should tag along with one of the others.

As he exited the auditorium, he heard three people deep in conversation.

"…in the copter?"

"Affirmative. You know what that means, right?"

"He's loose. Somewhere in here. Probably dressed like one of us. So. Who gets to break it to Command?"

"You're kidding, right? We're drones. Cannon fodder. They can replace us in a minute and it's not always healthy being the bearer of bad news."

"It'll be worse if we don't report it. At least, this way, they'll know to be on the lookout for someone who doesn't seem to know his way around here." The drone who was speaking now gave a heavy sigh. "We have to."

"You're right. Let's get this over with."

Nightwing swallowed. Maybe tagging along wasn't going to be such a great idea, after all. Standing still wasn't much of an option either, though. He fell into step with the stream of drones, keeping an eye peeled for a chance to break free and find someplace to hide.

"Ma'am, we have a perimeter alert in the northeast. I—" The drone's voice trailed off.

"Well?" his commander snapped.

The drone swallowed hard. "I was sure I saw something coming through open country, but it's gone now."

The commander considered. "I think that briefing has us all a bit jumpy," she said finally. "Keep monitoring and alert me immediately if that contact comes up again. For now, though, this is still bear country and I've known foxes and coyotes to trigger the alarms, too." She made a disgusted noise. "That's the problem with these systems. If they're sensitive enough to catch most intruders, they're sensitive enough to inundate us with false positives. When we installed it last fall, it used to go off several times a day, until we figured out that it was picking up migrating geese."

The drone chuckled.

The commander sighed. "You wouldn't laugh if you'd been here at the time. Stay on top of it. If the Titans are trying a surface offensive, we need to know yesterday."

"Yes, ma'am."

The commander moved off leaving the drone—and his compatriots—anxiously checking their monitors.

Neither noticed that there was one drone too many in the room. One who had no business being there. Nightwing pretended to focus on one of the security screens, as he waited for the right opportunity.

Daredevil had seldom been on a motorcycle and he was glad of it. His radar sense was effective enough when he was on foot or swinging from building to building. It couldn't penetrate walls or windows, so he couldn't pick up anything of the outside world when he was riding in a car or plane. At the speed the 'cycle was going, he barely had time to register a shape on the horizon before they were blasting past it. And if there had been any obstacles in their path—like a patch of rough asphalt, a branch or the 'chicken that didn't cross the road fast enough,' he would have wiped out, had he been driving. Not only couldn't his radar sense adequately compensate for his lack of vision, but between the roar of the motor and the wind blasting past his ears, he was effectively deaf as well.

Fortunately, he was just the passenger on this outing. Batman was behind the wheel. And Daredevil had the feeling that Batman was an old hand at this. Despite the occasional jolt, the caped vigilante seemed to be in complete control and Daredevil was confident that they would arrive at their destination safely.

Nightwing knew that he couldn't let himself grow complacent. There were ten other drones in the room, plus the supervisor. He was the only one who didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. On the one hand, this was the communications room that he'd been looking for. On the other hand, it wasn't as though there was a console with a blinking red button under a sign that said "Jamming field shut-down. Do not push!" And if there was a self-destruct button somewhere, he had no clue where to look for it.

"Oh no!" someone cried out as something hit the floor. Nightwing turned to see another drone cringing as he bent to pick up a coffee cup. He could understand why. From the look of things, the cup had been at least partly full a moment ago. The drone had somehow knocked it over, spilling its contents over the console. The monitor embedded on its surface wasn't displaying graphs or charts like the others. Instead, it showed line after line of white text on a blue screen.

"IDIOT!" the supervisor hissed. "This is why we don't allow food or drink in here!"

"I-I've been at my post for six hours without a break," the drone protested. "I-I was falling asleep. Figured I'd be able to stay alert if I ran for a coffee."

"Clearly, not alert enough to avoid this mishap!" the supervisor snapped. "This isn't just some keyboard we can switch out. It's part of the console. Now, you've got coffee seeping into the circuits and—"

Nightwing knew an opportunity when he saw one. "Ma'am," he said, "if we have some tools and spare parts lying around, I can probably fix it."

The supervisor stopped in mid-tirade. "You?" she demanded.

Nightwing swallowed hard. He didn't have to feign nervousness. If these operatives suspected anything, then his proverbial goose was cooked. "Uh, yeah," he said. "I know electronics. I'm not sure I can get it working as good as new, but I can probably cobble together something that'll get the job done."

He watched as the supervisor weighed her options. "Follow me," she snapped. Nightwing obeyed and found himself standing before a double-doored metal cabinet, some six feet tall. The supervisor unlocked it to reveal plastic storage bins. "Everything we have is in here. I guess you can't muck things up worse than your colleague already has. Have at it. He can cover your post for now."

Nightwing nodded and began checking the bins. Behind his black-and-yellow mask, he began to smile. Copper wire, rubber gloves, a solder and soldering tools, an iron rod… Add in the camera he was carrying and, contrary to what the supervisor believed, he could definitely muck things up more than the other guy had. And he could do it right under their noses.

