ELF.6
"What is this about?" Dad asked as he took the papers.
He was distracting himself. A churning pit of anger and something very close to hatred simmered underneath a steel core of resolve in my father. The resolve was driven by a small, but no less intense bubble of self-flagellation. He was blaming himself for failing me. He'd had three cups of coffee so far with the stubborn set of his jaw I was used to seeing when he was on the job that told me he was taking everything seriously.
"For the classified information unintentionally revealed during the meeting with the Chief Director," Director Piggot's eyes bored into me for a second then shifted back. "And for any subsequent sensitive information you may hear from your daughter in the future."
Dad's eyebrows jumped as he turned. "Taylor?"
My head was still spinning. It was almost five minutes to one in the morning and I had just discovered that Scion, the greatest parahuman on Earth, wasn't human at all. He was an alien from outer space and super fucking dangerous and the government
knows. I had no idea what to tell my father, or even what I was allowed to say.
So instead I just smiled weakly. "I've got really strong Thinker powers."
"How strong?"
"Enough," the Director said dryly.
From the raw indignation pouring off her, I knew Emily Piggot hadn't been told anything more than the absolute basics. I'm not sure how good an idea that was, because her paranoia had only increased. Piggot was an eclectic mix of negative emotions around a will like a battering ram, but she was
honest. That honesty was currently grating right up against betrayal and bitter vindication.
"You're going to be working for the government?" Dad asked me, unsure. "You're
fifteen."
"She will be adequately compensated, Mr. Hebert," Piggot said evenly. "The WEDGDG is a civilian division, very low risk environment, but vital in keeping our society stable."
"What about the Wards?"
Piggot's lips thinned. Oh, she
really didn't want to deal with me as a Ward. "While that is an option, the Wards program is not," she paused to think over her wording. "Structured to make full use of Thinker abilities such as Taylor's."
My father looked down at the papers he held. "You mean the training, classes and patrols?"
"Make no mistake, we have a
vested interest in helping your daughter control her abilities regardless of where she goes." I didn't quite manage to hide my flinch. "We're looking at a truncated version of the Wards program to accommodate."
"What about her," Dad turned to look at me and grimaced. "Identity?"
Piggot grimaced as well but coupled with her tired eyes and blotchy skin, it made her look sick. "I'll be blunt: your daughter's status as a parahuman is public knowledge by now." Dad's hand came up to rub at the wrinkles on his forehead. "However…"
"I'm an elf," I stated flatly.
Piggot smirked. "Precisely. If we announce a new parahuman in Brockton Bay now? We'll lose that advantage. But if we were to relocate you – "
"I can't – "
"Or say we moved Taylor," Piggot continued as if Dad hadn't interrupted. "We could coordinate debuts with another PRT branch to sell the illusion. 'Taylor' shows up in, say, New York and a few months later a brand new, unknown is transferred here. It would take a fair bit of work." She looked between the two of us. "But we could do it."
I could see it. The Wards were all costumed heroes anyway so their identities were sealed. All the PRT had to do was find a body double for me, tall skinny girl with curly brown hair optional, put her in a costume with a full face mask and show her off to the public. Then they would claim that 'Taylors' only power was manifesting the strange storm and for the interests of public safety, she would not be using it. New York City was definitely big enough to hide a random girl in. Everyone would assume she went to another school, or was in another part of town. And then when the media interest in 'Maelstrom' went dormant, Brockton Bay's East-North-East Protectorate branch could toot the horn about their transfer who could do everything
but storms.
It was logically sound. It would take the pressure off Dad.
"What about the court cases?" he asked.
"She's a minor. Her physical presence is not strictly required."
So why didn't I like it? Maybe it was because I felt like I had forty-six people to make up for, more than that if the disappeared plane was never found. I hurt Brockton Bay, so I wanted to help fix it. And I didn't want to wait months of the public blaming someone else for my fuck up to do it.
Dad chewed on his lip, a habit I got from him, before he shook his head and looked at me. "Wards or," he hefted the papers a bit. "This. What do you want?"
"The Chief Director is recommending me personally."
His lips quirked to the side. "Not what I asked."
"I think I can make a real difference if I'm not a Ward." Endbringers. Scion. "My powers are…really good. I can make an impact on the
world. Let me do this. Please?"
I think this is the first thing I've really asked him for since high school started. Instead of new clothes, an allowance or a phone, I'm asking for permission to be a government analyst. Why am I not more surprised? It was like the sudden weird turn my life had taken couldn't just
stop at elf.
