-ooo-
Recoil
Part 5-5: (Aster's Story Part One) Escape from Brockton Bay
26 July 2011
New Delhi
Phir Sē
It did not work. It should have worked.
Phir Sē turned his head. A shadow emerged from the darkness at the far end of the room.
The time manipulator spoke in Punjabi. "Go. Tell me what is happening." But he already knew, from the juddering of the rock beneath his feet. It was not going well.
The teleporter vanished, and Phir Sē began trying to get his screens up and running again. Those that were not dark were showing static, and he was reasonably certain that he knew why. The cameras have been destroyed.
A flicker in the corner of his eye heralded the return of the teleporter. With him came the stench of burnt hair, overlaying another smell, one he knew all too well. Human flesh. Third degree burns. The man staggered, his costume half-melted to his body, then fell to one knee. Phir Sē was beside him in an instant, supporting him. The teleporter turned to look up at him, eyes sharp with pain.
"Talk to me," Phir Sē urged. "What happened? I thought you were too fast to be targeted."
"All around him were dead or dying," gasped the teleporter. "A hundred times I teleported, looking for someone alive, someone to save. Ninety-nine times, he failed to attack me. The hundredth time, he was waiting."
"I have medical supplies," Phir Sē urged. "Come, I will attend to your injuries."
"No," panted the teleporter. "We have to go. He is coming here. Now."
As if awaiting his words, the shaking and juddering increased a hundredfold; one of the screens shook loose of its mountings on the wall. It shattered when it hit the floor. The teleporter grabbed Phir Sē, and grimaced in concentration. Rocks began to fall from the ceiling; at first these came in ones and twos, then the entire roof caved in.
Phir Sē felt the shift in perspective that came from being teleported; the blink of an eye later, he was standing on bare sand. It was dark, but a cool breeze brought the scent of salt spray to his nostrils.
He was also alone.
"No!" he shouted, although he knew what must have happened. "No! Don't do this to me!" He ran to the top of a small dune and peered about, straining his eyes in the light of the crescent moon above. There was nobody there. The only footprints marring the pristine sand were the ones that he was leaving behind.
Still, he searched for a good fifteen minutes. His eyes adjusted to the dimness, the bright starfield augmenting the moon's weak light, and he quartered the area around where he had first arrived. He considered stepping back to the base, but the window between his departure and the collapse of the base was too narrow. The only safe time to arrive would be before he left, and he had long since learned that to even attempt to share a timeframe with himself was to invite excruciating and debilitating agony.
Eventually, he slumped to a seated position atop the dune. Staring out at the faint track the moonlight was leaving on the surface of the ocean, he reluctantly accepted that his friend was gone. He gave his life to save mine.
It was a sobering thought. The Thanda were powerful, almost unbeatable. But Behemoth's power was on a whole new level. I was arrogant, to think that my time bomb would kill him. To destroy him, I would have to go back and prevent him from becoming so powerful. But I cannot do that. He came into existence after I was born.
The logic was inescapable. Unchecked, unchained, the monster will lay waste to the world in his rage. If something is to be done about this, it has to be someone else. Someone young. He tilted his head in thought. The American cape girl, Weaver, had struck him as someone who didn't ever stop fighting. If she still lives … we will see.
Standing up, he brushed off his robes. I think it is time that I looked over the battlefield. Concentrating, he worked at creating a portal through both time and space. It cost him more effort than he had expected. My powers have been taxed. But I can't stop now. The monster has to die. Time has to be reset so that this never happens. The portal formed at last and he stepped through it, barely avoiding a stumble. Two weeks should be enough time for him to either vacate the area or be brought down.
10 August 2011
New Delhi
It was indeed enough; the landscape that Phir Sē stepped on to was blasted and desolate, devoid of any moving thing larger than a cockroach. Fifteen days ago, this had been a thriving metropolis, home to fourteen million people. Now, it was a grave. A tomb. Not even India's traditional scavengers would survive here; the bodies had been either buried too deep to disturb or burned away to ash and greasy smoke.
He topped a small rise and saw it ahead. The body, slumped against a fallen monolith. His power was still weakened, so he spent the time to walk down to where the girl lay.
It would not have mattered if he had hurried. The girl, unmasked but dressed in Weaver's costume, was dead. She lay with one hand resting on a mound of rocks, the other loose on the ground. The skin on her face was desiccated, cracked lips drawn back from her teeth. Sightless eyes, sunken into their sockets, stared up at the sky from behind round-lensed glasses. Dark hair, made dull by the everpresent dust, blew loose in the warm breeze.
Curious, he expended a modicum of his power to gain minute glimpses of what had gone before. The flickering images, the snatches of sound, did not convey much in the way of meaning to him, but he understood the gestalt of it. Her friend died in her arms. She chose to die here as well rather than live on.
He knew exactly what that sort of loss and pain felt like. It was something that he himself had suffered through. She is strong-willed. She only gave up because she believed that all hope had been extinguished. Given a chance to fight back, she would turn the world inside out to ensure that her friend lived instead of died. A grim smile creased his face. I believe that I might give her that chance.
