“Try it now!” said Andrea McCrea.

Shanks flipped the switch, then jumped back instinctively, having been stung by an unexpected arc of electricity too many times in the past. This time it was unnecessary, with nothing more than a small shower of sparks as the contact closed, and a loud hum immediately came from the towering assemblage of electrical equipment occupying the centre of the table. He wiped a hand across his eyes to clear away the tears brought on by the acrid chemical fumes that rose from the batteries powering it all. Is the bloody window open? he thought, looking up at the lab's high walls. They were, he saw, but there was barely any wind to change the air in the large, tall room.

“Is it working?” he asked.

There was a pause and he made his way around the long bench to stand beside the other scientist. The disappointment he felt when he saw the arc jumping across the graphite contacts was achingly familiar. It wasn't alternating. Just a steady flow of electricity jumping across the inch wide gap causing the tips of the contacts to glow white hot. He swore profanely, stalked back around the table and shut it off again. “Dammit! I was sure we had it that time!”

“It's only been a few days,” Andrea reminded him. “Maxine Hester took a year to make the breakthrough!” She walked over to another table, where a circuit diagram of the apparatus was pinned down at the corners by four large, heavy rheostats. “Maybe if we add another coil here, make it harder for the current to flow through the second circuit. Maybe these two coils have to be in exact balance...”

Shanks looked over her shoulder to see where her finger lay. “Didn’t we try that two days ago?”

Andrea cursed. “Yes, you're right. Okay, what if we put it here?”

“You're mad! The whole thing’ll blow up!”

“It has to be something unexpected, something no-one's tried before, and maybe the reason is because everyone thought it would blow up!”

“Well, let me get well out of the room before you throw the switch!”

“We'll both be out of the room. We'll rig up a long length of twine to close the contact.”

Shanks chuckled. “Or we could get Private Henry to throw the switch for us.”

Andrea gave him a look. “Why don’t you like him? He's protecting us, He’s prepared to give his life defending us! You should give him some respect!”

“You're the one who called him Private Pugface yesterday.”

“Yes, and I shouldn't have. It was tired and stressed out and not in the mood for his peculiar brand of humour. Piss him off and, if an assassin really does show up, he might just let him through!”

Shanks sighed. “It was just a joke! It's called humour, you should try it some time.”

“Let's get this thing set up. Go get another coil.”

“You’re really going to do it then?”

“Have you got a better idea?” She went back to the towering and gently smoking apparatus and began unclipping cables, while Shanks went into the next room, nodding respectfully to the guard on duty as he went past in case he'd overheard the exchange. Finn, he thought his name was. Unlike Henry, he took very little interest in what the two scientists were doing and just stood there, staring across the room at the bare brick wall opposite. For hours on end! Shanks would have gone insane with boredom if he'd been in his place, so perhaps Henry's dry, gently teasing humour was understandable after all. It didn't make it any easier to be on the receiving end of it, though.

The storeroom was piled full with crates and boxes containing every type and variety of electrical component that had ever been invented, all stacked untidily against three walls. He spent fifteen minutes hauling boxes around, reading crabbily written labels and smudged code numbers, until he found the one he wanted, and then he carried it back into the main lab. He put it on the main table, tore it open and pulled out the heavy object it contained. Unlike everything else in the room, it gleaned brand new, completely untarnished with soot and scorch marks. He eyed the perfectly arranged coils of shining copper wire, thinking that it was a shame to mar its perfection by actually using it, then put it aside for the moment to help disassemble the apparatus.

“Take off the contacts, will you?” said Andrea without looking up.

“They're still hot!”

The woman chuckled. “Don't be so undeclared! Are you a man or a...” Then she looked up guiltily. “Oh, sorry! I forgot...”

Shanks sighed. Shortly after they’d returned to work, he’d told her his deep, dark secret, that he was a member of the Hetin folk. With so many people knowing now, it seemed only fair that the person he spent most of his life with should also know, providing she didn’t tell anyone else. She had, of course, asked to see his anatomical additions, and he'd complied stoically, even standing patiently while she knelt to get a better look. He'd then had to explain what it was for and how it was used, which had made her eyes wide in disbelief and astonishment. “What must the world have been like when everyone, everywhere was like that?” she'd wondered aloud.

“Not everyone,” he'd replied. “Just half of everyone.” He'd then had to explain about the female Hetin body, and about how their children grew inside them. The look on her face told him plainly that she was wondering whether he was pulling her leg, but another look at the thing hanging between his legs was enough to convince her.

