෴Raz෴

෴Midnight෴

෴Hex෴

෴Brock෴

෴Nicolette Stilt-Ivaldison෴

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

We Don’t Have Time for this!

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

His expression twisted into a savage grin, Raz looked at his opponent with enraged glee. White Fire snapped and popped around his clenched fist, the harsh light throwing eerie moving shadows against the walls.

A shift in the energy of the room caught his attention. Only glancing around at the shocked expressions on the rest of the people there made him realize how quickly he’d moved into aggression, and how that must look. The Ivaldison couple were on their feet, backing away slowly. Hex looked bereft, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked at him as though she didn’t recognize him.

He belatedly realized he probably looked more threatening than intended, and that this wasn’t the time or place for a fight. Suddenly, it hit him that to them, it was as if he’d jumped to his feet and pulled a weapon in the middle of a discussion.

Seeing the hurt, forlorn expression on Sia’s face was almost too much to bear. In a thin slice of time, a war was waged inside him. The seductive rage inside him surged! It promised that he wouldn’t have to feel hurt, wouldn't have to think about her being disappointed. No pesky feelings, no worries, no doubts, just pure, clean, fury. As the lure of anger carried him toward his decision, other images rose against it.

Unwanted images of loss flooded him. The recollection of Nona’s body jerking forward, the blood running down her neck. The dream of Sia, collapsed to one aspect, and crushed against the shield barrier. The look on her face right then, and the sudden raw, agonizing realization that death wasn’t the only way he could lose her.

No!

He struggled to control the sudden flare of anger. For a moment, he couldn’t tell if it was working. In the compressed slow time, he fought against his own impulses, and slowly mastered himself.

Then came the battle to get White Fire under control. The seething energy seemed to have wants, desires, a drive of its own. The roiling sea of devastating energy wanted nothing more than to annihilate his foes. As his anger grew, it became less picky about what constituted a foe.

Finally, after what felt like far too long, though it had all taken place between heartbeats, he wrestled White Fire’s gate closed, and felt the residual energy fall out of him into the ground. Suddenly aware of how silly his dramatic pose might look, he awkwardly sat back down.

He looked at the others. “In further interest of full disclosure, I guess I should mention that I’m dealing with some anger issues right now.”

[Well, that’s something of an understatement.]

I really don’t think spelling out the details would help my cause right now.

He turned his focus away from his inner dialog and back to Midnight. “Seriously though, I have no idea. You act like I should know things, but insist on playing everything close to the vest. You’ve tossed out words and phrases I don’t know from time to time, but I’m missing any sense of connection to understand it all.” Raz finished, before grabbing another bite of cold sausage.

Midnight nodded with a surprising air of sympathy. “I’ve seen mood swings and other changes like that from other people with new abilities before. A lot of abilities come with minor personality changes. Usually they’re temporary. At least, I’ve never seen someone survive very long if they didn’t get it under control. I hope you can do it. As for secrets, you’re right. It’s past time to tell you what I know.”

After hearing Midnight out, Raz took a deep breath, let it out, then strode toward the door. At the first door into the mantrap, he stopped and looked back at Midnight. “I’ll hold you to that. In a bit, once I’ve got my head on right,” he looked to Brock, “Hey Brock, thanks for breakfast and the outfit. I need some time to cool off. I’m going to head outside for a while to clear my head.” He called over his shoulder without waiting for an answer as he stepped outside.

Outside he took in the red rocky vista surrounding Brock’s isolated home. With a boxcutter in one pocket, and a handful of solid catalyst pebbles in the other, he started to experiment. Only after walking around the inside of the perimeter a few times did he realize what was unusual.

This ground is pretty rough. Sharp rocks, thorns. It should feel pretty uncomfortable on my bare feet, but instead it's like walking on a nice beach. I know that extra 100% Durability isn't much in the big picture, but I’ll take it.

[You might as well enjoy the small things.]

Hey, I’m not going to lose the ability to feel things am I?

[You specified that you didn’t want to risk abilities that cause you to lose touch with your humanity. I took that literally. As we’ve discussed, this is a General ability package that includes a balanced approach to physical enhancement. You also don’t have any form of integral force fields, per your requirements, so your risk is as low as it can be.]

[Reminder: You were going to deal with the chip when you had the confluence of time, capability, and opportunity to do so. I believe that time has arrived.]

Yep, I’ll get to that in a bit, thanks for the reminder.

Taking up a position near the edge of Brock’s perimeter, he got to work. Quantum Blade didn’t do anything he could determine. Bee insisted that it had both a passive effect, and an active effect that would make all his White Fire abilities able to do something, and would somehow make White Fire able to overcome certain kinds of barriers, but exactly what, remained unclear. The best Bee could tell him was that the active effect would kick in when it was needed.

He started his experimentation in familiar territory, opening his Electrosense and channeling White Fire into first a simple looped arc, then more and more complex shapes, guided into discrete paths by a combination of Ground Control and Friendly Fire.

I wonder if I could make functional circuits with this?

[They would be exceedingly high powered, simple circuits, but it might be possible. However, to do anything complex—]

Yeah yeah, I know. I’m sure I’d need Enhanced Cognition. Thanks, but I’m trying to avoid thoughts that make me angry.

Ionized Path allowed him to send torrents of White Fire wherever he wanted, although he couldn't be sure what was actually so different about it than Ground Control. He noticed that sometimes the blazing bolts of energy seemed to hit the target directly from him, and other times the lightning struck down from the sky.

There’s more to this, I know it. I suspect there’s some way to control this that I’m not seeing yet.

His first few attempts at using Spark Gap made him glad no one was watching. Then he remembered all the cameras and screens inside.

Well, at least I can pretend and hope no one’s watching. Or maybe that they think standing here doing nothing is what I’m trying to do.