Caution intruded. But she will not be able to do it alone. An ally is what is needed. A powerful ally, but one who will go undetected.
This was almost a paradox, a dichotomy. He mulled over it as he opened another portal. Time to see where the monster went.
-ooo-
2 August 2011
Brockton Bay
Miss Militia
"He's coming here," insisted the Alcott girl. "In three days, everyone in Brockton Bay will be dead. You can't fight him. You can't beat him. He'll steamroll over the best you can do."
Hannah put her hands on the desk, palm down. At her side, unbidden, her weapon morphed from a heavy warhammer to an Uzi, to a Desert Eagle, to a kukri. She drew a deep, calming breath. "What are the chances of successfully evacuating everyone in the city?"
Dinah's eyes went unfocused as her lips moved, then she looked at the acting Director of the PRT ENE once more. "Seventy-three point nine seven six three percent, if you start right now."
"Those aren't great odds," Hannah observed. She was about to go on, when Dinah interrupted.
"That goes up to ninety-one point three six three four percent if the city's capes fought a rearguard action."
Hannah grimaced. "I thought you said he'd steamroll over the top of us."
"He will, but it won't be quite as fast." Dinah shrugged. "He has a target. I don't know what it is. In all the scenarios where I hang around to try to find out, I die before I do. But if we can get everyone out of the city and disperse them, then we may be able to save most of them. I think."
"That's a lot of maybes." Hannah rubbed her chin. "I didn't know that precogs were able to predict Endbringer attacks."
"I can't, or rather, I couldn't," Dinah admitted. "I never picked up on Leviathan's attack. But it's occurred to me that if I check for the state of the city after the fact, I'm predicting the aftermath, not the attack itself. My power doesn't like being used that way, and I get horrific headaches from it, but I can make it work. Even if I have to go and lie down in a dark room for about a week afterward."
"Hm. Well, I can't afford not to take your warning seriously." Hannah opened a very special desk drawer and flipped back a protective cover. Hesitating just for one moment, she jammed the heel of her hand down on the broad red button. Almost immediately, the wail of the Endbringer siren began to sound throughout the city.
"Thank you." Dinah nodded seriously. "That's taken a weight off my mind."
"Where will you go?" asked Hannah. "Have you made arrangements?"
Dinah snorted. "Are you kidding? My parents are waiting at the curb with the car packed and the engine running. We're getting out while the getting is good."
"I don't blame you," Hannah agreed.
"If I find anything else out, I'll let you know." Dinah got up and headed for the door.
Hannah nodded. "Thanks. Now go. I've got an evacuation to arrange."
The office door closed behind the precog.
-ooo-
Evening, 4 August 2011
Brockton Bay
Purity
Kayden sat on the bed in the spare room of her small apartment, Aster strapped into the baby carrier beside her, and tried to decide what she should do.
She had only intended to return to Brockton Bay briefly, to pick up some things she had left behind, and then leave the city forever. But the Endbringer sirens had begun howling just hours after she got there, and then there were PRT troops in the streets.
She had been stuck in the city for two days now. Every day, Kayden saw more and more people flooding from the city. On the upside, Brockton Bay had lost a lot of its population following the Leviathan attack in May; on the downside, much of the remaining infrastructure was still damaged. People didn't have cars, or if they had cars, they couldn't get the gasoline to drive those cars out of the city.
The National Guard and the PRT had stepped up to the challenge, and convoys of trucks were ferrying refugees south to Boston or west to Concord. Nobody was allowed more than one suitcase, which was why more people weren't showing up at the Evacuation Depots.
Armed guards were also patrolling the city and the outbound roads; they were ruthless in ensuring that the steady stream of traffic was not interrupted by anything. The evening of the first day had seen an impromptu tollgate thrown across the highway to the west, with ABB members extorting drivers of everything they could lay their hands on before allowing them to continue. The PRT officer on site had not hesitated; the offenders were summarily executed and the toll-gate removed from the road. That had been the only such event.
However, this was not what Kayden was agonising over. She had a car, and gasoline as well. She could try to simply drive out again – after all, they were trying to evacuate the city – but all it would take would be one overzealous PRT officer recognising her face, and Aster would be in danger. Again.
Although at a pinch, she could drop everything and fly Aster out of the city on her own.
The problem was that she was not one hundred percent sure that this was the right thing to do.
Aster needed to be safe. That was a fact, as simple and basic as a stone wall. Kayden could not and would not accept anything less. But the PRT was calling out for volunteers to oppose Behemoth, to help delay the monster so that more refugees could escape the doomed city.
Behemoth, it was understood, wasn't playing games any more. Not that he ever had been, really, but the total destruction of the force facing him demonstrated a whole new level of ferocity. Worse, nobody really knew what was going on over there right at the moment, and what the PRT knew, they were probably keeping to themselves.
