Trump Card Pt 25 (Patreon)

Thursday, February 3, 2011

“It's been five days.” Lung's voice was ominous. “You promised results. I have not seen results.”

Jin could feel the radiant heat from where he was standing, several yards away from his boss. “I – I've been doing my best.” He did his best not to babble. Babbling would make him seem incompetent and weak. It would quite literally be the death of him if Lung decided that he had become part of the problem.

“Your best.” The words were ominous. “Has your best gotten them into my grasp? Has your best found my missing men?”

There was no need to wonder who 'they' were. 'They' were Pwnage, especially Hax, who had humiliated Lung in a way that nobody had in Jin's memory, but also including Über and L33t, who had supplied much of the gleeful commentary. The computer had not survived the experience.

“I have leads,” Jin told him quickly. “We've narrowed down the area that this group -” One of his men had made the mistake of uttering the word 'Pwnage' in front of Lung. The result had been a swift and agonising death. “- may have their base in. I have men staked out through that area. If they see any of them, I will know immediately.”

“What of this rumour that Hax is really a teenage schoolgirl?”

Jin shook his head. “The girl in question is the one who was rescued from Coil by Hax.”

“Could it be a cover story to protect her identity?”

“I investigated that possibility through our connections with the PRT. The reports I read, the security footage I viewed, all match up precisely with the relevant footage from their show. I don't know who started that rumour, but it's baseless. The girl's alibi is rock-solid.”

“Is there any sort of connection between them?” pressed Lung. “We could use the girl as bait.”

Jin considered that. “Not if we wanted to catch them unawares,” he concluded. “Even if there was a connection – personally, I think Hax did it as a publicity stunt – once we kidnap this girl, we advertise to these people that we're gunning for them. This will lose us the element of surprise and give them time to prepare. Without Oni Lee, we're not as strong as we were. Also, according to that show, Hax teleported to the interior of Coil's base, despite never having been there before.”

Realising what he had just said, he froze. I just called the ABB weak. If he chooses to take it the wrong way, I am so dead.

Lung's jaw went rigid and his eyes flared. The heat coming off of him redoubled. Jin thought that he could smell Lung's clothes beginning to scorch. But, ever so slowly, Lung nodded. “We do not want to give them the slightest advantage,” he conceded. “When we strike, it will be swift and sudden and unexpected. Merciless.”

Relief poured through Jin, but he didn't allow it to affect his tone or expression in the slightest. “Yes, sir. I was thinking that exact same thing myself. Like it or not, with Hax in the group, these people are actually good at what they do. We don't want to give them any chances at all.”

“True.” Lung grimaced. “And the men who ran?”

“They both left town. Boston. I think. I have men looking for them there …?” He made the statement into a question. Do I continue with that, or leave it alone?

“Put more men on it,” Lung ordered. “I want those two back. And let me know the moment that you find out where those people have their base. We will capture them alive, with their equipment intact. And then we shall use it to show their adoring public the consequences of their actions.” His fingers curled, mimicking the talons that would decorate them once his transformation began. “Very, very slowly.”

“I'll do that, sir,” Jin promised.

“Good,” grunted Lung. “Go.”

Jin escaped, thankful that he could blame the sweat that sheened his brow on the excess heat being generated by Lung. Now I've just got to locate Tae and Pran before they drop out of sight altogether. And wait for Pwnage to poke their heads up again.

They've been very quiet since Hax fought Lung.

Where are they?

<><>

“Ah crap, what now?”

At Über's exasperated tone, I looked up from where I had been working on my armour in the back of the van. Pushing my goggles up on to my forehead, I peered out through the windshield. We appeared to be travelling along a nondescript country road. I had some idea that we were travelling west, and that the Adirondacks were to the north of us; the rolling, occasionally forested hills seemed to bear out that impression. But where we actually were, I had no idea.

A moment later, I realised what Über's complaint had been about; when I looked through the rear windows of the van, I could see flashing red and blue lights.

“Dude, you musta been speeding.” L33t, in the front seat, punched him lightly in the arm. “Way to keep a low profile.”

“I was not speeding.” Über clicked on the indicator and pulled the van over to the side of the road. “Local cop probably wants to harass the out-of-staters.”