Shanks wrapped a rag around his fingers to remove the graphite contacts, then laid them gently on the table. The once pointed ends were becoming rounded now where some of the carbon had vaporized, but they still had plenty of use left in them and, although they were far from the most expensive items they were using, they weren't so cheap that they could afford to just throw them away. Half an hour later they'd stripped the machine down to its bare essentials and began building it up again, with the new coil in place.

“If it does blow up, perhaps we can turn it into a new weapon,” suggested Shanks as he connected the contacts to the battery. “A new secret weapon! Perhaps it'll turn the tide of the war!” Andrea made no reply, being too busy with the secondary circuit. “Do you ever think about what'll happen to us if we lose the war?” He continued.

“No.”

“Will the Carrowmen put us to work in their own research and development facilities? Will they kill us? What'll happen to me if they find out I'm Hetin? If they really are allied to the Radiants, they'll want me dead, and they’ll probably torture me first to make me name other Hetins I know about!”

“Do you know any other Hetins?”

“We meet now and again. They tend to move around, avoid staying in one place too long so I couldn't tell them where they are now, but I might still know things that could help identify them. It worries me, you know?”

“So let’s do our part to make sure we don't lose.”

“I was thinking...” He looked across at the guard, who seemed to be paying them no attention whatsoever. He lowered his voice nonetheless. “I was thinking maybe I should get out while I still can. Sneak out of the city with the civilian refugees, lose myself in the crowd and just go! Far, far away from the war!” He looked up into her face to see how she was taking his words. “I have to protect them, you see! There are so few of us left...”

“They think this war was started by the Radiants to destroy human civilisation,” replied Andrea. “If that happens, if they round up all the survivors and keep them in cages, what hope will there be for your people then?”

Shanks stared at her, torn with indecision. “I can’t be taken alive,” he said. “I can't!”

“Then don’t be.”

Shanks stared at her again, pausing in his work, taking in the implications of what she’d said. She stared back at him, regretting the sharp remark, realising the depth of his concerns. “It won’t come to that,” she said, more gently. “They've got a plan. It's obvious. Too obvious, perhaps. If Carrow has spies in the city, they'd have to be pretty blind to miss it.”

“You think the plan will fail then? Whatever it is?”

“Even if the Carrowmen know there's a plan, they don't know what it is. The plan could work. And if it doesn't, there's this device, our electric messiah. Maybe we'll win the war!”

“If we ever figure it out.”

“So let’s figure it out. Come on, let's get this thing built.” Shanks nodded grimly and returned to work.

He didn’t hear the door opening, but he did hear a soft exhalation of breath and looked around to see the guard, Finn, collapsing to the ground, his hands clutching at his jacket where a patch of blood was spreading. He was so transfixed by the man's death that for a moment he didn’t realise that there was another man in the room, standing in the doorway that led out into the corridor. A man dressed in the uniform of the Helberion army. Then the new man turned, aiming something at him. Shanks could only stand and stare, and he would have died there and then if Andrea hadn't grabbed his arm and pulled him off his feet. They both fell to the floor, Shanks on top of the woman, and the small crossbow bolt passed through the space where he’d been standing and bounced off the wall behind them.

“Shit!” he gasped. He looked under the table and saw the man running towards them, drawing a long dagger from his boot sheath. Terror gripped him and he scrambled back to his feet, backing away from the oncoming assassin until he felt the wall at his back, Andrea completely forgotten.

The assassin ignored the woman, who was only just lifting herself up onto one elbow, and went for Shanks, judging him to be the greatest threat. He held the knife out in front of him as he ran, using his momentum to drive it forward. Shanks tried to dodge out of the way and threw his hands out in front of him. The knife sliced through his hand, barely slowing, then entered his chest...

And stopped. The assassin stared in surprise but recovered quickly, pulling the knife out and preparing for another blow. Shanks grabbed his wrist with his uninjured hand and twisted hard. He knew how to fight a normal man, but the assassin had never fought a Hetin man before. He didn’t know that bony ribs were strong enough to stop a knife, if it failed to slip between them, and he didn’t know the strength that his arm bones gave his opponent, a strength that the assassin's cartilaginous bones couldn't match.