If I'm going to be truthful, it's probably best that we don't know the full story. The Endbringers were bad enough when there was a twenty-five percent casualty chance. For Behemoth to wipe everyone out … that's beyond terrifying.
Absently, she smoothed the covers of the bed on which she was sitting. Theo had used this bed, until she had given him up to the PRT. It hadn't been her idea, exactly; Crusader had thought of it, after being told that feelings of isolation and loneliness were integral to many trigger events. It was imperative that Theo trigger, so Justin had abandoned Kayden's stepson to the authorities, and Kayden … had let it happen.
It worked. Theo triggered. He became a cape and joined the Wards. He became a hero. And then he attended the Behemoth fight in New Delhi, and was killed with all the rest.
He was supposed to challenge Jack Slash, to kill the man before he could slaughter everyone Theo had ever known. But now my son is dead. I let this happen to him. He died because of my decisions. Because I was terrified of Jack Slash killing Aster.
Aster shifted in her sleep, making a vague whimpering noise. Kayden leaned down and undid the straps, then lifted her carefully out of the carrier, cradling the infant close to her. As always, Aster's nearness soothed her; the warmth as the baby snuggled into her arms awoke an answering warmth in her heart.
I want to be a hero. Before Leviathan, even, I was striking at the ABB, not because they were Asian, but because they were criminals. She had offered several times to team up with the heroes, but the PRT had always turned her down. They couldn't be seen to be working alongside a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Turning herself in would have been a bad idea; she had committed more than one crime during her tenure with the Empire, and a prison term would have resulted. Aster would have been taken from her. I could not allow that.
I could leave Brockton Bay with Aster, right now. If anyone tried to stop me, they would regret it. The temptation was strong.
But Theo had been a hero. The type of hero that she wanted to be. He had stepped up and volunteered for the fight against Behemoth, knowing full well that he could be one of the twenty-five percent. He couldn't have known that it was going to be one hundred percent. But even if he had …
She shook her head, unable to shake the conviction that he would have volunteered anyway. Because that's the sort of person he was.
I could leave, or I could stay. Join the defence of the city. Hold back Behemoth long enough to allow a few more innocents to get away. It's not a one hundred percent chance of death.
She wished she sounded more convincing, even in her own head.
What's more important? To prove that I can be a hero, or to get Aster well away from here?
It was harder than she had imagined it would be, but eventually she arrived at her decision. I'll save Aster now. I can be a hero later. It'll be easier in another city, where they don't know me.
That was when the knock came at the front door of the apartment.
Kayden stood up, then carefully deposited the sleeping baby back in the carrier. Is this a soldier urging me to evacuate, or an opportunistic thief? She hoped that it would be a thief; she needed to take out her fear and anger on something. Or someone.
Leaving the baby carrier out of the way of the door, she stepped up and called out, "Who is it?"
"It's Miss Militia!" came the unexpected answer. "Open the door, please. I'm alone and I'm not looking for a fight."
"Go away!" Kayden called back. I really don't need this. And how the hell did she know I was here?
"Please!" The hero's voice was strained. "Kayden, I need to speak with you. It's about Aster."
She nearly unleashed a blast through the door at the mention of her daughter's name. "Leave my daughter out of this! Remember what happened to the last people who took her!"
"Kayden," Miss Militia replied. "Behemoth is coming for her."
Hannah sat opposite Kayden at the small table. The youngest member of the Anders bloodline lay in her carrier, blissfully asleep. Kayden glared at Hannah, a deep glow in her eyes intimating that she was ready to power up at a moment's notice. Hannah noted faint lines on the other woman's face, lines that had not been there in the photos that had been posted online.
"You're going to have to explain that," Kayden stated flatly. "The only reason I let you in was so that you wouldn't broadcast it far and wide. What do you mean, Behemoth is coming for Aster?"
"Endbringer behaviour has been a subject of intense scrutiny since they first started appearing," Hannah began. "One very strong theory hold that every time they show up, they have an objective. Once they've achieved the objective, they can let themselves be driven away. One such objective seems to be to find and kill people with … power. Lots of power."
Kayden's face barely twitched. "And so Behemoth is targeting my baby." The disbelief was strong in her voice. "If that's true, why did he emerge in India? We're thousands of miles away."
"We think he had a different target there, but he wasn't able to get to them in time," Hannah explained. "So then he switched to his secondary target."
"Which is Aster." Kayden's voice wasn't any more receptive than her expression.
"Which is Aster," Hannah agreed.
Kayden stared at her, and Hannah could see how close to the edge the petite brunette was. How little it would take to cause her to go into protective-mother mode all over again. The trouble was that with Purity, protective-mother mode came with a minimum safe distance. Several city blocks seemed about right. "I'm going to need a little more than that to believe a word that you're saying."
Hannah tilted her head. "About the power thing, or about how I know?" The knife was sheathed at her hip, but it could become a gun at any second. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to try to beat Purity to the draw.