“Told you we should've gotten New York plates.”

“Which is illegal.”

“Hello?” L33t's voice was almost mocking. “Supervillains, here.”

“But we're not here to commit crimes.” Über's voice was the model of strained patience.

I tuned out the bickering and turned back to my armour. The gyro-stabilised workbench had allowed me to work on it while we were driving, but if the police officer wanted to look into the back of the van, he would see far more than I was happy for him to see.

The van jolted as the tyres crunched on to the gravel at the side of the road. I swivelled my seat to the side and pressed the button that lowered the bench to floor level. It seemed to take all too long to do so, and the whine of the servos was way too loud in my ears. But at least the armour was below window level now; unless the officer decided to take some excuse to search the van, he wouldn't see it. We were, for all intents and purposes, a group of three people on an innocuous drive through the backwoods of New York State.

Through the back window, I watched the cop get out of the car and adjust his belt before starting the walk forward. He was in his forties or fifties, clean-shaven, but more than a little overweight. As it was a cloudy day, the angle of the light was wrong to see what his partner was doing in the passenger seat, or even if he had a partner at all. If he doesn't have one, he'll be more cautious, less likely to push forward on a suspicion. He'll also be easier to disable if he sees something odd and makes trouble. I hoped that he wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Hurting cops who were just trying to do their jobs was not something I wanted to do.

“Taylor!” hissed L33t. “Goggles!”

With a start, I realised that I was still wearing my multi-mode goggles; this would definitely look unusual. Snatching them off, I dropped them on my lap just as the cop appeared at Über's window. Putting my glasses on in their stead, I pretended to text on my phone. It was what normal teenage girls did at a time like this, I figured. Not that I'd fitted the definition of 'normal' for quite some time, but at least I could play the part.

“Good morning, officer,” Über said smoothly. “Is there a problem?”

I had my light-spot on Über; as he spoke, I concentrated on the skill of deciphering body language. From what I could see of the officer's posture, this was no random traffic stop; he had an agenda in mind. Unseen by the cop, I let my right hand drop off my lap down to where my wireless taser hung next to the seat in a makeshift holster.

“Depends,” the cop replied in one of those I've-got-all-day drawls. “Whereabouts you folks headin' to?”

The tone of his voice gave me more clues. The traffic stop was deliberate, yes, but I couldn't pick out any hints of hostility. Whatever purpose he had pulled us over for, it was not to harm us. Slowly, my hand relaxed its grip on the butt of the taser.

Über must have come to the same conclusion. “We're just taking in the sights at the moment,” he said genially, “but we were thinking of stopping in Gloversville for a bite to eat and maybe a look around.”

The twitch wasn't much, but it was there. He knows who's in Gloversville. “That's fair,” he replied, and for a moment I expected a 'be out of town by sunset' style comment. In that, I was being unkind to him. “You headin' in to see the Toybox folk?”

A chill shot down my spine; despite his continued lack of hostility, my hand closed around the butt of the wireless taser again. I didn't think he'd just come out and ask us about it.

“Supposing we were,” Über replied cautiously. “Would there be a problem?”

“No, sir.” The officer's voice continued to be impersonally polite. “Them folks in at Toybox have been good neighbours, done a lot for Gloversville. We'd like to keep it that way. You're here to do business, go right ahead. Here to cause trouble, best if you turned around and headed away. Just sayin'.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Über said. “Not saying we are, of course, but … if we were going to see Toybox, what gave us away?”

A small smile quirked the corner of the police officer's mouth. “Been a lot more out-of-state plates comin' into Gloversville over the last few weeks. Kind of a giveaway.”

“Could be just tourists,” L33t put in.

“Could be,” agreed the cop readily enough. “But you ain't. Anyway, said my piece. You have a nice day now.” He tipped his hat and headed back to his car.

Über put the van into gear and started back on to the road. I peered out through the back window at the police car; as I watched, the flashing lights turned themselves off, and the officer pulled a U-turn to head back down the road. “He's going the other way,” I reported.

“Good,” grunted Über, then concentrated on getting the van up to speed.