A few more failures to launch and he abruptly sat down on a rock to think.

What’s the problem? Apparently I could do this in a mindless rage, but not when I want to?

[Perhaps this is the wrong approach.]

Wrong approach? Wrong approach?! So I’m wrong? Listen here, you little vo—Yeah. That’s not going to help. What do you think I should do differently?

[I suspect it has to do with the intensity of desire. The Berzerk state seems to be a version of you that is all id, your most base desires exposed. That version of you does what it wants, because that is what it wants to do.]

Raz felt his ire mounting and didn't manage to suppress it.

More fortune cookie speak and logical circles. Just what I need. So you’re saying I don’t want it bad enough? I’ll tell you what I want! I want this damn power to work! Why can’t any of these abilities just work like I think they should?!

[You’re certainly passionate enough, if that were the key. Perhaps the solution is reason.]

Oh great, so now you’re going to lecture me on being unreasonable!?

[No, but have you considered why you want to be at these arbitrary locations? What is your reason for wanting to be there?]

You think I don’t even have a reason?

Raz pointed at the rock ridge he and Hex had surveyed the area from. He could see the standing rock formation balanced on a small single stone.

See that rock over there? Yeah, the one where I found the sensor. I want to be there, and I want to be there NOW!

[But why do you want to be there?]

To look at the damn sensor, why else!?

Blinding light consumed him. In a fraction of time far too small to note, he flashed from one point to another as a jagged blade of light.

The sudden activation shocked him so much he managed to forget his anger.

So it only works if I have a valid reason for using it?

[Who knows if it requires a valid reason. Having an articulated reason may simply be required as a safety measure.]

Good point. Let’s see if I can do it again and get back once I look at this sensor.

He removed the cover and examined the multifunction sensor he’d looked at on the way to Brock’s workshop the first time.

Yep, someone definitely looking for someone, or something, out here. If it’s here for Brock, he might be in trouble already.

He spared a glance at the standing rock formation, thinking of the single stone supporting the vast rock structure, before looking at Brock’s workshop, and deciding he wanted to be there, and giving himself a reason.

A bright flash of light traveling over 6500 kilometers per second carried him to the spot he’d chosen.

“Ok, that’s pretty cool,” he said aloud, as he noticed his greatly decreased energy gauge.

That Spark Gap takes a lot more energy than most abilities! I wouldn't be able to do that more than twice in a row before I'd be low on energy. Good thing I can regenerate it pretty fast.

Several signals from a few hundred yards out in a rough semicircle around told him the Subterradente were around.

Subterradente is way too clinical a name. I think I prefer land sharks. My arrival got them all riled up. I have a feeling this Spark Gap isn’t at all subtle as ways to travel go. Loud and flashy more like. Oh well, it’s still cool.

Deciding to wait and see if they’d venture closer, he sat down on one of the flat topped rocks just inside Brock’s perimeter. As he watched the land sharks move around under ground outside the perimeter, he idly ran his hand along the smooth outside of the supple storm gray armor suit.

You know what would look pretty badass with this? A big pair of armored gauntlets and those vambraces with the back plate. Maybe some chunky boots like Brock wears.

Thoughts of his gloves led to thoughts of his time in Africa. He hoped the people he’d been able to help were still faring well.

Bee, long term project. If we consider places like this Central Australian desert.

He looked around at the harsh Australian desert landscape, made bearable only by it being late winter in the Southern Hemisphere.

Yeah, places like this, and the Saharan region. What abilities exist that would help people survive, and live, better there? So many ability trees seem to be all about combat and war. There have to be some that would help civilization thrive.

[I get your intent. I want to warn you this might take a while. There are many many trees, and I will have to use the notes to find trees with abilities that might help. Catalyst abilities all center around combat and war. After all, even the so-called support and utility trees always seem to have combat applications.]

I figured. So let's just start with the basics. Straight up Maslow. Any abilities that help provide food, water, and shelter. Ingrid could have made houses out of glas—I still need to ask Sia about glass houses. But Ingrid could have made houses of glass. Midnight can make all kinds of things out of metals. I definitely need to get an analysis of his abilities. For now, let’s look at hers.

Display Ingrid’s ability analysis.

[Decoding: This information will be available shortly.]

The low familiar hum took up residence in the back of his head. This time he found it grated on his nerves.

I feel like I should be irritated that you haven’t already decoded it. Let’s stay focussed on the hierarchy of needs. But yeah, some way to help food production, and water availability. Maybe some ability that makes mass water desalination possible and easy.

[Decoding complete.]

[[[Ingrid Lochee:

Unlocked Trees: Deceiver, Lithokinesis, Technopathy

Deceiver: Classed as a trickery or misdirection ability tree. She has two poorly supported abilities in this tree.

Attention Attenuation: an active ability that renders her difficult to notice while in use.

Entice: a passive ability that greatly increases personal attractiveness and charisma, specifically with regards to those the user is attracted to. Effectively a sort of Inversion of Attention Attenuation.

Lithokinesis: Classed as a utility ability tree. She has one unsupported ability in this tree.

Mineral Manipulation 2: an active ability that allows the user to manipulate and shape nonmetallic minerals. Being unsupported, her ability is limited to silicon based minerals.

Technopathy: The ability to mentally and or physically interact with technology. She has one unsupported ability in this tree.

Solid State: The ability to sense and manipulate solid state silicon chips and devices.

As a side note, having seen this with our own abilities, it would not be surprising to discover a causal link between her ability to manipulate silicon, and this unsupported Technopathy ability.]]]

Oh lovely. She’s literally got an ability tree for lies and deception? That second one explains why she manages to be so damn appealing even when her personality is like an angry rattlesnake.