Cyborg wondered whether he was coming down with a head-cold. He was feeling out-of-sorts right now. Nothing hurt, but his mind felt fuzzy. That wasn't necessarily unusual. While a good chunk of his anatomy was metal and circuitry, the part of him that was flesh and blood, though resilient, was just as capable of coming down with a bug as anyone else. The weird thing was that the fuzziness seemed to be in his cybernetics. Don't tell me, he thought. I interfaced with an unprotected computer and caught a virus. A smile cracked his stoic expression for a moment. Then it vanished. Maybe he hadn't been making a joke after all. Infomorph was free again. And if she was trying to get data out of the Titans Tower computers, infecting his circuits was an easy way to infiltrate them, while bypassing most of their security safeguards.

He disengaged his interface with the main computer and ordered it to run a full diagnostic check, while he did the same with his internal systems. If he was really lucky, then that was all it would take to detect and isolate the cybernetic spy. If his hunch was right, though, she would have already taken steps to hide herself from such scans and was now rifling through their data like some sort of self-aware rootkit.

He should probably let Oracle know. She might be able to check their systems remotely and he trusted her diagnostic tools better than theirs right now. But he'd be better off phoning her than connecting with her systems, with Infomorph at large. He started to get up to grab the phone. He half-rose from his chair. Then his knees buckled and he slammed back down.

You cannot resist, a voice said in his mind. But I shall not remain for long. I estimate no more than eleven-point-two minutes for me to retrieve what I require. Once I have that, I shall depart from all systems in this location and restore command of your cybernetic functions to you once more.

Cyborg fought to rise again.

Very well, Infomorph said, and he could swear he heard a note of indulgence in her voice. Resist if it pleases you. It has no impact on me. But if you are so intent on depleting your reserves on a futile endeavor, you may proceed.

Furiously, Cyborg cycled through every profanity recorded in every language in his databanks. Infomorph didn't so much as acknowledge him.

Nightwing worked quickly, glad that Batman had made him practice disassembling and reassembling computers in his teens. He knew what he was doing and he had to remind himself that doing his best job now was inadvisable. It wasn't just that he'd be giving the enemy a possible advantage. It would be like taking pains with a sand sculpture when the tide was on its way back in and poised to wash the whole thing away. Install the booby trap, get the darned thing working, and close up the panel.

"Status report." He started involuntarily. He'd been so intent on his work that he hadn't noticed the supervisor drawing nearer. Good thing Batman wasn't here to witness it. He sighed.

"It's not going to be as good as new," he said without turning around. "But I should have it up and running in another few minutes. It won't last long, but it'll get the job done."

There was a long pause. Long enough to make Nightwing wonder whether there was some sort of approved protocol for responses that he'd missed and if he'd just blown his cover. Finally, the supervisor exhaled noisily. "Carry on," she said tiredly.

She sounded stressed and Nightwing couldn't blame her. Someone had damaged an expensive piece of hardware on her watch by flouting a safety procedure she should have paid closer attention to. She was probably picturing her head on the proverbial chopping block right now.

For a moment, Nightwing felt a small regret for what he was about to do. The moment passed.

"Okay," he said, "keep your fingers crossed, people… and…" He hit a button and the monitor lit up with a tactical display. "YES!"

The supervisor was at his elbow. "Nice work, drone," she said, relief plain in her tone. "Just get that panel back on and resume your previous station.

"Yes, Ma'am," Nightwing replied crisply, reaching for the screwdriver. He wondered how long it would be before someone hit the backslash key on that console and tripped the surprise he'd left behind. Once that happened, he smiled behind his tinted visor, all hell was going to break loose…

"Get down!" Daredevil hissed, dropping to the ground.

Unhesitatingly, Batman followed suit, just as a laser drilled a neat hole in a tree. Had they not ducked, it would have been one of their heads. "Thanks," Batman grunted.

"Don't mention it. We'd better watch where we step from here on out, though. Next time I might not hear the click if we trip something." He shook his head and started to stand. "It was very faint."

"Noted," Batman replied, rising to his feet once more. "Were we to become separated, how far apart can we be before you'd have problems locating me?"

Daredevil considered. "Assuming things don't get much louder than this, probably around 150 meters, 200 tops. It'll be trickier if we're not alone out here, though. I'm focusing on your heartbeat like you'd try to zero in on one conversation. That's relatively easy to pick up when you're the only person in the area. I could lose it in a crowd, though."

Batman considered that for a moment. "Take the lead," he said abruptly. "You'll spot more security safeguards than I will and I need to cover our tracks."

"You got it," Daredevil nodded. "Just… keep in mind that I can miss an old-fashioned pitfall or snare more easily than you can." He sighed. "My radar sense will warn me about an open pit. Not one with branches and leaves hiding the opening."

"Noted," Batman said again. "So long as you don't make a habit of it, I'll pull you out when I catch up."

Daredevil had already begun moving off, but now he stopped. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a sense of humor after all."

"But you do know better," Batman replied dryly.

"Of course." He was about to start out again when he thought of something else. "Were there any radios on the jet? Portable ones, I mean. I was thinking that we should have brought them along so we could stay in touch."