Kayden grimaced. "Okay, I get it. Aster's third generation. There's a baby in Toronto who's supposed to have triggered as a third gen, so I can't dispute the power aspect." The fact that Aster had not yet triggered was only a detail; they both knew full well that trigger events required stress, and an Endbringer attack was more or less the definition of 'stressful situation'.
"All right, then." Hannah took her phone from her belt and placed it on the table between them. "I recorded a phone call today. You need to hear it."
From the look on Kayden's face, she had not been expecting this. "What does a phone call have to do with Aster?"
"Everything." Hannah swiped the phone awake, then clicked through the options until the voice recorder was ready to run. "You're going to have to listen carefully. The sound isn't great." She pressed the Play button.
-ooo-
Midday, 4 August 2011
Brockton Bay
Miss Militia
Hannah was a founding member of the Wards, and in fact had been going out as a superhero before they were formed. In her time wearing the costume, she had participated in many exercises to do with getting everyone out of a certain area. She'd cleared buildings, assisted with the evacuation of shopping malls, and once even helped ensure that three city blocks were clear of all civilians following a bomb scare.
None of it compared even a little with attempting to evacuate an entire city in advance of Behemoth's arrival. No matter how fast she delegated chores, more people were demanding her time on an hourly basis. She was just fortunate that she didn't really have to sleep, and that she never forgot a thing, otherwise she would have been utterly overwhelmed rather than just severely overworked.
Still, when her desk phone rang, it took her a moment to register that the call was coming from a payphone. "PRT Director's office, Miss Militia speaking."
The voice on the other end was one she had heard before. "I hope you're proud of yourself."
It was Dinah's mother. She sounded bitter. "I beg your pardon, Mrs Alcott. I'm not sure what you're talking about. Is Dinah all right?" With her free hand, she pulled out her mobile, activated it, then tapped the icon for voice recording. Then she put the desk phone on speaker.
"No. She is not. Do you know why that is? Because she just worked her way into a total physical collapse to try to get you some more information. That's why."
Hannah blinked. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs Alcott. If there's anything the PRT can do -"
"The PRT has done quite enough, Miss Militia. You didn't stop that man from taking my daughter and you weren't the ones to get her back. You're just lucky that she made me promise to make this call."
There was nothing to say to that. Anna Alcott was perfectly correct in that the PRT and the Protectorate had done nothing to help Dinah. It had fallen to the villains to correct that wrong and return the girl to her family.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry -"
"Save it. Before she passed out, Dinah wrote down a message for me to give to you. There are four parts to it. Are you listening?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm listening."
"Good. Because I'm not going to repeat myself. The first part is, Behemoth is hunting Purity's child. Who is in Brockton Bay, right now, with Purity. At their old address. Repeat that back."
Hannah stared at the phone. "Behemoth … is hunting Purity's child. Who is in Brockton Bay, right now, with Purity. At their old address."
"Good. Second part is, if Behemoth catches her, or if she dies, the consequences will be dire. For everyone. Repeat that back."
"If Behemoth catches her, or if she dies, the consequences will be dire for everyone."
"Good. Third part is, if Purity flees with her child, they have a four point one three six one percent chance of escaping. Repeat that back."
A deep breath. "If Purity flees with her child, their chance of escaping is four point one three six one percent."
"Good. Fourth part is, if you take the child, she has an eighty-seven point four one three six percent chance of escaping safely. Repeat that back."
Mechanically, she parroted the words. "If I take the child, she has an eighty-seven point four one three six percent chance of escaping safely." Her thoughts were awhirl; I can't abandon the battle!
"Good." There was a click, and she was listening to the dial tone.
-ooo-
Evening, 4 August 2011
Purity
Kayden sat motionless even after the recording ended. "And Dinah is …?"
"The best precog I've ever seen," Miss Militia supplied. "When she gives probabilities in the fraction of a percentile, she means it. If she says something will happen, it means that there is not even the slightest chance that it won't."
Kayden's knuckles had gone white with tension. "Why did you bring this recording to me? To order me to hand over my child?"
Miss Militia shook her head. "No."
The blunt answer took Kayden by surprise. "What? But …"
"Listen." The superhero leaned forward over the table. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to leave people to fight in my stead, even if it's to save the life of a child. The only reason I'm here at all is because it's Dinah Alcott saying it."
To her surprise, Kayden found herself protesting. "But she said that if you don't take Aster, then Behemoth will catch her, and bad things will happen to the world. You can't ignore that. Can you?" Unsaid yet clearly audible to all were the words: You're a hero. Heroes do the right thing.
Miss Militia's voice was low and controlled. "I am not, repeat not going to take your child away from you without your permission. In fact, I will only take her if you ask me to do so. If you're not willing to do that, then take her yourself and go. You might even hit that four percent chance. I'll be staying and organising the defence of my city, to give you the best possible chance of getting away."