“It’s just so damn hard to know how to think of her. Is she an ally, or an enemy, or just a betrayer by nature?” He wondered aloud, thinking of the way she’d helped him beat the chip.

Speaking of the chip, let’s have another look at it. Keep an eye out yeah?

[I’ll stay alert for threats out here.]

With a little effort, he sent his awareness inward. The active chip welcomed him, recognizing its owner. This time, he appeared among the vast plain of flowing signals and code, with Bee arriving a few subjective seconds later. Bee had chosen to look just like him, but dressed in casual clothing, rather than the one piece dark gray armor he was wearing.

“Can you dig through this code and make sure all the kill sequences and anything that even remotely looks like a backdoor is removed?” He thought about it for a moment. “In fact, just disable anything that allows for remote access period. I want the only access to this chip to be local.

Bee nodded. “We’ve already done that once, but I'll check again. Compared to working with Catalyst code, machine code is pretty simple.”

Raz started to back away from the chip, ready to work on the biological side of the equation. “You’re still keeping watch, right?”

Bee nodded solemnly. “I am, although it has been less than a second in real time.”

“Good deal. That monster Braithwaite let slip something about the chip being originally meant to enhance abilities. See if you can figure out what they were meant to do, or how they would work.”

Bee waved him off, “I’m on it.” He leaned forward into the structure of the chip and was immersed in flowing symbols of running code and signals.

Raz pulled himself out of the chip, and examined the structure of the chip itself with Diagnose 2. He found a series of fine filaments had grown out of it.

They go all the way up and down my spine and into my brain. They look like they’re growing alongside existing nerves. I’m not sure what to think of that.

He looked closer, closer, and eventually had to admit that the filaments didn’t appear to be doing anything harmful.

Clearly something I’ll have to keep an eye on. Not sure what else I can do.

A moment later, he was next to Bee in the mindspace around the chip. “Any luck?” he called out to his doppelganger in street clothes.

Bee gave him a thumbs up and disengaged from the vortex of pulsing symbols and light.

“Yes, quite a bit. I found the manual!” Bee held up a small object that pulsed with pale blue and orange light.

Raz smiled. “Good news at last eh? So now we can read it and see what’s up.”

Bee nodded. “Way ahead of you. Once I found the disabled documentation function, I looked over the code. Inside that function is an entire user and administrative manual for these implants.”

“What’s it say!?” Raz demanded impatiently.

“Short version, the chip is going to slowly harvest excess materials in your body and grow a second, redundant nervous system. The first part of that system is a connection to your brain and spinal cord, to allow us to use the chip more directly, without having to enter this mindspace. It will also let me access the manual and chip settings more directly. When the redundant nervous system is complete, it will move on to making some improvements on your musculoskeletal system.“

Raz frowned, looking over at the glowing symbols flashing by. “Is that safe? I don’t want to find out the hard way it can somehow cripple me, or have a bad interaction with Might, or White Fire.”

Bee nodded pensively. “If you’re looking for solid answers or assurances, look somewhere else. I don’t have any sure answers. The first stage should be safe. Good thing too, since it’s nearly complete.”

Raz rubbed at the back of his neck, all too aware that he was a figment of his own imagination, rubbing at an imaginary body. “Can we make it stop or pause after that stage? I’d like to have a chance to see if there are any problems before it takes over my body. Bad enough it's already in my central nervous system.”

Bee nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Something about Bee’s earnest agreement reminded him of the chat he’d had with Fidel on the second night in the refugee camp.

*** *** ***

After a long day of physical training and sparring, followed by an afternoon of healing all manner of illness and injury, only taking a few breaks to top off his Catalyst reserves from the nearly empty small metal flask, Raz felt a sort of bone weary tiredness that seemed to reach far beyond his body, or the energy that powered his abilities.

This aching fatigue was something he felt deep in his soul, as though he’d been consuming some internal personal resource to heal so many sick and injured people, and only truly felt the cost when he finally ran dry.

The application of Somatic Restoration wasn’t the problem. The ability chugged along all day, and with Bee’s help, staying topped up on energy was a literal no brainer. Rather than any ability related struggle, he’d found the healing more and more stressful, and mentally difficult, as the day went on. The intense focus and seemingly never ending line of people with illness or injury had begun to wear on his composure. By early afternoon, the feeling of futility and hopelessness threatened to envelope him. His enhanced senses made everything worse. He was painfully aware that no matter what he did here today, these people had far more problems than he could solve.

When the last patient walked out, he’d sagged into a chair and simply sat still, hunched over with his head hung low for several minutes. The doctor on duty sat down next to him. She was telling him how amazing it must be to be able to do so much, but in the moment, he could barely stand to listen to anyone talking to him. The knowledge that he still had so much to do that night weighed heavily on his mind.

Eventually, she left. Free of social obligation, he dragged himself to his feet and made his way toward the newborn child and her mother. He needed no directions. The baby was more than halfway across the sprawling camp. Even at this range, the child was a shining beacon brighter than the late afternoon sun. Right then, he could no more lose track of that baby than a part of his own body.

As he walked through the camp, he absently returned the endless flood of greetings, thanks, and well wishes he received from nearly everyone he passed. He felt bad when he caught himself trying to avoid being seen, the cheerful greetings and thanks becoming too much to deal with. His keen senses didn’t even allow him to ignore just how many couples in the tents he passed were having sex. To him, it felt like being the celibate man walking through an orgy. As far as his nose was concerned, the whole camp smelled of lust and ardour.

I know they just want to thank me. They all want or need something. Even if they just feel the need to say thanks. I just can’t take any more of that right now.

