Master Force (Original Contemporary Mil-Fi LitRPG)

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 11 - DIVIDED LOYALTIES​

"Mr. Rataj."

"Oh, you're back. I thought it was over."

The last Polish Supremacy member was waiting for Erika in the same interview room of the Mokotów prison where she and Al had grilled him on what he knew last time.

"I hope you're well."

The man half-laughed.

"As well as one could, waiting to see what will come of me. I'm still confined to high-security, no visits, and one hour of exercise without other prisoners. Also, I've seen an attorney exactly once so far. I'm not sure he truly has my interests in mind."

"I hear you're not giving the time of day to your fellow Polish policemen," Erika said.

"I don't have a watch anymore."

"Why? You talked a lot to us, after all."

"It's different. Your faction defeated us. The government had nothing to do with it. It's that simple. Besides, we were talking about the Master System, not about people who had nothing to do with our faction."

"So, because we're the ones who killed your friends, you're helping us and no one else?"

Erika shook her head. The notion was a bit alien. Or maybe not. There were a lot of cultures built around honor and stuff like that. Cultures that respected strength exclusively and regarded defeat in honorable combat as worthy of respect for the victor. She didn't think Poland was like that, but the guy had talked about old-time Poland and Greater Poland. So maybe he was trying to recreate his vision of greatness and live by the codes of chivalry of centuries ago.

Or maybe he was drawing from some twisted gamer subculture.

"I'm not helping you. I can't. I'm still of the Polish Supremacy, even if I'm the last one of its Masters, and that means I can't help you. I can just answer generic questions."

"So, if I came to ask you to help us with your Steward ability, then…?"

"I wouldn't. And before you ask, this prison facility is within your district, so my ability is completely suppressed. The only thing I can get from it is that someone else – NATO, I know – is in control of where I am, and that's it. I can't even tell anything about the district's size and shape anymore. I used to feel all the districts nearby somehow, even inactive. At least up to two districts from here. But while in your territory? I can't anymore."

"But if, theoretically, moved you to a place in western Germany, outside of the District borders, then you'd regain your power back in full?"

"I still wouldn't use it for you. I'd probably pop a brain aneurysm or something. For a Master to directly help a faction opposite his own without helping his own as well… that's simply not allowed. And NATO is definitely one that opposes us."

Erika remembered the blinding headaches that came when simply trying to pretend that she was American first before NATO and shuddered at the thought that this… geas… would do if she acted against NATO. The Master abilities were terribly good, and the borderline superhuman improvements that came with them were excellent, yet there seemed to be a heavy price to pay for the faction affiliation. The Master System didn't go for court-martial; it went straight to physical punishment. She would have loved to know that beforehand, except she did not really had a choice when Al inadvertently awakened her.

"So, you can't help me."

"You really need my abilities as a Steward? Oskar said they would mostly overlap with a District control center, and you've got one of those."

"I think there is more to it than just a map of what the Master System considers Districts. But if you are physically prevented from helping me, that's not going to happen. A pity."

"There's a way if you want to."

Erika frowned. He'd just told her it was impossible.

"Ah. Here we are. There is actually a way, and now you want a bargain from me."

"Well, I'm a prisoner. Complicit in terrorism. That will probably get me a life sentence if I'm allowed to have a trial and you don't cover it up with Top Secret or something. Or maybe a trip to Guantanamo."

That was not in the cards, she knew, but he didn't.

"That can still happen. So, you want a pardon? I'm sure that's not possible, but since you did not physically participate in the assault, maybe some extenuating…"

"I want to defect."

"Excuse me?"

She hadn't expected that one.

"My faction is essentially finished. I'm the last Master of the Polish Supremacy. However, I can transfer my loyalties to NATO as a last resort. This way, you can get what I have, and I get… probably not freedom. But at least not prison. I would probably end up trying to escape anyway and getting shot."

"And how could we trust you?"