L33t shook his head. “Anyone else think that was creepy as hell?”

“What I want to know,” Über said, “was how he knew we were going to see Toybox.”

“Well, it could have been a really good guess, like he kind of implied,” I ventured, though I didn't believe it myself.

Über and L33t both snorted at the same time; they knew me well enough by now that they could guess what I was thinking. L33t scratched his chin. “I'm thinking Tinkertech.”

“What do you mean?” asked Über.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Suppose they gave him some sort of detector that just picks up on the presence of other Tinkertech. Like my armour.” And, I didn't need to mention, the other bits and pieces of gear that L33t and I had stashed through the van.

“Huh.” Über nodded slowly. “That kind of makes sense. And what's the bet his partner was back in the car with something that's not standard police issue, just in case we caused problems?”

I didn't take the bet. Nor did L33t; instead, he changed the subject. “Talking about your armour, Hax, you've been doing a lot of fiddling with it. Everything all right? It took a real hammering during the fight with Lung.”

“It's working just fine,” I replied shortly. “In some ways, it's working better than ever.”

“But …?” he prompted.

I sighed. “But, like you said, it took a real hammering. It used Lung's power to fix itself.”

Über shook his head. “I still say that Manton field generator's total bullshit.”

“Says the guy who likes to pose with He-Man's sword,” I retorted, eliciting a snigger from L33t. “No, the problem is that it didn't put itself back together exactly the same way. It's more organic and efficient now; there's a slight but measurable improvement in performance.”

L33t, his face turned back toward me, frowned. “You're saying there's a problem. I'm not hearing one.”

“Well, like I said, it's not built the way I put it together it any more,” I explained. “Components aren't where they're supposed to be. Some of them do more than one thing now. Some of them I have to really study before I can figure out exactly what they do. It's going to be harder to maintain because of that. Not to mention that half the access panels have vanished, and the spare space I was leaving in for room to grow has been taken up as well.”

“Well, crap,” muttered Über. “That mean you can't use it any more?”

“It's not that bad yet,” I assured him. “But unless I rebuild it to account for extra height, I figure I'll outgrow it in a few months. Less, if I have a growth spurt.”

“What, you're gonna get taller?” L33t eyed me askance. “You're already as tall as me.”

I grinned at him. “You've never met my Dad.”

L33t shook his head. “Christ, he must be a beanpole.”

“Hey, watch it,” I chided him. “This is my Dad we're talking about here.” But behind the mock anger was relief at the tangent which the conversation had taken. The fight with Lung had had other side-effects, ones which frightened me considerably when I realised the implications.

Reflexively, I rubbed my wrist, then stopped when I realised what I was doing. I wasn't even sure why I hadn't shared this particular development with my partners, save that they probably couldn't do anything about it – well, maybe Über could, if I asked him – and right now, I didn't need them feeling any kind of doubt about my capabilities. I can handle it.

“Sorry, sorry,” L33t replied, but his return grin assured me that he knew I was joking. “If he's any where near as badass as you, I wouldn't want to mess with him anyway.”

“No,” I agreed. “You wouldn't.”

<><>

The next few miles passed without much in the way of incident. Über and L33t chatted idly back and forth; I threw in the odd comment, while digging deeper into the inner workings of my power armour. Nothing was showing signs of failure – one upside of the involuntary rebuilding was that all the components were in as-new condition – but I needed to know where everything was.

One thing I did learn was where the teleport disk had gotten to. Previously attached to the back of the armour, it had not been in evidence after the fight, despite the fact that I had teleported back to the van. At some point during the battle, probably while the armour was growing wings – which still amazed me – its component parts had been reapportioned to locations within the suit, all still connected, but no longer as vulnerable as it had been. However, they were also no longer as accessible.

The 'organic' rebuilding effort had affected these components as well, to the point that I didn't feel confident in pulling them out without hampering the smooth functioning of the suit. And if the teleporter stops working, it might just screw up the suit as a whole. Joy. The main reason that I was pulling down the suit was to see what else had been moved around.

<><>

I was maybe three-quarters of the way through this task when the van stopped. “We're here,” announced Über. I looked up, but once more there was only the view through the windshield or the rear windows to go by. From what little I could see, it looked like any small town in America.