When he reached the newborn area, he looked out of a loose circular area with women holding or caring for their newborn children. Then one of them spotted him. An all too brief hush fell over the group, followed by a general clamoring for his attention. Several children were pressed into his arms. For each one, he dug deep, and somehow found the strength to do a little more healing. When every child and mother that had approached him was as healthy as he could make them, he sat down on the ground and leaned against a half-full water storage container with his eyes closed.

I don’t even know why I came. There’s so much need in the world. I’m just one person. There’s only so much I can do. But there’s so much that needs to be done! I need to do more somehow. As long as I’m looking over my shoulder, I’ll never be able to make as much of a difference as I want. I need to do something about these people that want me. For that, I’ll need a plan, and to make the plan, I need Fidel.

With his eyes closed against the ocean of human need and scarcity around him, he felt the child moving toward him. When she came to a stop 2.17 meters away, he forced his eyes open. The baby’s young mother sat in front of him, holding the newborn in her arms.

The mother introduced herself in broken English. After a moment of more thanks, she sat down beside him, then held the child out for him to hold. He unbuttoned his shirt, and laid the tiny baby against his chest. With one hand on her back, he used his other hand to pop the top off his nearly empty small flask of Catalyst. With slow, deliberate motions, he applied a small dollop of the thick liquid to his chest, right next to the child, and rubbed it in until it vanished.

When his Catalyst reserve was full again, he got to work. When he’d finished checking on the child’s progress, he took the young mother’s hand in his. A few seconds later he’d cleared up a minor hand injury, and purged a mild infection that had been trying to get a foothold in her cesarean suture line.

When the child grew hungry again, he placed her in her mother’s arms and rose to leave. Looking back at the crowd of mothers and babies, he managed to set out toward the maintenance tent with a lighter step than he’d arrived with.

He noticed that even the unending stream of attention and thanks felt somehow a little more bearable. The smell of present and recent human mating still colored the air. On a certain level, he was amazed that no one seemed to notice. He considered if he needed to add it to the list of smells for Bee to reduce down to datapoints, along with the smell of human waste, body odor, and decay.

As he neared the maintenance tent, he caught sight of Fidel walking toward their tent, Raz jogged up to him and fell in stride with the sturdy Russian.

“Fidel, I need to talk to you.”

Something about his tone must have conveyed the serious nature of his thoughts. Fidel just nodded. “Dah. Need talk to you too.”

They reached the tent Dr. Patel had assigned them and went in. Inside, they each took a seat in a pair of old wooden folding chairs across a weathered card table.

The Russian looked him over critically, then shook his head with a solemn expression. “You look...” the big man paused, and tugged at his short beard, “worn out.”

With a nod and a wave of his hand, Raz acknowledged Fidel’s observation, and waved it off. “Yeah, I am. But that’s not what we need to talk about.”

Raz paused to see if Fidel wanted to go first, then started when it became clear that Fidel was waiting for him.

“I need to know about the people you used to work for.”

Fidel nodded. “Dah, know more than they think, less than want to. I tell you what I know.”

For the next hour, Fidel explained everything he knew about Martine’s organization. A picture emerged, that of a man at the head of a private company with incredible financial and technological resources, bent on banning and criminalizing the use of Catalyst, while profiting from it along the way. Fidel didn’t know why Reginald Martine wanted Catalyst users rounded up and put in camps. Raz didn’t care, he just knew that someone like this was the enemy.

“You see,” Fidel continued, “Braithwaite just functionary. He… middle manager. The tip of very long spear. He want make discovery, get promoted, run whole division.”

Raz tried to ignore the similarities between Braithwaite’s motives and the career advancement reasons he originally went in for Catalyst testing in the first place.

That sicko gets off on torture. We’re nothing alike.

Raz glanced in the direction of the parked JLTV, then looked at the keys next to his cot. “I’m worried. I’d love to be wrong, but there’s no way the US military doesn’t have a way to keep track of their vehicles. You know what I mean?”

Fidel followed his gaze to the keys and nodded. “Dah. If has tracking system. We need new vehicle soon!”

Raz shrugged, trying to hide his concern. “Like I said. I’d love to be wrong. But I already looked into getting another vehicle. The MSF trucks have built in trackers, so even if they’d lend us one, we’d just be putting them in harm's way.”

More harm’s way than I already am just by being here.

He continued without pause. “There are a few personal vehicles, but those are also a no go. I’m not going to steal one, and aside from the MSF trucks, I haven't seen any here that seem reliable enough that I’d trust my life in the desert to them.”

He paused and looked out the tent door flaps at the setting sun. “The thing is, I don’t want to keep running. A life on the run isn’t worth living, as far as I’m concerned. I want to deal with this problem once and for all.”

Fidel nodded. “Is old Russian saying. ‘To chop head off snake, one must step within it’s striking range’ how you plan this?”

Raz chuckled. “Well, first off, those old Russians should learn about long handled tools. I’ve had to deal with a few copperheads and cottonmouth snakes in my life. A spade with a long handle, and a sharp edge handles them quite nicely,” he watched the last slivers of sun slip beneath the horizon. “As for getting close. I was planning on surrendering. You know, ‘take me to your leader’ and all that.”

Fidel shook his head. “Nyet! In Russia we have saying. ‘Beware easy victory, easy victory is path to defeat.’ Surrender not work. He not believe you.”

Raz sat back in his chair. “Well, ok. What if I didn’t surrender? What if I fought, and lost? If I give them just enough fight to sell it, do you think they’d buy that?”

Fidel leaned back in his chair and looked over at the fading light on the horizon. A moment later he looked at Raz and shrugged. “Maybe. You no Yul Brenner, no Konstantin Khabensky, but maybe fool them. What you want me do?”

“Stay out of sight. I’ve written some instructions for you. Don’t be offended, but I don’t want you to know what they are, until you need to.”

Fidel grunted agreement. “No offend. Is simple mission security. When I know?”