The assassin's wrist crumpled under Shanks’ crushing grip and he gave a cry of surprise and pain. Shanks only had one usable hand, though. His left hand was pouring blood where he held it protectively against his chest, and with his right hand keeping the assassin's dagger away from his body, he had no way to stop him as the assassin reached down to his belt with his left hand and drew another knife. Smaller, but easily capable of reaching his heart if he took care to miss his ribs this time. He braced himself, preparing the deadly thrust...

Andrea, whom they’d both forgotten, brought the brand new coil down hard on his head. The assassin crumpled, his skull visibly dented by the blow, and Shanks took the opportunity to twist the long dagger out of his grasp. The assassin recovered quickly and lashed out with his short knife, but Shanks was faster, and his stolen knife sank deep into the assassin’s chest, cutting cleanly through the comparatively weaker cartilaginous ribs and breast bone. The assassin stared, as if he couldn't understand what had gone wrong, and then he sagged and fell against the scientist. Shanks held onto him for a moment, staring in shock as the life went out of his eyes, and then he threw the corpse away from him in horror. It fell to the floor at Andrea’s feet and lay still.

They both stared at the corpse and backed away from it, as if it might come back to life and attack them again, but then the pain in his hand reminded Shanks of his injury and he looked down at it. Blood was trickling in a steady stream down his forearm and dripping onto the floor. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he reached out to the desk with his other hand to steady himself. “Apply pressure!” said Andrea, searching around for something to use as a bandage. “And hold it up! Up above your head!”

They heard running footsteps, and a moment later more soldiers ran into the room. Both scientists froze in terror, but they were proper soldiers this time, pistols in their hands. One ran over to Finn's body while the others spread out, their eyes scanning the room. “You alright?” asked one, seeing the blood soaking Shanks’ lab coat. The scientist was still standing, though, so he couldn’t be too badly hurt. “Where is he?” Then he spotted the dead assassin and ran over to examine him. “You killed him?” he said in surprise.

Shanks bit back a sarcastic remark and just nodded. “Finn's dead!” said the first soldier. “”Mini crossbow!”

The second soldier had already spotted the weapon, though. A tiny weapon, small enough to be hidden in a pocket but just as deadly as the full sized version. It was capable of holding two bolts at a time, which it shot with powerful springs. He kicked it away from the corpse, along with the small knife it was still holding in its hand, then turned it over with his boot. “Anyone recognise him?” he asked.

More soldiers came over to examine the corpses’ face. “Never seen him before,” said another, and the others shook their heads one by one.

The Corporal swore. “That means there’ll be another dead soldier somewhere, murdered for his uniform. Someone killed for the crime of being the same size and build as this bastard.” He looked over at Andrea, who was tying a rag around Shanks’ hand, the Hetin man grimacing with pain as she jerked the knots tight. “Brent, take this guy to the infirmary.”

The soldier gestured for the scientist to follow him, but just as he reached the door an idea came to him. “You're going to find out who this guy was, right?” called back Shanks to the Corporal.

“Not us, the intelligence guys.”

“Then they'll search out all his friends and associates, see if they're members of a Carrow cell?”

“I would imagine so, yes.”

“If the leader of the cell is an adoptee, he mustn't be killed. He must be taken prisoner and brought here.”

“Here? Why?”

“A test subject!” said Andrea, wiping her bloody hands on her lab coat.

Shanks nodded. “We don’t really want an alternator. We're trying to build one because the one Maxine Hester built had a side effect we can use against the Radiants, but there might be many ways of building an alternator, only one of which has that side effect. How do we know if the one we eventually come up with is the right one?”

“He's right!” Andrea told the soldier. “We need him here, or not far away, so we can see if our device is having an effect on him.”

“He'll have glowing skin,” added Shanks. “Or covered in skin powder. Also, he’ll be a wizard, so take care!”

“We know about adoptees,” said the soldier irritably. “Everyone’s been briefed. I'll pass on your request, but these things aren’t up to us, you know?” Shanks nodded his understanding. “Good. Now go and get yourself sewn up.” Shanks glanced back at Andrea one last time, then allowed the other soldier to lead him away.

☆☆☆

“And how are we today?” asked Benjamin with a benevolent smile.

Malone jerked at the manacles on his wrists. His hands weren’t behind his back this time, they must be confident that escape was impossible. He tried to think of a way he could take advantage of that, but nothing came to him. “Fine,’ he said cheerfully. “Never been better. Thanks for asking.”