"You know that the Master System takes faction loyalty seriously. If I were NATO, I couldn't act against NATO anymore. Doing so would be… extremely painful for me. I would have to follow NATO's rules and act in NATO's interests."

"So, you say you can change allegiance, switch… factions. How?"

"Remember what I told you when you asked how to transfer the District to the USA hypothetically? Leave the control center undefended, and once it's switched, fight the USA Masters one by one and lose. If we were to fight, and you defeated me, then I can swear allegiance to NATO. And if you accept it, I will join your faction."

He laughed.

"And maybe they'll be able to seize the forum server at last. No one seems to figure out why they can't shut it down back in Korea."

"Well, we don't recruit that way exactly, M. Rataj."

"Does not matter for us Masters. If I surrender to NATO, I'm NATO, as far as the Master System goes."

There was a loud snap, and the light shackles keeping Marek Rataj's hands snapped. She realized suddenly that, while he might not have offensive Master abilities, he could have the entire physical enhancements of a Level 2.

"This time, there is no honor or dishonor. Only victory or defeat!" he intoned formally, which sounded quite silly.



Erika stood and moved into an unarmed combat stance. Marek did the same, stretching his fingers slowly as two Polish guardsmen rushed into the room. Erika signaled them to stand down.

"Don't interfere. Mr. Rataj and I are going to… test something."

One answered something in Polish, and Erika shushed him with a raised hand. She looked back at Marek.

"If you manage to win, I'm not swearing fealty to your Polish faction or anything."

"You don't need to. Now, let's see what your abilities are."

Erika raised her hands and quickly improvised. White frost condensation appeared on her fists.

"Freezer, then. I know that one from Janosz. Well, try not to damage me too much. I'd like to keep my limbs intact for a while, even if I don't need them for my abilities."

Marek pounced at a speed that would probably have surprised anyone. He was fast, far faster than anyone had a right to be. But Erika was still Level 1; her reflexes were already at the top of the normal range, and she'd trained for a couple of weeks along real special forces. She dodged the fist and snapped at the wrist, inflicting a small cold bite.

"First hit goes to NATO."

"Less talk, more action," Marek replied, almost parroting Porridge back at Bergholz Base.

He and Erika slowly turned around the table while the two prison guards looked incredulously from the corner of the room. Marek had been a model prisoner so far, and suddenly, he and the NATO officer were trading blows.

Suddenly, Marek's knee went up, the table tore out with a loud groan and was thrown across the room. At the same time, he came at Erika in a blur that was nearly too much for her. But she dodged again, and memories of the unarmed combat during officer school and at the hands of Legs and Porridge came back. She swept her leg to intercept and trip the Pole.

Unfortunately, Marek managed to twist and retain his upright position. The entire movement didn't look natural and was only possible because of his extreme speed and reflexes. The counterpunch down, however, took her extended leg and sent her sprawling.

She simply stood back up, not using her arms to help. The flip would have done a Hollywood stuntwoman proud, but her added strength and speed made it possible. She beckoned, doing her best Morpheus impersonation.

"Good punch."

"I don't think you're above Level 1. But you're decent enough for one."

"Keep insulting me; maybe I'll freeze your mouth shut."

"I'm just stating facts. Freezers do strength and some speed mainly, not full-on reflexes."

"Interesting to know. It's not just Levels, then? What about you?"

Marek jumped. His hands caught on the ceiling, propelling him back straight toward Erika. She moved out of the way just in time and countered with a quick jab at the side, augmented with a bit of cold.

"Now you're thinking. Don't try to be physical. Against a man that is Levels above you, it's close to impossible to win that way. Use your Freeze instead."

"As you said, I don't want to give you an amputation."

"Then let's make this quick."

Erika swept her leg again. This time, Marek didn't avoid the sweep. She could swear he deliberately let her trip him. He didn't even try to prevent the fall either.

She moved around the thrown table and looked as Marek put his finger on his nose, getting a bit of blood on it.