Raz leaned in, his voice low. “If something happens. I’ve arranged it. I hope nothing does, but if something does happen, someone will give you a note with some contingency instructions. I’d appreciate it if you follow them.”

Fidel nodded earnestly. “Dah. I will. Sure you want do this? Sound risky.”

Raz chuckled, the sound dark and pessimistic. “Nope, not even close. I’ve looked at the maps they have here. If there was anywhere close we could make it to, and be safe, I’d do that instead. There aren’t over a million people in this camp for no reason. One way or another, it’s dangerous in every direction,” he looked Fidel in the eye, “at least with the evil I know, I have the comfort of knowing they want me alive.”

Fidel shook his head slowly. “That should not be comfort.”

Raz nodded, then pulled out a clean sheet of paper and began to write.

Fidel watched him for a moment, then lay on his cot. “For me?”

“No, this one is for someone else.” Raz replied without looking up from his work.

*** *** ***

He shook off the memories and found himself back in the mindspace next to Bee.

“You all good here?” He asked.

Bee nodded. “Yeah, just getting a handle on all this. You do what you need to do.”

An instant later, Raz’s awareness was back in the real world. He got to his feet and clenched his fists. His body buzzed, humming with energy and eager for a fight. He approached the raised steel lip that marked the edge of Brock’s defenses. With Electrosense and Biosense active, Raz opened the gate to White Fire, and stepped over the steel bar.

Ground Pound.

Several energetic ground pounds later, three landsharks were closing in. With two senses outlining them clearly, he’d already marked each one with Ground Control and Ionized Path.

Come on, come on up you ugly meat torpedos. Got a little surprise for you.

One of them positioned itself directly under him, and started tunneling upward. He wasn’t sure how they coordinated, but the other two arranged themselves in a way to come at him from opposite sides. At the last second before the one coming up at him broke through the ground, Raz flashed a few dozen feet away with Spark Gap. The land shark burst from the ground, then stopped, seeming confused to have snapped it’s jaws shut and found air instead of the flesh of its prey.

A crackling blast of energy ended its confusion and life. The second one was somewhat more cautious, but habit or instinct carried it out of the ground in a similar lunging attack as the one he’d narrowly escaped before. Ever cognizant of the risk of being flanked, Raz sent blazing energy into the second one, killing it quicker than the first.

The third land shark turned tail and retreated. Here Raz found a weakness of White Fire that even Ionized Path and Ground control couldn’t surmount. No matter how much energy he blasted at the third target, the mass of earth between him and his target instantly swallowed the energy up. His electrosense showed the ground building up a residual charge, but it was nowhere near fast enough to affect the fleeing subterradente. His Biosense told him his outpouring of energy had completely sterilized the soil in a rough circular pattern. When he realized that, he stopped and just accepted that this one would get away.

So, clearly Quantum Blade isn’t about penetrating this sort of barrier. Is there really nothing that just says what it actually does? I was able to overwhelm the ground in that tower, so it’s probably possible. I bet it just takes a long time, and quite a lot of energy to pump so much power into the ground it takes out subterranean threats.

[The notes imply that it has a powerful, situational use, having to do with defeating some methods of blocking or shielding against attacks.]

He approached the first dead land shark and squatted down next to it. “Ok then, let’s see what a 400% strength increase really means.”

It turned out that even being four times as strong was barely enough to slowly drag and roll the vast carcass along the ground, then laboriously lift and roll it over the raised steel lip. The second one was slightly easier, having learned where he could best grab and lift the long torpedo shaped carcasses.

A few minutes later, he wiped the sweat off his brow and headed back in.

“Hey Brock, I got you some more meat. Where do I load it in?”

The short smith waved away the question. “I saw. I have tasked a robot vith loading the animals into the machine.”

Raz grabbed a glass of water and downed it before answering. “Nice, that sausage was pretty great, looking forward to more.”

Midnight and Nicolette were deep in discussion. Hex was nowhere to be seen. Brock pointed toward the door to the guest rooms when he spotted Raz looking around.

Back in the bedroom he’d woken up in, he found Hex sitting alone, her expression hard to read.

“Do you want to talk?” He asked.

She shook her head. When he started to walk away, she reached out and grabbed his hand. “I need a few minutes, then we can talk.” she whispered.

He nodded, “Ok, I’ll grab a shower then.”

After stripping off the dark gray suit, Raz hopped in the shower and rinsed the sweat, dirt, and land shark smell off his skin. While he showered, he debated whether or not to use his enhanced senses in the following conversation.

I’m not sure what the problem is, and having all that other stuff muddying that water might just make things worse. Can we maintain sensory vigilance, while letting her retain her privacy?

[It’s done.]

A few minutes later when he emerged, he jumped onto the bed and lay there on his back. “Can we talk now?”

She smirked at him, made a long deliberate study of his body, then shook her head. “Too distracting. Get dressed, then we can talk.”

He smirked right back, and carefully sniffed the dark gray armor suit before pulling it on. The garment seemed to be self cleaning, or at least it didn’t have any odor yet.

Self cleaning would be handy. I wonder if this is a whole other kind of suit, or just the latest version of those double bag suits.

Once dressed, he lay back down and relaxed. “Wanna tell me about glass houses?”

She pursed her lips. “Honestly? No. I really don't. But I don’t for a second think old R—Midnight will let it go if I don’t tell you, and his version would probably be worse than the truth.”

That's the second ‘old Raz’. I wonder what that means? I want to press her on it, but this seems like a bad time.

Raz nodded. “So what’s the truth?”

She shook her head slightly. “What happened to you in there?”

Well, that deflection wasn’t subtle.