Benjamin smiled. They were sitting across the table in the crockery room, the same as always. A butler was placing a steaming teapot and two small porcelain cups on the table, a look of inscrutable calm on his face. It wasn't the man Malone had whacked on the head the day he’d been captured, he noted. He hadn’t seen him since that day, in fact. He hoped it was because his benevolent employer had given him a few days off while he recovered, but part of him worried that the man might have died from his injuries. Surely, though, if that we’re the case, Benjamin would have mentioned it, just to increase his torment. Malone was afraid to ask, just in case.

The nobleman was wearing casual clothes this time. A green velvet jacket over a white shirt and with skin tight breeches covering his legs. Malone, as before, wore nothing. Benjamin looked at the bandages on his arm. “And how are your injuries healing?” he asked.

“Coming along,” replied the former batman. In fact, the torn skin was healing a lot faster than he'd expected it to! He'd been injured plenty of times before, while with the Brigadier, so he had a pretty good idea how long deep lacerations should take to heal, and his injuries were well ahead of schedule. They also weren't infected. He hadn't worried about that until recently, because he hadn’t expected to live long enough for it to matter. The dogs had bitten him through his jacket sleeves, he remembered. The fabric must have wiped the dog’s teeth clean before they could reach his skin.

He looked down at the bandages that still covered his arm. Maybe the injuries hadn't been as bad as he'd thought they’d been, he thought, except they had been. He knew exactly how badly the dogs had hurt him! So what was going on? He wasn't going to show uncertainty and confusion in front of this man, though, so he kept the smile on his face as if everything was perfect in his world. “And you?” he asked. “Is all well with you?”

“Everything is very well indeed,” replied Benjamin. “I'm glad we can have these nice, civilised discussions. It would be a shame if things got unpleasant between us.”

“If things had been different, we might have been friends,” said Malone, continuing the banter.

“Precisely!” agreed Benjamin with delight. He picked up the teacup and poured a cup, which he then pushed over to his prisoner. “Do you take sugar?” he asked.

“One lump please.” The nobleman picked up a sugar cube with a pair of silver tongs and dropped it into Malone's cup. Malone reached over with his manacled hands, picked up the silver spoon and stirred the tea, then picked up the cup and took a sip from it. “Very good,” he said.

“Corwellian. Very expensive. I only share it with very special guests.”

“I'm flattered. I've got nothing left to tell you, you know. I've told you everything.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I was just wondering why I was still alive. I broke into your house, killed your dogs, injured your men, all in an attempt to kill you. I thought you would have killed me and dumped my body somewhere by now.”

“I abhor waste. I think you can still be useful to me.”

“If you’re expecting someone to try to rescue me, someone you can lure into a trap, I'm afraid you’re going to be disappointed. Nobody's going to come for me. No-one even knows I'm here.”

“They won't be coming for you, I know, but people are going to come for me sooner or later. I haven't been able to appear in public for some time, because of this.” He produced a small handkerchief and wiped some of the powder from his arm, revealing the luminous skin beneath. “Ever since your Brigadier discovered us, ever since Fienwell's incompetence. People are beginning to notice, beginning to wonder. I can only say I'm Ill, or attending a business meeting in Darmorell, for so long. People expect me to actually be at home, able to receive visitors, now and then. Business contacts are beginning to remember that I had powdered skin the last time they saw me. Sooner or later they're going to figure out what I am, and then I'm going to have to leave.”

“I imagine you've made arrangements to make sure the rebels continue to benefit from your largesse.”

Benjamin chuckled. “One really doesn't expect to hear that kind of language from someone not yet declared human. I could wish that all declared humans had your intellect! Yes, I’ve made arrangements. My money will be handled by agents who share my views on the current state of the world. War, misery, starvation... Why do you and your Brigadier think it so important that there be so much suffering in the world? Would it really be so bad if humans were farmed instead of being allowed to run around hurting each other?”

“Yes!” said Malone, although he found to his surprise that he wasn't as convinced of it as he seemed to remember being. “Human civilisation has its problems, it's true, but it should be up to us to solve them for ourselves, our own way.”

“And how many people must suffer and die before we solve them? Look at cattle, for instance. In the wild they suffer from disease, parasites. They're preyed upon by wolves and coyotes. Compare them with farmed cattle. Fat, healthy, content...”