"It looks like you got me. I stand down. You win."

"Just like that…"

Erika stopped. There was a pressure inside her. The light in the room swung oddly. She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision until the lighting returned to normal. Or almost normal.

"And I lost my Level 2. I'm no longer able to Oversee. Well, Master Zacharias, if you want my loyalty, you have it."

"And I accept, Master Rataj," she answered almost distractedly, still trying to figure out what had just happened.

She gave him her hand and lifted him to his feet, even though she suspected he would not have needed much help. The combat had been very quick but without any major or even minor injuries for him. Bruises and small frostbite spots. And a bleeding nose.

"Now, what just happened? You lost something, you said?"

"You defeated me. I lost experience. Not too much, since this was a formal combat, not a real life-and-death one. But I was not much above the Level 2 threshold, it seems, so I lost that ability. At least for now. If – no, once – I get more experience with NATO, I'll get it back."

"No, I… when you said I won, I had a weird sensation."

"Oh? Did you level up when you gained experience from me? What's your Level right now?"

Erika just realized the difference once she focused inward.

"I'm… Level 2. Freezer Darksight. Whatever that means."

"Ah, Darksight. That would have been my ability at Level 3. It means you can see in the dark among things. You have a low-light sight, like the amplifier goggles your military uses. Except much better. You can see one photon at a time, but if someone put a flashlight to your eyes, you wouldn't even blink. You could look at the Sun and count dark spots without any damage to your eyes."

Marek looked at her.

"I know, not the best for pure combat. But it's very handy. Plus, of course, the side bonus of extra speed, reflexes, and some strength – not as much as Freezer – from Level. But you know what's important?"

"What?"

"Now that I am part of NATO, I can access the District information again. And I see why you came. The district to the west of us is activating, and we have about 30 hours until then."

"That's… correct."

"Then let's get to a map, and I'll see where the base will appear."

Marek moved toward the door, but the two guards placed themselves to block him.

"Mr. Rataj is coming with me."

"That's not possible. He is a terrorist suspect and must remain in custody until its disposition…"

"I'll have the proper papers done quickly for an extradition, then. But Mr. Rataj will be coming back with me to Germany under NATO's authority."





Despite her promises, Erika arrived in Germany without Marek Rataj in tow. The paperwork took too much time, and the district clock was ticking. She still had managed to get a map of Germany and they had both examined it. Marek had no problem pointing out the location of the base's emergence. The place was an old fortified castle, or Schloss, for a German Princedom, dating from the 16th​ century. A common tourist excursion.

As expected, Carolus Zimmer was slightly unhappy with her initiative of allowing the Polish Master to change his allegiance with NATO. But the real surprise came after she arrived back at base and got another call from Zimmer.

"Captain Zacharias. Or I should start saying Master Zacharias because that's probably a better title now."

"Sir."

"Your little trick with Master Rataj is turning out to be even more complicated than I anticipated when you told me of your improvisation."

"Complicated, Sir?"

"Well, remember the whole thing about your orders and Varanson's recall orders? We had… an interesting version occur. In reverse. Sort of. Human Resources division now has an unlimited duration civilian employment contract for one Marek Rataj, Polish citizen. Complete with an entry and an employee number for the computer reference database."

"A contract?"

"A standard contract for the employment of a, quote, civilian Master, starting position Level 1, unquote. Literally that. With the most interesting signature ever."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"It looks like one of those embossed holograms for authenticity. If you look at it carefully, you can see the solar system, with the planets, moon, and all that. People tell me it looks accurate for the position of all the celestial bodies as of yesterday afternoon. Presumably, when you accepted M. Rataj's offer."

"That's an interesting development, Sir."

"Interesting is a nice word. You're giving conniptions to everyone here. Again. My fellow bureaucrats don't appreciate the fact that an external agency is inserting itself into the proper organization of NATO. I suspect they've already tried to destroy that contract and erase the data. So far, they appear too ashamed to admit it doesn't work."