Dropping the goggles in my bag and pulling a cover sheet over the armour, I put my glasses on and opened the side door of the van. The cool afternoon air nipped at my lungs as I climbed out on to the pavement. Stretching to get the kinks out of my back, I looked around.

It still looked like typical small-town America to me. There weren't even any mountains towering over the town to the north, once I figured out which way north actually was. For such a well-known mountain range, the Adirondacks were remarkably unassuming.

L33t was also looking around; from the expression on his face, he was just as underwhelmed as I was. Über joined us as I was sliding the side door shut again. I turned to him. “Sure we're in the right place?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure I'm sure. They're in the convention centre, just down this way.” He hefted the heavy duffel bag and set off down the street, striding confidently.

“This place has a convention centre?” muttered L33t. “There's nobody here to attend any conventions.” But he followed along anyway, as did I.

L33t had a point; Gloversville had the air of being not quite a ghost town. For all its size, there were all too few people on the street. Brockton Bay, even in the Docks area, had more life than this. While the street was well-maintained and the signage was freshly painted, more than a few of the storefronts were boarded up; some of them, apparently, had been that way for years.

“Fifteen thousand people,” Über announced, though neither L33t nor I had asked the question. “Eighty years ago, it was nearly double that. Ever since the glove trade started going downhill in the fifties, so did the city.”

“Wait, gloves?” L33t sounded faintly incredulous. “So the place was actually named after gloves? Not, you know, someone called Glover?”

“That's what my research says,” Über replied. He stopped and spread his hands. “What? I looked the place up. You could've done it too.”

I avoided his eyes. “I was making sure Alibi could handle being on her own for a day or more. I can't guarantee the control unit being in contact all the time.”

“So what happens if you lose contact?” asked L33t. “Does she collapse or go catatonic?”

“She shouldn't,” I told him. “I've got her programmed to go monosyllabic and avoid extended contact with anyone who's not Dad. Anything she can't make a judgement on, she'll record and shoot to me at her earliest opportunity.”

“What about you?” Über challenged L33t. “You could've done the research.”

“I was working on the security system for the van, duh.” L33t pointed at our transport. “Anyone who touches it once the system's on forgets what they were trying to do.”

“So does it work?” I asked.

He grinned. “You tell me. I asked you both to test it.”

I looked at Über. “I don't remember that. Do you?”

He blinked. “Not in the slightest.” A frown crossed his face. “That was damned irresponsible. What if we'd lost more memory?”

“Well, I tested it on myself first, duh,” L33t assured him. “But first I put up a sign in my workroom to remind myself of what I was doing. Which was a good thing. Otherwise I never would've remembered to install it in the van.”

“Is it just me, or is more of your stuff working better than normal?” asked Über. “Or is it just the stuff that Taylor's pulling to pieces for you?”

“No, it's everything,” L33t said. “I'm having less stuff malfunction, and I haven't lost my eyebrows since you joined the team, Taylor.”

“Huh, so that's why you keep me around,” I mused. “I'm your good luck charm. Now it all makes perfect sense.”

“If by 'good luck charm' you mean 'valued team member', sure,” Über agreed. “We've definitely never had it better.” He started off again. “And my belly thanks you, too.”

L33t and I followed. “Mind you, we're kind of not used to taking on people like Lung,” L33t noted. “But I suppose joining the big leagues means dealing with big league threats.”

“We haven't lost to anyone or been arrested since Taylor joined us, either,” mused Über. “I wonder if that's kind of a record?”

I was pretty sure that it was, but I didn't say anything, not wanting to hurt their feelings. “Well, you do know that I picked you guys for a reason,” I assured them.

They both turned to look at me. “I've wondered about that, but I've never quite been sure how to ask the question,” L33t said. “I mean, with your power? You could go anywhere. Write your own ticket.” He looked a little sheepish. “I didn't want to question it in case you changed your mind.”

“To be fair, you haven't volunteered much about it yourself,” Über added. “I basically figured that it was your business. Especially after we started doing so well.”

“Um.” I was kind of caught short, not quite sure what to say next. “Well, the Wards were out. Personal reasons.”