“Well, I had a bad plan to get to the core of their organization and take it out. On the bright side, it sort of worked. The downside is I think it only worked out because I got lucky. They locked me up, chained me up in a highly conductive silver and copper room with another prisoner, then stuck some kind of mind control chip in me. The chip didn’t work on me. Then they killed you, or one of your aspects, in front of me, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help you. I thought they had you you, like, all of you. I was so afraid that somehow you’d been forced down to a single aspect, and then you died, right there and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Verbalizing the memory set his pulse racing once again. Only seeing her face, breathing her scent, and hearing her heartbeat let him easily calm back down.

“Then something else happened, and I broke out.”

She peered into his eyes, looking for what, he wasn’t sure. “How did you get out?”

He shrugged. “Apparently, I went berserk. Which seems to have come with some truly awful anger management problems.”

She laid her hand on his. “I watched you out there just now, and I saw you come out of that building covered in blood. You’ve gotten more powerful again. I keep watching you grow, and wondering how I can even fit into your life when I all I can do is—” she choked off her own words.

He sat up and pulled her over to him. “Come on!? Really? Surely you have to realize I don’t love you because of your teleportation abilities. I didn’t even know about those last month,” he lifted her chin until she could see his insouciant grin, “I don’t even love you just because you’re a one woman orgy. Who you are is what matters to me. So let’s just talk about that. You, me, us. No need to discuss anything super powers related. First and foremost, I want us to be ok.”

She playfully pounded on his chest. “Ugh! Why do you have to be so great when I least expect it? I should be mad at you! I deserve to be able to be mad at you right now! By all rights, I should be furious, and planning to break up with you. Instead, I’m sitting here feeling all worked up, and insecure. I can't stop admiring the way that suit fits you, and wondering if I’m still good enough for you.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, then scooted over on the bed. “You are. Come on up and let’s talk.”

She joined him on the bed. They held each other, and discussed the past week. He told her about his battle with Fidel, the fall, and his desperate recovery. He followed that with his time with the nomads, and his time in the refugee camp. She told him about brokering deals for precious metals, and reviving Midnight’s organization. When she got to the part about the invisible barrier that collapsed her down to a single aspect. He went stiff. While she talked about how inconvenient blowing her cover in front of her parents was, he couldn’t help but think of the images of her death.

When he finally relaxed, she pounced. “So, just making sure I didn’t misunderstand you. The guy who almost killed you is now your buddy, and the only people you actually managed to save at that outpost were the bad guys?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, he should have called you by now,” he said, knowing that Fidel had called.

She nodded eagerly. “He did. I’ve already sent some people to go talk to him, and see what he’s about. Your vouching for him will make that go a lot faster.”

“Thanks, and yeah, I realize it’s kind of messed up that somehow the only people I managed to save in the outpost aside from you and Nicolette were among the attackers. It’s not like I didn’t try to help other people you know! But I think Fidel legitimately wants to be better. I want to give him that chance.”

“And then your whole big plan boiled down to: ‘Get captured, and they’ll take you somewhere you can break out of.’ You do know that’s a pretty bad plan right? What if they just wanted you out of the picture? What if they just dropped you in the ocean?” She looked up at him with an exasperated expression.

“Yeah, it was short sighted and simplistic. I felt trapped, exhausted, and I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to be acting, instead of reacting. Somehow, I was blind to the reality that just because I acted instead of reacting, they would also be acting, and I needed plans in place for what to do when my plan went awry. Next time I’ll have a better thought out plan, with more contingencies. That’s where it all went wrong. I didn’t for a moment expect to see Braithwaite, or your aspect. When that happened, I froze up a bit. My whole plan fell apart right there. I’m just really lucky it all worked out.”

Sia pursed her lips, but reluctantly nodded. “Yeah. Lucky. You got real lucky. That part I did see. What about the other one, what’s-her-name?”

“That was Ingrid. I’m not sure what to make of her. I saved her, then she betrayed me. Then she helped me, then I helped her get out of that box. I don’t know what to think about her, and I have a feeling I haven’t seen the last of her.”

Sia’s expression hardened. “Ingrid huh? Let me guess, fair skinned, pretty, long blonde hair, slim, tits out to here?” she cupped her hands in the air a ways beyond her own impressive bust.

He nodded, “Yeah, that’s her.”

She scowled. “Well, how was she?”

He cocked his head to the side in bewilderment. “In what way? As a road trip companion? She’s rude, dismissive, condescending, and generally a pain in the ass. And all doesn't even include that she sicced the bad guys on me. I’ll admit, the worst part is, a big part of me wants to give her another chance. I feel there’s a good person under all those layers of rudeness and treachery.”

She huffed, an angry sound. “I bet I know what part of you wants that. The same part you were giving her on that rooftop.”

Blinking in confusion, Raz just looked at her for a moment. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She looked at him, a question in her eyes. “Are you being straight with me? Do you really not know what I’m talking about?”

Images of soft pale skin, a woman’s alluring scent, the feel of her body suddenly intruded on him. He shook his head to try and cast the images away. “I—I don’t know. I have some scattered images. Some of them are straight out of a slasher film, except in those images, I’m the slasher. Other images, are from a very different kind of movie.”

She pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Just so you know, I saw you. I saw you screwing her on a pile of wet laundry.”

He couldn’t suppress the incredulous reaction. “You saw me, with her? I don’t even like her!”

[But you do find her quite sexually attractive, and if the Berzerk state is id over ego, this turn of events is unfortunately quite possible.]

Shut up! That isn’t helping!

Before she even replied, he could see on her face that his answer infuriated her. He held up a hand in surrender. “Look, I’m not trying to deny anything. You say you saw it. I might as well have not been there, so I can’t even argue.”

He rubbed at his temple with his free hand. “I always hate it when people try to blame their own bad decisions on some external force. I don’t have any direct memory of this, but if you saw it, there’s no point in denying it. The only question is, what do we do now?”