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 12 - SCHLOSS CHAOS​

"Hello, Max, Erika."

"Captain," Magee said.

"Told you to call me Al. Or Master if you really want to be formal. I don't think the old-style military hierarchy will survive for long for us. We're too peculiar to fit the standard mold."

"Ok… Al."

"You've been briefed about the upcoming problem?"

"Yes. Captain… Master Zacharias explained the situation to me. We have another dome coming up in western Germany this time. And we need to move to secure it quickly, in case someone else does."

"That's the gist of it," Al said, nodding toward Erika.

"I got the data we needed," she started. "An old German castle that's an old fixture of Westphalia. Master Rataj said that his friend Oskar's Oracle ability suggested fortified or military places would be the potential location of District Domes. Well, the castle qualifies; it was a German Prince's fortified headquarters. Unfortunately, it is also a popular tourist attraction there, which presents a distinct set of problems."

"I just got Zimmer on the telephone," Al continued. "Waltzing in with NATO troops is a no-no, indeed. However, headquarters negotiated an agreement with the German government incredibly quickly, so they will close down the castle tomorrow, and we will have the Bundespolizei on site to keep everyone away. It's going to be us three and no one else. Once we've confirmed it's a real District and secured it, then NATO may get the authorization to move in, but not before."

"Whelp, a week ago, I was still training with a tank, and now, I'm going undercover with German police," Max laughed.

"Dropped in the frying pan. Sorry for that," Al said.

"I'll make do. I'm still getting the hang of that fireball stuff, and you're a lot faster than I am. I need more than two minutes to throw a new plasma ball, but you can do it in almost one and a half with your Level."

"There are probably multiple factors there. The Polish Plasma Master I fought was Level 3, the same as me, but he was still a bit faster than me. Don't worry. Best case, the District pops up, we all go inside to claim it, and one hour later, we can see if they sell drinks even with the castle closed."

"It's not the best case I'm worried about," Max winced.





The bikes' engines were loud. The three NATO Masters were on the rampart, disguised as civilians, looking down at the castle's parking lot, which had been completely empty until the first bikers started to arrive.

"Now, what the fuck is going on. The castle is supposed to be closed now, so why are those guys coming."

The Bundespolizei liaison, Tobias Becker, looked dismayed at the gathering mob. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and searched among the roaring bikes. Finally, he emitted a groan.

"Officer?" Al asked.

"Those are… Bremen."

"What's a Bremen? A German hooligan?"

"No. Bremen Motorcycle Club. It was closed in the 70s because it ran all kinds of illegal stuff. Drugs and smuggling. They managed to get the interdiction reversed and operate legally, but they're trouble. Lots of trouble. They will not take kindly when we tell them to leave now because the castle is closed for the day."

"So, they're local Hells Angels?"

Becker gave the binocs to Al.

"Look at the bikes. They all have this black and white flag hanging from there. That's their insignia. Of all the things to happen, we get a Bremen meeting here today."

Al peered at the gathered bikers and swore. Both Erika and Max looked at him.

"Erika, see for yourself."

Erika immediately spotted one.

"Fuck. A Master."

Becker looked at her in confusion. Erika ignored him and looked at Al.

"Yeah. I think their arrival at this moment is too much of a coincidence. Want to bet they're a faction and have a Steward?"

"No bet. I'm counting five. Can you cross-check? Max, you too, in case we missed one," Al asked.

"Four… Five… can't see anyone else…"

"I can't either. Looks like we have five of them."

"And three of us. Let's hope they're not too high level."

"What are you talking about? What's with the Bremen? Are they here for whatever NATO will do with the Schloss?" Becker finally asked.

"Yes, we think so, Officer Becker. Max, clock?"

Max looked at his watch.

"One hour to activation. Bet they don't wait."

"No bet either. Let's wait and see what they're doing."