And there's the sticking point. At last, Kayden saw to the core of the matter. Miss Militia had been made acting Director of the PRT in Brockton Bay. In a very real sense, she saw herself as being responsible for the city and everyone in it. To leave others to defend the city from Behemoth, even for such a good reason as this, ran counter to everything she stood for.
But on the other hand, Dinah's message spelled out Miss Militia's duty to the world. She had to take Aster, to save her from Behemoth. The conflict between duty and honour were tearing her right down the middle.
It was with a shock of epiphany that Kayden recognised that very same struggle in herself. We aren't so different. For her, however, saving Aster was the primary goal; proving herself a hero was secondary. But now, with Dinah's message, those two goals were swinging into alignment.
If I stay and fight, can I do more to save Aster than if I take her and flee? It was an odd idea.
Slowly, she leaned down and took Aster from the carrier. Gently, she cradled the sleeping infant in her arms. "I love her more than I love anyone or anything in my life," she murmured. "Please, take good care of her. Keep her safe."
Miss Militia nodded. "I promise, Kayden." Reaching up, she pulled down her scarf. "And my name is Hannah."
Kayden couldn't bring herself to smile. "Thank you, Hannah."
"No. Thank you." Miss Militia pulled her scarf back into place. "There's one more favour I'd like to ask of you."
-ooo-
Just After Midnight, 5 August 2011
Brockton Bay
Miss Militia
"You have to be shitting us!" Crusader's voice rang harshly across the forecourt of what had once been the Forsberg Gallery, drawing nods and murmurs from the other capes that were gathered there.
More parahumans had shown up to Hannah's makeshift council of war than she had dared hope for, but the numbers were still dismayingly low. Worse, the Brute contingent was almost non-existent. Nearly all of those who were able to face someone like Behemoth, and who were willing to do so, had attended that last battle. None of those had returned.
"I shit you not." Her retort, as blunt as it was, silenced Crusader at least temporarily. "I'm not going to soft-soap this. There's a better than even chance that you'll die today if you face Behemoth." She looked from face to face from atop the stone block that she was using as a podium. "There's a slightly lower chance that you'll die if you just decide to run. But not much lower. Behemoth played hopscotch across Eastern Europe before Scion forced him underground in Finland. He's even more indiscriminate than he was before."
"So why shouldn't we just cut and run now?" demanded Crusader. "It's not our fight. Give us one good reason."
Not all the capes there were of the remnant of the Empire that followed Purity. There were even a few heroes among them. But Hannah could see that his words had an effect on them. There was doubt there. People were wavering.
"I'll give you three," Hannah said flatly. "First. Anyone who steps up today gets their record wiped clean. Blanket pardon for everything you've ever done. Second. The civilian population still hasn't been totally evacuated. Every minute you delay him is another few people who get away. Third." She nodded to the baby-carrier that Kayden held. "Purity's daughter is his target. I've been specifically asked to get her to safety. But I can't do it alone."
"Wait." Crusader stepped forward. "Where's everyone else? Where's the rest of the PRT? The Protectorate?"
"We're it," Hannah admitted bleakly. "We lost the bulk of our fighting capes in New Delhi. The rest are making excuses or just not returning our calls. Every PRT soldier this side of Boston is a volunteer."
"So let me get this straight." Heads turned as the new speaker pushed her way through the crowd. She was young, cloaked, carried herself with an air of confidence. The scowling-woman mask did not detract from her general demeanour or her tone of voice. "Behemoth's after the kid, yeah?"
Hannah's lips tightened behind the scarf. It had been her decision to release Shadow Stalker from juvenile detention; after all, they needed every cape they could muster for this occasion. But now she was beginning to rethink that idea. The heroes had an idea of what the ex-Ward had done, and the villains didn't like her at all.
"Yes." Purity replied to the question when nobody else seemed to want to. "Which is why we have to get her to safety. I've asked Miss Militia to do that for me."
"Got a better idea. No kid, no Behemoth." Shadow Stalker's hand came out from beneath her cloak holding a crossbow; it slanted in the direction of Aster's baby carrier.
Time slowed to a crawl. Hannah had a weapon to hand, but Shadow Stalker could trigger her crossbow before Hannah could aim and fire. All around here were capes who had similarly lethal abilities. They only needed a second to bring them into action.
The trouble was, Shadow Stalker needed less time than that.
"Shadow Stalker," Hannah said carefully. "Don't do this." She wished that she'd had time to apprise them all of the full content of Dinah's message.
"Seriously, am I the only one who's thought of this?" demanded Shadow Stalker, her aim never wavering. "The rug-rat dies, Behemoth fucks off somewhere else, the city lives. What part of this do we not understand? I'm saving our lives here, guys. You'll thank -"
There was a loud whine; her upper body exploded messily. The crossbow, mercifully untriggered, clattered to the paving stones. Everyone looked around at L33t, who sheepishly hefted a massive rifle that almost looked bigger than him. Acrid smoke curled out of its barrel. "Whoops?" he ventured. "That was supposed to be set on stun."