“Blooded once a month and eventually slaughtered for food,” countered Malone, but again his heart wasn’t really in it. He began to have the very strange feeling that he was arguing the wrong side of the issue.

“The Radiants don’t want to eat us,” chuckled Benjamin, and Malone blushed with embarrassment. Of course the Radiants didn't eat humans! They adopted them, raised them to become higher forms of life. Everyone wanted to be a Radiant one day. It was the natural end point of a lifetime of strife and effort. The reward that came at the end of all that stress and hard work. It was strange to think that he'd once seen them as enemies, hated and feared them. He probably still would if he hadn’t come here, on his foolish, stupid mission to kill this man, this man who only wanted what was best for the human race...

He jerked back to himself with sudden shock and a feeling of near panic, as if he'd fallen into deep water and nearly drowned. What was he thinking? Just a few days as a captive of this man and he was coming to think the way he did, to believe what he believed! What was happening to him? He saw that Benjamin was staring at him with a strange intensity, as if he was an interesting experiment he was performing in a test tube. “Not quite there yet,” he said in disappointment. “Soon, though. Another day or two...”

Understanding came with a shock like a jolt of electricity. “You're trying to parent bond me!” he said, almost in a shout.

“Trying,” admitted Benjamin. “Succeeding. I admit I'm hurrying it along a little. Just a little blessing to turn weeks into days. The Brigadier parented you for years, and look how little progress you made in that time. You're barely more human now than you were when your first parents died.”

“That's not true! I'm much more human than I was then! My hands...” He held up his manacled hands to show him his long, dexterous fingers.

Benjamin waved a hand dismissively. “Look at your face,” he said. “Your teeth. Under my parenthood you'll be fully human in no time, and as an added bonus you'll believe what I believe as well. You’ll be a genuine, and highly valuable addition to the cause...”

“No!” Malone leapt to his feet and threw the table aside, then threw himself at the other man. Benjamin caught him in his arms, though, and held him off easily. “I took the precaution of adding a little something to your morning meal,” he explained. “Just to take away a little of your strength. Jenkins!” The butler reappeared as if he'd been waiting just outside the door. “Please set our guest's chair upright again, will you?” The butler did so, and then Benjamin sat Malone back down in it. Now that his attention hard been drawn to it, the former batman could feel the weakness in his limbs. A very faint numbness in all his extremities and a slightly bitter taste in his mouth. Despair swept over him, and only a tremendous effort of will prevented him from shedding tears of pure terror.

“I'll never join you!” He declared, almost in a pure rage. “Never!”

Benjamin just smiled, though. “I'm afraid it doesn’t work that way,” he said. “Any animal that spends too much time with another animal one rung up the ladder will soon find itself parent bonded to the higher animal. What the lower animal wants doesn't come into it. Come on now, lad! You're going to be human! A fully declared human! What you've always wanted!” Malone could only shake his head.

“I think you knew all along what I was doing to you,” continued the aristocrat conversationally as the butler set the table upright and placed the broken shards of the tea set on a serving tray. He then bowed to his master before carrying it away. “You must have known why I was spending so much time alone with you. Maybe the fact that it was only an hour a day allowed you to deny it to yourself. After all, it normally takes many hours a day, over weeks, for a human to form a parent bond. But you knew I was an adoptee, and that adoptees have wizard powers. I think there was a part of you that wanted me to adopt you.”

“No!” Malone was full of doubt and confusion, though. Could Benjamin be right? Had a part of him known all along? Was he really so desperate to become human that he was willing to betray everything he believed in? Betray the Brigadier? Tears of guilt and shame filled his eyes, and this time there was nothing he could to do stop them.

“I can see the turmoil you’re going through. This is completely normal and nothing to be ashamed of. It will pass in a day or two, and then I think we'll be able to do away with those cumbersome manacles. I hope you don't mind if we leave the clothes until you’re completely human, though. Your body still has one or two dog features if you know where to look, and it fascinates me to see them gradually fade away.” He paused as the butler returned with another tea set which he placed on the table, then poured a cup for both of them. Benjamin waited until he'd gone before he spoke again.

“In the meantime, we have to spend some time together. Even with blessings, the process can only be hurried so far, I'm afraid, if we want to avoid the risk of aberrant development. So, what shall we do? I know, how about a nice game of Glory?”

He stood and went over to a small cabinet that contained a number of board games while Malone could only sit there, slumped in the chair, weeping bitter tears of utter, final despair.