Dad seemed to think along the same lines, visibly struggling with himself as he looked down at the small stack of papers. "I want to know," he said quietly, but it hit me in the chest like he had shouted. That's what he was blaming himself for? Not knowing about the bullying? He cleared his throat and looked up at the Director. "I want to be informed of everything."
"You understand that by necessity Taylor may be assigned a different clearance level – "
"Then everything feasibly possible."
The harsh lines of Emily Piggot's face softened a little as she nodded. "Why don't you take those papers home to read over?"
Dad gave her a single nod of appreciation as he tucked the papers under his arm and stood up. "Taylor – "
"Will have to stay for the entire seventy-two-hour period."
Dad sighed. "Alright."
He had already taken for granted that we were going to try to hide who I was. I bit my tongue, hard. I knew he was trying to look out for me and it was a good idea. My problems with it were just that: my problems. Once I got my head on straight, my objections might just bow down to almighty reason. Until then, grin and bear it.
"If you both will excuse me," Piggot straightened her jacket and ran a tidying pass over her desk. "There is a bed with my name on it."
I went with Dad down to the main level escorted by two armed PRT troopers. In the lobby Dad turned to look at the closed gift shop with the various shelves and racks of hero merchandise. From here, I could see where the Aegis hoodies were and I had to frown. There were red ones? Why hadn't I gotten a red one?
Dad sighed explosively, all let out in a rush. "I hate all of this."
"Cannot change what has been," I replied reflexively. "Only what might be."
He turned back to me, surprised. "Sounded pretty wise there, kiddo. That was, who was it – no, don't tell me, your Galadriel impression, right?"
I threw back my head and groaned out loud.
"Dad."
In response he swept me up into a warm hug, chuckling as he gave me a squeeze. "Still my little girl, aren't you?"
For fuck's sake, look at me. Ready to start crying at the drop of a hat. "Yup." He gave me another squeeze before letting me go. I quickly wiped my eyes and poked him in the chest. "Go home and sleep. Eat. Shower and change clothes. You stink."
"Alright!" Dad sniffed himself and made an exaggerated face. "Alright. Tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow."
He bundled up his papers and walked out the door to the white PRT van waiting for him. I reached out to the ripples he made as the sliding glass doors closed behind him.
Goodnight, Dad.
He turned and yelled. It was slightly muffled by the glass, but I could hear him loud and clear. "Good night!"
I waved back.
________
"I'll take it from here."
I stopped dead at the voice, heart leaping into my throat as Annabelle cut off her story about her two asshole cats. The owner of the swift, purposeful steps that I had heard approaching us was in midnight blue power armor with silver highlights. Armsmaster. He was carrying a laptop in his offhand with the head of his custom built halberd visible over his right shoulder. I was mentally pleading, fucking
begging my face not to turn red as I bit the inside of my cheek.
Annabelle paused after she opened her mouth, as if about to say something and then rethought it. "Yes, sir." She flashed me a small smile. "Have a good night, Taylor."
"You too." I said automatically. Armsmaster gestured with his head and started walking. I hesitated, but caught up in three steps, faltering on the fourth as he handed me the laptop. "Thank you."
He simply nodded. "In daylight hours, we will be attempting to get a sample of the material you were encased in."
I lifted my head and forced myself to look at him. Think more, feel less. "You couldn't get it before?"
"The material you created resisted all efforts." A muscle on his jaw jumped out along with a flicker of frustration. "Not even Dragon could – "
"Dragon?" I blurted. "You mean
the Dragon?" The greatest tinker in the world had been the halls of Winslow High plinking away at my locker?
"Yes." We came to a crossroad in the corridors and he gestured with a hand the direction. "Diamond tipped tools
dulled." He talked with his hands. Not overtly, but little twitches of his fingers and shoulders accompanied his words like a conductor rushing an orchestra through a complicated piece. "We then attempted to see into the," his mouth worked. "Cocoon. Ultrasound, thermal imaging, magnetic resonance, we even tried X-ray in attempts. No response from the ECG, but positive results from the EEG and MEG."
I held up a hand and he glanced at me. "Probes to monitor fine electrical activity and occurring magnetic fields. Variations are used in hospital for brain imaging." I lowered my hand. "There were electrical impulses. Dragon put forward the idea that it was a brain, that it was thinking. That it might have been
you."