Purity crouched over Aster's baby carrier, making sure that she was all right. Hannah approached the Tinker, ensuring that the three inch wide barrel didn't point in her direction. Things squished under her feet; she didn't let herself think too closely about it.
"On the one hand," she stated quietly, "that was terrible weapon discipline. On the other, you may just have saved us all. So I'll give you a pass on that one. How high do the settings on that thing go?"
"Uh, that was it. I meant to put it on 'stun', but I think I might've got the polarisation settings reversed. So I would've been firing stun beams at Behemoth." He looked ill at the thought.
"Not a great idea," Hannah agreed. "Just leave it on that setting, put the safety catch on, and don't fire it again until Behemoth arrives."
"Safety catch?" L33t looked thoughtful. "I knew I forgot something."
"Look, just … don't point it at anyone, all right?" Hannah nudged the enormous muzzle skyward. "Or at any buildings. At all. Please."
"Okay, okay, geez." L33t kept the gun pointing in the air. "Uh, is the kid okay?"
Hannah looked over toward where Purity was cooing into the carrier. "I presume so."
"Good." He grimaced. "I don't even know how she coulda done that. Killing kids … there's a line, y'know?"
Über, next to him, pointed at Hannah's shoulder. "You've, uh, you've got some Shadow Stalker on you."
"Thanks." Feeling remarkably surreal, she peeled the shred of flesh from her shoulder and let it fall to the ground. Then she turned to the rest of the capes. Some were looking rather pale around the gills; she thought she heard someone throwing up, at the edge of the crowd. "All right!" she called out. "If you're staying, stay! If you're going, go! I'm not asking the impossible of you. Just hold out for as long as you can! Any questions?"
"Uh, yes?" That was Flashbang, holding up his hand as if he were back in school. "When's Behemoth due to arrive?"
As if in answer, the ground shuddered. All but a few of the assembled capes staggered. Hannah's earpiece crackled to life. "Dragon here. Behemoth incoming. ETA three minutes."
"Three minutes!" she called out. "Get ready!"
Crusader shot Flashbang a dirty look. "You had to ask."
Hannah dashed over to where Purity held Aster's carrier. "We have to go now."
Kayden nodded. "Promise me, you won't let her forget me." She thrust the carrier into Hannah's hands.
Hannah was already turning away. "I won't." Purity sent one last agonised look after the baby carrier, then turned away herself, shouting orders. The ex-Empire capes snapped to obey, as did a couple of the others. Faultline was already organising her Crew. The remains of New Wave were integrating themselves with the mercenaries. Endbringers make for strange bedfellows.
Holding the carrier carefully, Hannah hurried to the helicopter that perched in the middle of the street. Its rotors were already turning as she climbed in. With a start, she realised that Über was sitting in the pilot's seat.
"What -?" But she didn't need to finish the question. We need the very best pilot we can get. He's it.
"Buckle up, sweetheart!" he called over the rising roar of the engine. The ground shook again, harder, transmitting through the skids into the chopper itself, distinct from the vibration of the engine itself. "Gonna be a rough ride!"
Hastily, she strapped herself in, then clamped the carrier down between the seats. The roar of the engine rose to a thunder and the helicopter danced on its skids. Beneath them, the ground shook a third time, and wide cracks raced across the pavement. Über yanked back on the collective; the chopper rocketed skyward like a startled quail. Hannah was too busy hanging on to see what was happening below, but she was sure it was nothing good.
Banking the aircraft, Über swung it around to head past the Forsberg Gallery. "Which way?" he bellowed.
Hannah had been thinking about this. "Northwest!" she screamed back. They had to thread the gaps between communities so as to minimise civilian casualties.
"Got it! Oh, shit!"
Aster had chosen that moment to wail even louder; Hannah looked up from tightening the restraints on the baby to see the Gallery tilting toward them. Below, the ground was undulating like a rug being shaken out; there were blasts of energy of different types lashing back and forth. But right now, a building was falling on them.
Leviathan had done the Forsberg no favours; Shatterbird's attack, less than a month later, had completed the devastation. Gone were the floor-to-ceiling windows. The ceiling height was technically enough to fly the chopper through, if it weren't for the inconvenient pillars within. Given the choice, Hannah would have decided to go around. But they weren't being given that choice; it was either fly through or let it land on them.
Taking a firm grip on a hand-hold, Hannah leaned out of the chopper. A multi-barrel rocket launcher formed in her free hand; she fired as fast as the ammunition could form in the launcher. One pillar exploded, then another; Über dodged and jinked the chopper, avoiding the worst of the debris.
Around them, the entire building tilted upward as it leaned farther over. Hannah swore under her breath as she targeted more pillars. Über overcorrected and the skids bounced off of the floor, then did it again to prevent the tail rotor from gouging into the ceiling.
Hannah blasted another pillar, then yet another. They flew through the yellow-black explosion, rocketing into the open air at a forty-five degree angle as the Forsberg fell away below them.