Karl Konig and his three wingmen turned into the old schlöss' parking lot. He immediately noted the notices posted indicating an unscheduled closure of the castle.

"What?"

Two weeks ago, he'd turned into a Master during a global meeting of the Bremen MC. In the general confusion that followed, the Bremen Motorcycle Club found itself with half a dozen awakened, with the head of the Düsseldorf chapter – Karl himself – jumping immediately to Level 3. They had tried to figure out how everything worked, but Carsten Ratenau, the one with Oracle, had managed to kill himself in a road mishap the next day. Karl was going to make sure an "accident" occurred to the stupid driver involved, but that did not replace Carsten.

The plan was simple. Christian Rosenzweig had called him two days ago with the news that, somehow, their area was activating, just like the one next door that somehow belonged to NATO, of all things. With that advance warning, they'd get there, figure out what was occurring, and secure whatever was in the schlöss. Worst case, they'd ransom it to the government. Best case, as Carsten had thought before his skull got crushed by the dumbass driver's car, they'd be able to awaken a lot more of the Bremen members as Masters, make them into true Night Warriors, and dictate their conditions.

"What you think, Gunter?" he asked as soon as he spotted the other Master approaching him.

"Says there's a leak in the castle's waste system, and it will be closed until fixed."

"Bummer. I wanted to get in with the last crowds and have an hour to go and improvise."

Christian arrived, his hair flowing behind.

"We're just under an hour. Now what?"

Karl grumbled.

"Well, we now have powers. Time to use them."





"Looks like the boss just arrived. Last, of course," Al said as a sixth Master arrived with an entourage of bikers. As the last guy parked his bike, all the assembled bikers gave a last roar before shutting down their bikes.

"So predictable," Erika said.

"What's going be unpredictable is what they're going to bring."

"31min to activation. Won't be long. They must have a Steward among them to know about the schlöss, so they'll know exactly when the activation timer finishes."

"Okay, Officer Becker…" Al finally said.

"Yes?"

"The Bremen are going to try to assault the castle."

Tobias Becker looked incredulously at Al.

"That's insane. Why would they do this?"

"Something is coming up in thirty minutes, and they want that, same as us. They are certainly not going to take no for an answer. Please inform your men to be ready for armed combat. And call for reinforcements, I think."

Becker turned.

"Wait. There's a bit more. Some of those bikers will be… a bit too much to handle for your men. That's why we are here. Help if you can, but avoid getting wounded or killed in the fight."

"What?"

"I'm betting those guys won't even blink an eye at killing Polizei, and things will be wild. Handle this as if… it was a terrorist attack."

Becker shook his head incredulously, and went to give orders to the force of policemen that had come to keep watch "in case".

"Poor guy probably thinks we're insane."

"Put yourself in his shoes, Max. We are predicting non-sensical things. Until he sees Masters in action, he won't believe anything we could say."





The gathered bikers had started to pull out an assortment of weapons. Al could see rifles and a few guns, but thankfully no real military weaponry. The mob started toward the castle, whose entrance had been hastily closed and barricaded from inside.

Two of the Bremen Masters were in front. When they reached the castle, one jumped from the bridge over the moat, landed on the wall, and started climbing.

"Sticker."

"I see it. Thinks he's going to impress us."

"We haven't stuck our heads too much above the parapet. They probably haven't noticed that three Masters are waiting for them."

The Sticker Master reached the top of the wall and flipped to the vertical, shouting, "Now, fear us, for we are the…"

He did not finish his sentence. As he realized the people in front of him were Masters, Al grabbed the ankle and pushed a maximum of fear neurotransmitters in the guy. The surprised Master jumped back in surprise… which put him out of range of the wall, and he dropped like a stone toward the moat.

"Too bad there's water in the moat."

"Can't help that. Let's open the ball. Max, throw them one so they know we're in business. Hopefully, they'll take the hint and leave."

"On it."