An involuntary shudder went down my back. The very idea that I might have been stuck there in Winslow, in my locker as some
thing unable to move, or talk, or eat. Just exist in my own little slice of personal Hell. Would classes have been canceled indefinitely? No, I didn't think so. It would have just been that police line and two troopers to scare away the curious. And then after a few weeks, they'd just close off the hallway or haul in a forklift to cut 'me' out of the wall and life would go on.
I could tell when a thought occurred to Armsmaster because his presence spiked with worry. "Our attempts to cut through…didn't hurt you, did it?"
"No," I reassured him quickly. "At least, I don't think so. I don't remember any of it."
Worry appeased, he kept talking. "Now that you are out, perhaps it will be less resistant. There are several parahumans with similar Shaker abilities. At times, distance or disuse weakens the material."
"And if it doesn't?" I adjusted my grip on my laptop. 'Shaker' must be the term for parahumans that can grow stuff out of the surroundings. "Will I have to go out there and try to…get rid of it?"
That would be a nice wrinkle in the 'Hide Taylor' plan.
Armsmaster's mouth twisted. "We will think of something."
At the end of the long hallway was a series of rooms with simple steel doors and little hooks beside each door with a keychain holding one key. He took one off, unlocked the corresponding door and then handed the key to me.
"For the time being, this will be your quarters. We are extending some measure of trust to you. Do not abuse it."
I grasped the key. "I won't. Thank you."
"Use of Master abilities without due cause will count as assault with a parahuman ability, which carries the same weight as an aggravated assault charge."
Didn't I
just say I won't be abusing trust? I peered at him. His emotional mix hadn't changed. It was driven, very driven. In danger of washing everything else out. I took a breath and decided to just let it go.
"Okay."
He risked a smile, relaxing. "You did the right thing turning yourself in. There are many who would have reacted violently, or flee the scene."
I smiled tremulously.
"I won't keep you any longer. Get some rest."
I nearly swallowed my tongue tripping over saying goodnight to
Armsmaster. Shit, what do I say,
whatdoIsay? "Thanks." He says 'get rest' and you say 'Thanks?'
"You're welcome."
Right, guess that awkwardness didn't matter.
I entered my room and firmly shut the door. It held the same amenities as my former cell room but in a different layout. The room was stretched out rectangular instead of a rough T shape of the main room and bathroom to the side. This one even had a closet although it was empty. I set the laptop on the table and threw myself onto the bed. I laid there for a few seconds before I started grinning so wide my face hurt.
I'm going to be a hero.
I fell asleep like that, feet sticking off the bed in Velocity sneakers and on top of the covers with head bent in a way that would have given me a crick in the neck a week ago. It didn't take long for me to start dreaming. It was a soothing, peaceful dream with an edge. I dreamt of warm air, music and sitting on a shore of a crystal lake, weaving strands of bone in a tightly bound helix pattern. Meticulous motions almost managing to make me fall asleep within the dream.
Almost.
The ocean was hungry.
It nipped at the very edges like it was trying to take some of me, and it scraped against my mind like it was trying to give me some of it. I did not dare ignore it, not completely, but I was able to set it aside as I wove. A joyful melody played off the waves and currents of the ocean, little, gentle taps, pulls and pushes echoed and I played with them. I was careful not to drown a single note out.
A small enclave of men and women were gathered on the shores of a large, deep blue lake. Without the armor, I could see that they all were tall and thin with long ears and sharp features. Every one of us was working on something, from small tile like pieces inscribed with shapes to large futuristic looking vehicles showing battle damage. I wove. I held a stub with one hand of a tightly coiled helix cylinder that gently grew. It barely weighed anything now, but I knew I had a long way to go to reach its full length. It would be heavier still with strength sung into it.
Staff? Spear? Sword? Did it matter?
"Of course it matters, Vernasse."
I bit off a curse as the bone wove wrong and a splitting headache rammed my temples. I turned my note edged and sheared the mistake off. "
Must you?"
My brother in brightly colored clothes that vaguely reminded me of a jester with almost but not quite clashing patterns, just laughed. I set my project down and bent over, scooping up a handful of water to fling into his face. He sputtered, coughing and it was my turn to laugh.
Alive. He was still alive.
Something about that felt wrong. I … I don't have a brother.
The ocean ejected me with a violent shudder and I woke up sick to my stomach. The feeling of spinning out into a hungry oblivion fresh in my mind as I stumbled to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. I laid my head on my arm as I sunk to the floor. My chest ached.
And there was a song in my head.