She nestled under his arm, and lay next to him in silence for a long moment before responding. “This is going to sound crazy. I think… I think I want to move past this. As I’ve recently been reminded, I’m not exactly in a position to cast judgement.”

I wonder what that means. Probably the whole glass houses reference if I had to guess.

He looked at her with mild disbelief in his eyes. “Do you mean that? I’d rather get this all hashed out now if ‘moving past’ means it’s going to come up every time you’re mad at me in the future.”

She shook her head, and squeezed him tighter. “No. I mean it. Water under the bridge. I can’t lose you. We’re both not perfect. I really do want to just move past this.”

He wavered between relief and wondering just what had happened between him and Ingrid.

Ingrid is annoyingly hot. Does it make me a bad person that if I’m going to be in trouble for having sex with her, I kind of wish I at least remembered it? Just thinking about it is kind of turning me on.

[Bad person? I’m not truly qualified to say. As for being turned on, I’m filtering your senses for you, but your own reaction is probably due to a much more proximate event. On the other hand, from Sia’s physiological signs, the proximate event in question, it seems like you’re hardly in that much trouble.]

Raz finally allowed himself to see what he’d been willfully ignoring since she lay down next to him. It was suddenly clear that whatever emotional rollercoaster she’d been through had led her to a place where she was laying very still, to try and hide how close to literally shaking with arousal and need she was.

I feel like I need a relationship manual. She just told me she saw me with another woman, and now she’s hot to trot. I think I know the right answer here, but maybe it’s just that I want it to be the right answer.

“So, can I ‘hey babe’ you now?” he asked in a slightly playful tone.

She looked up at him with an intense gaze even as her hand slid down his chest, then past his stomach. Her hand came to a stop, almost as if by accident, lightly stroking along a bulge in the dark gray suite.

She let out a throaty sigh. “I watched you outside you know, and saw a side to you I didn’t know you had. I’ve seen a lot of people with abilities,” she ran her fingertips along the suit, the light armor feeling almost like she was touching his bare skin, “You’re getting so powerful. You’re on a whole other level,” she kissed along the edge of the bulging pectoral armor plates. The armor blunted the sensation, but just watching her do it was nearly as effective a turn on, ”I didn’t even know I could get turned on from watching someone teleport around, throw lightning around and electrocute monsters. Then I watched you get all sweaty moving their bodies around.” She made a low purring noise in the back of her throat.

So she’s turned on by power? I guess that’s not so—Great, now I have a whole new reason to wonder how she really feels about Midnight.

She froze, and looked up at him, her full lips parted, voice breathy. “Honey, you’re supposed to have super senses. If you do, you should know exactly what I need from you right now,” her hand squeezed firmly, “And if you’re not giving it to me in abundance, and soon, I’ll be quite disappointed.”

As he pulled her in for a deep kiss he wondered if this was really over. While he slipped out of the armor he wondered if he’d locked, or even completely shut, the door. Soon after, he rejoined her on the bed, and wondered what she was in the mood for. Shortly after that, he was too busy to be wondering anything at all.

Later, they lay entangled on the bed in a sweaty pile of limbs. They enjoyed the closeness after what had felt like far too long apart. All too soon, he detected the slight scent of spiced sausage in the air. His stomach grumbled.

“Are you actually hungry again?!” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I’m hoping it levels off, but I’ve been really hungry lately, and there wasn’t a lot of extra food around.”

They dressed and made their way out to the workshop and found Brock refilling the buffet table. Nicolette looked at them with amused, knowing eyes. Midnight studiously pretended not to notice them as he pored over a document.

In his post-coital clarity, he found himself turning the word over in his mind again.

Moor-quay-door Merca ytor, Merc a door. Mer cay tor, Merc a tor, Mer cator. Mir-cay-tor Mirc-ator Mar cator. It’s there. I know it! A connection so close I can taste it! Bee, full sensory search, find me why this sounds familiar.

[Commencing.]

The now familiar buzzing hum started up in the back of his mind. A low, almost subliminal hum that reminded him of standing in a room full of aging fluorescent lights.

That reminds me, it seems like you don’t do the buzzing as much as you used to.

[That’s because I don’t. With the HUD tree core maxed out, it takes significantly more complex or large actions to require me to utilize your spare cognitive ability.]

Good. I don’t miss having you kick up a buzz for every little thought I had.

[Search complete. Closest match to various pronunciations of Mercator you’re thinking of is your mother’s voice mail. It is quite possible that she isn’t saying Marcador. I think she’s saying Mercator.]

The same guy Midnight needs to go fight? That cannot be good. I guess I’m all in on that.

He looked over at Midnight, who was still dressed in his light battle armor configuration from the earlier outburst.

“When I let you listen to that voicemail from my mom, she was saying she went to Mercator, wasn’t she?”

Midnight nodded, his expression grave. “Yes, and she’s in terrible danger there.”

“What?! Well if she’s in danger, what are we doing here just chatting?” Raz demanded.

Midnight nodded. “I’m waiting until I’m ready, and have enough help to handle the fight. At the moment, I think I need to tell you what I know about the Megiror.”

Hex walked over and sat down in Raz’s lap, looking at Midnight. “As much as I’d like to hear this myself, don’t you think you’re burying the lead just a little?”

Midnight frowned. “What do you mean? Knowing who and what the Megiror are is—”

She interrupted him. “Don’t you think it’s about time you told him the truth about everything? Maybe starting with who you are.”

Midnight tensed up, then seemed to deflate just a little “Oh.” In that soft syllable, Raz heard more loss and pain, and even defeat, than he’d ever expected, and a gripping sense of loneliness and isolation.