Aster was shrieking at a tone that carried clearly to Hannah's ears, despite the engine noise. Über was yelling too, but in exhilaration.
And then … nothing.
No helicopter, no noise, no screaming. No Endbringer.
Hannah drifted in space, at peace.
I've been here before. Aster just triggered. The conclusions formed slowly in her mind.
She looked around for Aster or Über, but could not see them. They're having their own visions. I wonder if they'll remember them?
Ahead of her, she saw an alien landscape. Creatures crawled, scuttled, oozed over it. They weren't human, or anywhere near it. Clouds formed, looming ominously. A storm began, lightning lashing the landscape. Some creatures were struck, dying instantly. Others survived.
Before she could ask herself of the significance of this scene, reality returned.
The helicopter was shaking; Hannah could smell burning plastic. "What happened?" she screamed.
"Behemoth!" shouted Über. He wrestled with the controls. "I blacked out for a bit! He must have struck us with lightning!"
He was fighting to keep the aircraft aloft, but it was a losing battle. There was an ominous grinding noise coming from somewhere behind and above them; the engine was beginning to stutter in and out. Behind them, they heard the unmistakeable bellow of Behemoth; the sound wave struck the helicopter and flipped it end for end like a paper airplane in a gale. Hannah saw the rotors come off and fly past the craft. The engine screamed for a moment, then tore itself to pieces in an orgy of destruction.
"Brace yourself!" yelled Über, just before the helicopter hit the ground.
They were lucky that the engine had already been failing; as it was, when they lost all lift, they were only about thirty feet off the ground. The tail touched down first, crumpling under the weight of the fuselage, then the chopper flipped into the air and landed on its nose. Metal shrieked and fibreglass crumpled, but they still had enough angular momentum to keep going.
The skids went next; the chopper landed on them, but there was no finesse to that landing. They crumpled, and the stricken aircraft ended up skidding on its belly. Then, just because Murphy likes a good laugh, it turned sideways and rolled several times. Something struck Hannah's head, and she blacked out.
Phir Sē stepped from the portal and stumbled. This was possibly due to the near-constant juddering of the ground, but more likely because his powers were drawing more strength from him than he was comfortable with. But he was where he needed to be. Directly in front of him were the crumpled remains of a crashed helicopter; within the downed aircraft was the person he was looking for. If Behemoth was hunting her, then she must be powerful indeed.
"Hello?" he called in English. "Hello? I am friend!"
On the side of the helicopter, where the metal was crumpled back on itself, a bright orange dot appeared. He smelled burning metal. Quickly, the orange dot transcribed a rough oval, almost as if someone with an oxyacetylene torch were burning a hole from within. When the metal separated, he stepped back to allow it to fall past him, then moved forward again.
Within the helicopter, there were three people. One was the famous hero Miss Militia; she seemed to be unconscious and possibly injured. The second was a muscular man that Phir Sē did not know. That man lolled in his straps, with his head hanging at an odd angle; Phir Sē did not believe that he would ever be waking up. And the third was a baby in a carrier between the two.
At first, he was at a loss as to who had cut the access hole, until his eyes fell on the infant, who was giving him the most thoroughly appraising stare he had ever gotten from someone so young. The tip of her finger was still glowing. As he watched, she raised the chubby digit and blew on it; the glow faded. He had seen the same gesture a thousand times in Westerns; to see it on such a young child was incongruous in the extreme. There could be only one explanation.
"Hello, little one," he said softly. "You have triggered, yes?"
She did not speak; it was quite possible that she was too young for her mouth to form words. But the well, duh look she gave him made up for her silence. It was obvious she understood his words all too well.
Miss Militia began to murmur something, then her eyes snapped open. She made the transition from unconscious to awake in an instant; in the next moment, Phir Sē found the muzzle of a large-bore pistol nudging into his left nostril.
"Back off, buddy," she snapped. "Hands off the baby."
He was very careful not to move his hands. "Is all right. I take her to safety. Yes?"
She tried to move, and grimaced in pain. Looking more closely, he could see that her legs were pinned by the instrument panel; they were also quite possibly broken.
"Can you save her?" she gritted. "Behemoth can't get his claws on her."
"He will not," Phir Sē assured her, fully aware of the growing tremors in the ground. "She safe."
With a sigh, she let the pistol fall and unclipped the clamps holding the carrier in place. "Aster," she murmured. "I don't know if you can understand me, but you have to remember this. Your mother's name was Kayden Anders, and she was a hero."
Aster – that was a pretty name for a child – turned to Miss Militia. She gave the flag-wearing hero a serious nod. "Ga," she enunciated.
Another tremor shook the ground. Phir Sē nearly lost his balance, then steadied himself. Reaching in, he scooped the carrier from Miss Militia's lap. "Goodbye," he said, then decided that more had to be said. "You great hero. Big fan."
Hannah nodded; although she felt flattered, this wasn't the time or the place. "Go," she grunted. "Get her out of here."
"Getting," he assured her. An oddly wavering space began to form beside him as rubble tumbled from nearby buildings. "Will fix all this."