“Anything to do with why Shadow Stalker's retired and the PRT's tiptoeing around us?” asked L33t.

I gave him a look of respect. People liked to make fun of him – popular opinion had portrayed him as the loser of the pair before I joined – but he actually had a working brain. “Quite a lot,” I admitted. “If they'd maybe done that when I first … well, never mind. Water under the bridge. Anyway. I talked to New Wave but they just weren't for me. That didn't give me very many choices. I'm not Asian, I'm not racist and I don't do drugs. You had an internet presence, and I figured I could maybe make myself useful with your powers.”

They didn't quite burst out laughing on the spot, but Über turned right red with the effort of holding it in, while L33t suffered a spontaneous coughing fit. I patted him helpfully on the back; he leaned against a boarded-up shopfront until he was able to talk again.

“Holy shit,” he wheezed. “Make yourself useful?” He shook his head. “Talk about your understatements.”

“So why not the Undersiders?” asked Über practically. He was still somewhat red in the face, but he was managing to hold himself in control fairly well. “They've got a good spread of powers and you get along with them pretty well.”

I tilted my head. “If I'd heard about them, I might just have auditioned for a place on their team. Mind you, I didn't know about Coil then. Or how much of a dick Regent can be. Then again, I might have joined up with Faultline's Crew.”

“You're not about to ditch us now, are you?” L33t asked. He didn't sound as though he thought it might happen, but there was still an edge of apprehension there. “I mean, your reputation's up there with the best, after Lung. You could go anywhere. The Wards, whatever. They'd lay out the red carpet.”

I shook my head, grinning broadly. “Not a chance. You're stuck with me.”

L33t rolled his eyes. “Well, if you're gonna put it that way.” He looked over at Über. “Think we can afford to keep her on?”

Über frowned, appearing to think deeply. “Well, I dunno. She's bossy -”

“And pushy,” added L33t.

“And she makes us clean,” Über went on.

“And eat her cooking,” L33t pretended to complain. I looked from one to the other, a grin growing on my face.

“And she picks fights with honest to goodness horrifyingly scary villains.”

L33t nodded, then his grin matched mine. “And the way she uses her powers is totally bullshit hax.”

“Not to mention the tech she dreams up.” Über sighed. “It's a tough job, but someone needs to keep an eye on her. For the safety of the city, if nothing else.”

“And it might as well be us.” L33t shrugged and turned to me. “Okay, fine. It's settled. You're stuck with us, too.”

I could have hugged them both. “Wow, gee, guys,” I replied instead, in much the same tone of voice. “Reluctant much?”

Über ruffled my hair; I grinned again and ducked. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go see what Toybox has to offer.”

<><>

Jin stepped in through the door to what Lung called his office. “You called for me, sir?”

“I did.” Lung tapped the folder on his desk. “Why didn't you tell me about this?”

“About what, sir?” Jin tried not to swallow nervously. What did I miss?

“The interview with the Hebert girl. There's a distinct suggestion that she knows where that group has their base. She may even know details about Hax and her cohorts.” He bared his teeth. “I need to know those details.”

Jin took a deep breath. “So you want to … acquire Taylor Hebert, and question her for what she knows.” It wasn't quite a question.

“That is precisely what I want.”

“And if Hax decides to interfere?”

Lung stood; the heat waves began to shimmer off of his skin once more. “Let her. We will be ready.”

Personally, Jin had his doubts. To air them, however, would be to court a horrible death. “Yes, sir. I'll get it set up.”

On Lung's desk, the folder curled up a little and began to smoulder. “Good.”

<><>

“Okay, at the lower end of the scale, we've got what I call the 'storage chest'.” Dodge held up a remote and clicked a button. The paperback-sized device on the table hummed slightly; LEDs on its surface flickered in an arcane pattern. An opaque shimmering square faded into being in the air over the table, roughly two feet across. He reached into it, his hand and then half his arm disappearing into thin air, before he pulled out a battered-looking stuffed rabbit. “It can hold up to eight cubic feet of material. So long as the projector's got power running through it, it will keep your valuables utterly safe. Without the remote or an idea of where the entry point is, no thief in the world can get into it.” Tossing the rabbit back into the shimmering space, he pressed another button. The portal vanished, as if it had never been. “Questions?”