The older man sighed, then nodded. “I suppose there’s nothing for it. Not much time left anyway. His features shifted just a little, and suddenly it was like Raz was looking into an aged mirror.

Midnight turned to each of them in turn, showing his face to Brock and Nicolette, Hex, then ending on Raz. “This is what I actually look like.”

He could tell that Midnight was now using less energy than he’d been using just a moment ago. To Raz’s eyes, his energy regen still looked painfully slow.

Raz looked at him with puzzlement in his eyes. “Well, I have to admit, you might be right. This does just give me more questions. Let’s start with, why do you look like me?”

Midnight took a deep breath, shook his head, then leaned forward onto his hands and rubbed a few circles on his temples before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Raz had seen all this before, but suddenly the significance of those mannerisms hit home. “No! No no no! That’s impossible. No!” He was shouting by the end. “I swear, if you try to tell me I’m a clone I will kill you right now!”

Hex started to laugh, softly at first, then louder, until she was throwing her head back and gasping for breath. “That’s good! I didn’t even think about that as a possibility.”

Raz stiffened and pushed her off his lap. “You knew?” The betrayal in his voice said it all.

She shook her head desperately. “No! I mean yes, but I just found out myself a few days ago. That’s why I wanted him to get this part out of the way first.”

Her body and voice carried no sign of deception. Midnight nodded subliminally in response to her words. With no signs of deception from either of them, Raz decided to accept it at face value. He pulled her back into his lap.

“Ok, so not a clone, that's a good start. What’s the deal?” He demanded.

Midnight told Raz the same story he’d told Hex. The three of them listening kept interrupting him with questions until he threatened to just leave if they couldn’t let him tell the story his way. He told them about his various adventures and misadventures escaping through, and exiting through Incursions. As he told them about the desperate battle in his most recent loop, and the way he’d exited from the Incursion with far too much velocity, suddenly Raz knew. A dark feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.

“Hold up.” He stopped the story.

Irked, Midnight looked askance at him, then finally acknowledged him.

Raz plowed on ahead. “Just so I’m clear. You’re me, but from an alternate universe?”

Midnight shook his head. “No. More like an alternate timeline. Sort of. It’s not like this situation came with a manual.”

“And you’ve been looping back ten to fifteen years how many times?” Raz pressed.

“Well, as I was just saying, sometimes the loops have been a lot longer than that. But yeah, in general I usually only go back fifteen years at the most, and usually more like ten. Let me think. The 1908 arrival was the earliest I’ve been. I’ve had some similar mishaps, but that’s the farthest I’ve been back.”

Raz thought about this. “So, you look older than me, but not hundreds of years old. Can you explain that?”

Midnight nodded. “In the second loop, I came very near to dying. I realized I needed a way to heal myself. I ended up finding an ability chain that gives me a decent regeneration, without costing too much energy.”

Raz looked at him, studying Midnight’s lined face. “So just how old are you?”

Midnight shrugged. “I could figure it out, but why? I’m old enough to know better than to answer that question. Old enough to have picked up a little wisdom along the way. Old enough to have lost my patience with explaining things over and over again, and definitely old enough to be tired of trying the same things over and over, and failing. Old enough.”

Raz frowned, then nodded. “That sounds tough. But hey, you look great for being hundreds of years old. Let’s shift gears here and talk about something else.”

Midnight slouched in his chair, then gave an exaggerated shrug. “Sure why not. Ask your questions. Let’s make sure this explanation takes as long as possible.”

“You barely made it through the nearest Incursion point back in time from when you left, right?”

Midnight nodded.

“Then, you exited with too much velocity. Right?” Raz continued.

Midnight tensed up, ever so slightly. “Yeah. That’s what happened.”

Raz dialed up his perceptions. “I was thinking about when I met you. I asked you if you murdered my father.”

Midnight nodded cautiously. “Yes, and I—”

Raz spoke over him. “You said no, and I accepted that, because it seemed like you weren’t lying. But I just realized the mistake was asking if you murdered him. Murder is a pretty specific thing. So let me ask a better question. Did you have anything to do with my father’s death?”

Midnight sighed, and nodded. “Yes. When I came through the Incursion, my armor was half shredded off me. I was like a giant soda can that had been torn in half. Razor edges all over me. I hit the far wall, then punched through it and two more walls before I broke through one of the building’s central structural pillars,” he swallowed, and gestured to Brock, “By the time I got back to the lab, Brock here was trying to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. There was nothing I could do. A shard of my armor must have caught him right across the throat. Then the building started to collapse, and you already know the rest.”

Raz looked to Brock, who was nodding in confirmation. He looked back to Midnight, a grim expression on his face.

“You and I aren’t finished on this topic. I can’t very well blame you for an alien invasion, but I can—” He stopped short, and looked Midnight up and down, “The alien invasion isn’t your fault, right?”

Midnight shook his head with a ghost of a smile on his face. “No, can’t take credit for that one. I’m just trying to stop it.”

Raz sighed with genuine relief. “Good, discovering that reds are your fault was bad enough. I wasn’t up to hearing that somehow another version of me was also the cause of this problem.”

Midnight nodded, and resumed his explanation. “So that’s how long I’ve been at this. Now I need to tell you about the Megiror,” he settled into a comfortable posture in the chair, “To understand the Megiror, you need to understand their society. They come from a culture of—”

“No.” Raz interrupted.

“No? What do you mean no?” Midnight looked puzzled.

“I don’t need any of that yet. You said my mom’s in terrible danger. All I need to know is how to kill these things. She might not be your real mom, but she is mine, and I can catch up on ‘enemy 101’ later. If it’s not directly relevant to getting her home safe, then we don’t have time for this!”

Midnight smiled grimly. “Now you’re talking!” He stopped short and his serious expression twitched slightly into a grin. “But that’s my line.”