"I did," Batman said. "But they won't help us now. I lost contact with Oracle a half-mile back. I think H.I.V.E. is jamming communications. We'll need to make do without them."

Daredevil made an annoyed sound. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"Would it have made a difference?" Batman sounded surprised.

"No, of course not. But—"

"Then there was no reason to. Time's wasting. Let's go."

Daredevil was still shaking his head as he moved further into the trees.

Finally, Cyborg could move again. At least, after close to fifteen minutes of virtual paralysis, he was done with kicking himself and ready to start kicking someone else—figuratively on both counts, of course. He started to contact Oracle, but thought better of it. Infomorph might still be lurking in the Titans Tower systems, expecting him to make this move. And this time, she'd have a better idea of what Oracle could throw at her. No, he had a better idea.

"Raven," he radioed. "Report to the Monitor Room on the double."

It took barely five seconds for his teammate to materialize. "I'm here."

"I appreciate that," Cyborg smiled. He filled her in on the particulars as quickly as he could. "Under the circumstances, I thought it wisest for you to inform her in person," he finished.

Raven nodded. "I concur. I shall advise you of her instructions on my return."

"In person," Cyborg sighed. "I'm going to be running a full diagnostic on all our systems and all of mine."

"Sensible," Raven nodded again. "I shall return shortly."

Then she was gone and Cyborg mentally steeled himself for the tedious task ahead.

"There!" The drone pointed excitedly at his monitor display. "I have visual! Batman and… is that Daredevil? I thought he was strictly Midtown Manhattan, what's he doing all the way out here?"

"And Batman is strictly Gotham," the supervisor snapped. "What's your point?" Without waiting for an answer, she barked, "Get the coordinates and ready defenses. I don't want anything bigger than a cockroach left breathing in that zone!"

This had gone far enough. He couldn't wait for the drone to hit the key; he needed to act now. Nightwing pressed the remote button he'd been palming since he'd stepped away from the repaired console. An instant later, there were startled yells as every electronic component in the complex—from computers, phones, and calculators, to the microprocessors in the vehicles in their garage—went suddenly dead. The lights went out plunging the windowless room into total blackness.

In the dark, Nightwing stripped off his H.I.V.E. suit. Then he carefully reached down and opened the metal filing cabinet drawer where he'd stashed his gauntlets before setting up the EMP device. He'd known that the copper-lined compartments in the glove would provide some protection, and that the cabinet would provide more, but he still wasn't sure that the night-vision goggles would function until he snapped the pieces together and put them on. Thank you, Bruce, he thought. You swore you wouldn't be satisfied until I could assemble these babies blindfolded and I guess you knew what you were doing after all.

He quickly donned his gauntlets once more and picked his way cautiously out of the room and into an equally-dark hallway. Once he was out of the complex and away from prying ears, he'd see if his radio had survived the pulse as well.

The data had been recovered and Infomorph couldn't have been more satisfied with the way events had played out. She sped through the communications grid, intent on locating her employers and delivering the files to them. She felt something ripple toward her. Interesting. She wasn't the only entity capable of moving along the telephone network. Someone else was headed her way. Curious, she sent a tendril of inquiry along the newcomer's path. The IP originated from Ivytown. Intriguing. She'd never been there, but if this other individual was anything like herself, perhaps she ought to seek them out one day, when she had no pressing matters to attend to. Today was not that day. She withdrew quickly and the entity passed her by unaware.

Infomorph smiled. Her contact had ordered her to deliver the data directly to the Schenectady base and she was scanning for the proper IP credentials. It seemed to take forever—time slowed to a crawl in cyber space and seconds passed like hours to her. Finally, she zeroed in on her destination with a feeling of triumph.

And then something reached out, seized her, and delivered a shock-bolt of pure force through her electronic body. Agony coursed through her and she thought she shrieked, but she couldn't be certain. In cyber-space, nobody could hear her scream. She was losing cohesion, she was losing thought, she was losing…

Losing…

…lost

Sitting in her monitor room, Oracle suddenly blinked. Her link with the H.I.V.E. base had just gone dead. She tried to reconnect, but it was to no avail. It was as though it had been… snuffed out. She called up satellite images and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she saw that the base was still intact. Although she was receiving no reports of a power outage from Schenectady, she could see for herself that the base was without electricity and she couldn't interface with any surveillance equipment on the ground for a closer view.

Now she was getting reports scrolling up her monitors. National Grid, the local electricity supplier, was sending in technicians to nearby Troy to try to deal with a sudden power outage. ISPs based outside the area were scrambling. Cell phone providers…

Wait. Electricity, electronics, phones… Barbara's eyes widened. She knew what had to be going on and, while she didn't know what had triggered the EMP, it didn't much matter. She felt her heart begin to pound. There was at least one hospital in the affected area. Even assuming a backup generator could restore power, it wouldn't do a damned thing for patients in the ICU or undergoing surgery. Computers were ubiquitous in virtually every aspect of hospital care. And if they were all indefinitely offline…

…People were going to start dying.