“You said 'lower end',” a man in a three-piece suit said. “How big can your pocket dimensions get?” Behind him, an absurdly muscled man in a cheaper – but much more generously cut – suit scowled as he eyed me and the boys. I hadn't needed to put my light-spot on to him to pick him out as a parahuman, one with a serious Brute rating, but I did anyway. He also had a Striker ability, not Manton limited; if he was touching something – or someone – he could weaken its structural integrity. I didn't leave the spot on him for long; just standing there, I could feel my biceps enlarging.

“The upper limit isn't so much how big I can make it, but how much power the projector is able to draw on to maintain the storage space, as well as the extra power to open a portal into it,” Dodge replied. He was younger than me by maybe three or four years, but talking about his work, he was all business. “Also, if you want access to electricity inside the storage space, there's an induction device that you have to purchase separately. This also draws power from the projector.”

Another business-suited man, not aligned with the first one if I was any judge, frowned. “What kind of energy draw are we talking about?” His parahuman bodyguard – this one had Blaster powers, along with a short-range teleport – traded glares with the Brute. I figured that the Brute could probably take him, if he could close and get in a solid hit fast enough, but I hoped that neither one would decide to try conclusions, at least while we were there.

“It all depends on the optional extras you decide on,” Dodge replied. “But a good rule of thumb would be the power budget for an equivalent-sized building. Lighting and air conditioning and such. The cost for opening a portal would depend on the relative size of the portal to the storage space. As for storage space sizes, I could literally make them any size, but for the sake of convenience, I build my projectors to scale them up by factors of ten. Eight cubic feet, eighty, eight hundred, and so on.”

I tuned out the sales pitch as I looked around. The more I observed the way Toybox had set itself up in the convention centre, the more it looked like a particularly bizarre trade show. The floor was divided into areas, in each of which a different Tinker demonstrated his – or her – devices for prospective customers. And such fascinating devices they were, too.

I had no doubt that we were not the only criminals attending. Fortunately, it would be hard to turn most of these devices to harmful use. The obvious exceptions – Pyrotechnical's work, for instance – were specifically designed as weapons, but even then they were mostly designed to be non-lethal. Toybox, I was sure, would not last long if people went on killing sprees with their work.

I was equally sure that everyone here was disguised in some way or another. Über and L33t had domino masks on, while I wore my multi-mode goggles. I would much rather have been wearing the power armour, but just as nobody here was admitting their real identity, any parahuman criminals were out of costume for the moment. Officially, Pwnage wasn't here; nor was anyone else.

We had circulated through the centre before stopping at Dodge's table; Über and L33t had window-shopped the Tinkertech on show, while I window-shopped the powers of their creators. It was a fascinating experience; each time I tapped the powers of a different Tinker, the world unfolded to me in a different way. With Glace, I could see all the possibilities inherent in ice and cold; whereas to Bauble, everything revolved around the beauty of glasswork.

L33t stepped forward. “What happens to the stuff inside if the projector loses power?”

Dodge paused and looked at him directly. “It's gone.”

“What do you mean, 'gone'?” asked the first man.

“I mean, 'gone',” Dodge repeated patiently. “Crushed into a one-dimensional point, maybe. But nothing I've ever left in a storage space has still been there if I turned off the power and then turned it back on. However, for extra cost, it comes with a backup power source. You're welcome to take whatever precautions yourself as well, of course.”

The people around me shuddered, although I had my doubts about being 'crushed into a one-dimensional point'. With my computer experience, I knew that 'erasing' information from a hard drive didn't actually erase it; it just deleted the information needed to locate the data on the drive. If he opens up a new pocket dimension each time he turns it on, the old one is still possibly floating around in limbo somewhere.

With the light-spot on him, my understanding of the physics involved didn't seem to refute my hypothesis. In fact … I wonder how much work it would be to retune any one remote to access someone else's so-called secure space? Not much at all, his powers informed me; it would be a hit and miss affair until I perfected the pocket dimension detector, which was already starting to assemble itself in my head. Wow, so many options. I wonder how many of them he's explored?