Hannah dragged her phone out and found a particular number; she dialled it and made the call.
"Yes?"
"Mrs Alcott. Tell Dinah. Aster is safe."
There was a long pause. "Thank you. I will."
Just before the robed man stepped through the portal, Aster raised her hand in a wave. Hannah waved back, then watched the portal close behind him.
-ooo-
27 July 2011
The Ruins of New Delhi
Phir Sē
His entry was clumsy, causing much disturbance in the surrounding environment. The fault was completely his; he was weary, almost at the end of his tether. His control was slipping. But I have just this to do, and I can stop.
"-sly?" he heard the girl, Weaver, cry out as he emerged fully into the timestream. Taking advantage of a cloud of dust, he placed Aster behind a rock so that Weaver would not see her. The fewer questions, the better.
He stepped forward; she stared belligerently at him from where she was seated beside the grave of her friend.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Her voice was harsh, and not only from the dust in the air. "What happened? Did your one big shot not work as well as advertised?"
It pained him to admit that she was right. "Should have worked," he replied dully. "But monster was stronger. Took power, used it. Nearly killed me. Narrow escape."
Her expression was accusing. "So you made him stronger, and more able to kill."
There was nothing to say to that; he settled for a nod.
They both fell silent; he could tell that she was angry at him. For his part, he was trying to decide on the best way to raise the subject of sending her back in time. If I just say so, she may say no, out of spite.
"Well?" she asked at last.
He tried to put on a neutral expression. "Well, what?"
"What the fuck are you going to do to fix your fucking mess?" Her voice echoed across the blasted landscape. He mentally blessed all the gods that he believed in that Aster was intelligent enough to remain quiet.
"Have used much power," he explained, spreading his hands. That much was true, anyway. "Need to recoup." This wasn't quite a lie, but he didn't intend to wait that long. "Stepping through time … not easy." Now, there was an understatement.
"So you can't just build another fucking time bomb and scorch his ass to small pieces, then?"
Even if I could, I would not. Not after the last debacle.
"Not know how to locate him," he told her, lying through his teeth. "Base, equipment, all gone." That part was true, anyway. "Rocks fell. My friend is dead."
"Fuck."
It was now or never. "Can do one thing." Dangle the bait …
"What's that?" Predictably, she leaped at it.
He tried not to make his smile too wide. "Time. Can send someone back. Warn about this, so never happens."
She frowned. "You mean me."
He gestured to the horizon of blasted, scorched rock, barely visible in the shadowed night. "No other volunteers, yes?"
"What makes you think I'm going to fucking volunteer to get sent on a one-way trip back in time?" Her tone was still hostile, but even though she didn't know it, she was walking straight into … well, it wasn't quite a trap. More of a one-way door.
Time to sink the hook. He leaned forward. "Back then …" he said gently. "Your friends all still alive."
She climbed to her feet; the look in her eyes told him exactly what he wanted to know. The despair had been shaken off, replaced by determination. Yes. She is the one. I chose well.
"Right. Do I need to do anything special?" Her tone was all business now.
He shook his head. "No. Just stand there. Effect will take little while to take hold. Might help to breathe deeply." Especially where I'm sending you.
He gritted his teeth as he began to work on the portal. This was going to be a tough one. Theoretically, he knew how it would work, but even at the height of his powers, it would have taxed him. Sending two people back so far, to two different points in the timestream …
I don't know if I can do this.
I have to.
I don't have a choice.
This was going to be another clumsy portal. There wasn't anything he could do about it. There was a lot of energy going into it, and while Weaver's end could easily stand for a little more chaos, Aster's had to be as quiet as possible. Which meant that on this end, he was creating a beacon that would be visible for miles.
The twenty-two year connection was made, and he was working on the fifty-year one when she called out to him again.
"How far back am I going?" Her voice was thin against the roaring in his ears. "Couple of months, a year?"
"Oh my, no," he replied, trying to make his grimace look like a smile. He tasted blood in his mouth. "Sending you back twenty years."
The second connection snapped into place, and he did not waste a moment. He could hold this for a minute, perhaps a little less. With the first connection, he reached out and gathered in Weaver; she froze, separate from the timestream, ready to be rocketed to where she needed to be. He hoped that she had been breathing deeply.
Holding the power, feeling a warm trickle down his face as he began to bleed from both nostrils at once, he leaned down and lifted Aster Anders out of the carrier.
"Listen to me," he gasped in English. "Remember these words. Brockton Bay. Nineteen eighty-nine. Find Weaver. She knows how to save the world. Do not use your powers."
It was time. His strength was waning fast. The second connection snapped on to Aster, and he let her go. For just a moment, she hung immobile in the air.
Once they re-enter the timestream, the changes will propagate instantly, rewriting everything. I will never know what I have done. There are no second chances. I just hope I have done enough.
He released his hold on both portals. Both girls, older and younger, vanished from mortal sight.
End of Part 5-5