“So what happens if you have to relocate your base of operations?” asked the second guy. “Your portal is stuck back at the old place.”

Dodge smiled slightly. “Not so much. These aren't alternate universes like Earth Aleph, that are location-locked to our world. These are totally separate. The portal's only fixed at the storage space end.” He paused. “Cheaper options do make for a single fixed portal on this end. Pay more for it and I can set it up for an adjustable external portal location. Top dollar gets you a remote that lets you adjust the external portal location on the fly, from within the storage space.”

I had already picked up on this capability, so I wasn't overly surprised. “Wait, hold on a second,” Über objected. “So you can use this thing to step from, say, New York to Miami to LA, even if the projector's in Chicago?”

Dodge nodded. “That's correct.” Around me, people started paying more attention as this idea sank in. A totally secure storage space, albeit one that would disappear all your belongings if it lost power, was one thing but the idea of using it for instantaneous transport across the country was quite another. “Of course,” he continued, “as I said, this option costs top dollar. And you have to calculate the exact position for the other end of the portal yourself; there's no guarantee that the location is safe to exit from.”

Which made a certain amount of sense. Even with modern GPS, it was still not uncommon to have an error of dozens, even hundreds, of feet. Opening a portal underground or fifty feet in the air could also be problematic. Worse, if it was placed under water, the problems would get very real, very fast.

Of course, given that I always knew exactly where Alibi was, and I could see through her eyes when I felt like it, this was less of a problem for me, if I wanted to go to where she was.

I paused, thinking about that. Except that once I'm in a pocket dimension, I'm pretty sure that her signal to me would be cut. So there's no way to calculate the outgoing portal location. Unless I do it before I go into the storage space.

Of course, I reminded myself, it's not really going to be an issue.

<><>

“She is on the bus?”

Jin nodded. “We have people on there with her. They've verified it.”

“Good. Go.”

As the vehicle jolted into motion, Jin felt that he should make one more attempt. “May I ask a question, respectfully?”

Lung glanced at him. “You may.”

Jin took a deep breath. “I am not saying that this will not work or that it is unwise, but … might there not be ways of doing this that will achieve the goal more efficiently? The authorities will look very sternly on us for endangering so many children.” If this goes wrong in any way at all, we are so screwed. But if I defy him, I am very definitely dead. There is no way out.

To his surprise, Lung answered his question. “If we did it in the school, she has places to hide, even to escape. The students know the school; even with all of our people searching, she might have gotten away.”

“Very wise,” Jin agreed. “But then … what about her home?”

Lung shook his head. “To follow the bus all the way to her home would alert the driver. Once she gets off the bus, she is on foot, in familiar territory. I will not risk losing her. No, the bus is the best option.”

There was logic there, but Jin only knew one inescapable fact. No matter what I do, I am screwed.

<><>

Alibi sat on the bus, reading a book. The puppet body wasn't getting the best signal from the controller, so she was falling back on behaviour intended to ensure that nobody attempted to interact with her. It was working; around her, other students engaged in social interaction, but nobody spoke to her.

As the bus slowed for a red light, four-wheel drive vehicles pulled up on either side of it. The bus stopped, as did the four-wheel drives. In the next moment, shots sounded; the bus lurched as the tyres were shredded by gunfire. Another burst came from behind the bus; the engine died.

This was unusual enough for Alibi to look up from her book. Pretending to cower away from the windows along with everyone else, she recorded every detail of the scene. Her onboard processor decided that this was an emergency situation; it boosted the power of the return link with the controller, sending a signal that all was not right.

My full awareness flooded into Alibi; she played me back the last few seconds of action. My eyes opened wide, as did Alibi's. Oh, shit. What's going on?

A tall man in a familiar metal mask, with equally familiar tattoos adorning his body, rapped on the folding door. The bus driver gulped, looked at the men with guns, and pulled the lever. He shrank back in his seat as the tattooed man mounted the steps and looked down the length of the bus.

“Children!” boomed the intruder in a strong accent. “I am Lung! I will not harm you! Give me Taylor Hebert and I will leave!”

Oh, crap. Not again. 

Part 26