Max cupped his hand and launched a plasma ball toward the road. The bikers jumped en masse to escape the explosion as the ball impacted the ground.

"130 seconds, ticking," he announced.

"Ok, we're good."

A massive noise reached them. Erika looked down from the stone walkway.

"Oh shit. The door opened."

"What?"

"It's open. The barricade seems to have been thrown out."

"Probably a Master ability we don't know about. Ok, let's intercept them. Max, you're on reload for the plasma, so keep watch and get ready to move."

Both Erika and Al walked off the platform, plunging straight twenty feet below.





The mass of bikers were already pulling into the courtyard as the policemen were trying to take cover over the sporadic fire coming in. The sight of the two Masters dropping from above and landing on a straight crouch in front of them stopped the Bremen horde for a fraction of a second before someone shouted something, and a couple of Bremen flinched.

Al took the cue and dropped to the ground while Erika jumped sideways. A massive bar of wood, probably one that had been barring the entrance, went flying straight over where they had stood.

Al responded with a quick lightning bolt, shocking and dropping a pair of Bremen thugs to the ground, twitching. He rolled to the side and launched his plasma charge amid the incoming bikers. The ball traveled a short range before impacting one charging goon and exploding, sending half a dozen to the ground. Fireshots came back, and he had to duck.

Meanwhile, Erika simply froze her hands, covering them with a sheen of ultracooled ice. Even if she didn't freeze something directly, the extreme cold would cause damage to anyone her punches impacted. And the ice would act as boxing gloves, protecting her hands. She ran, jumped to the side of the wall, and fell across a pair of Bremen bikers, slapping as she came. One of them screamed as the freeze ripped at his cheek.

She pivoted as she felt… rather than saw… someone coming. She raised her fist in parry, putting every strength in the cold. So she was stunned as her new assailant reached, took her hand, and pulled. She then realized she was facing one of the Bremen Masters… and judging from the lack of effect of her freezing "gloves," another Freezer like herself, and immune to the cold. She rolled with the pull and stood immediately with the same movement.

The enemy's eyebrows rose. He punched at her and oofed as she ducked and counterpunched with all her strength. As they separated, she could see his confusion. He probably expected to overpower her with his Master-augmented strength, forgetting she'd have some. Worse, she was now a Level 2, with additional boosted strength and even more speed.

It was just like Marek told her during their sparring bout. A simple physical fight between two Masters of different Levels was not always a good idea for the lower Level unless you used your abilities to an advantage. And with both of them Freezers… and him probably a Level 1 only, she had a slight upper hand despite just Darksight.

The Bremen had also realized this. He started to walk backward, his eyes darting around to find an opportunity to escape, or an ally to help him. Erika grinned and advanced, wiggling her fingers.

"Come play, little Freezer. Come see what a real soldier can do."

She had no idea if he could understand her English. But he almost certainly understood her meaning. She started to spring when a hand reached from the side and touched her face. She blinked, halting and freezing in place as her guts seized.





Max was looking at the chaos below. Most policemen had found some protection, but several were lying on the ground, hit by the thug's bullets. And while people were shooting from all sides, the main action stayed with the Masters on the field. He could see five of them against just Al and Erika… no six. The last one was next to a wall and using a gun rather than an ability.

The countdown on Max's next plasma charge was ticking, with less than a minute remaining when he saw Erika falter and fall. The Master who had snuck to her side didn't seem to have done something. But it was apparent she had been hit by some ability he couldn't see. And the other German Master was advancing back, getting ready to hit the captain.

All this was in a fraction of a second. Without much in the way of options, Max grabbed the ledge. He wasn't as strong as his superiors but could do a controlled drop from a few feet without too much risk. Back in basic, that'd been doable. So he let himself drop and ran toward Erika's fallen form.

The sudden movement attracted the advancing Freezer's attention. Seeing his comrade move, the other biker turned toward the incoming NATO Master. They both simultaneously realized that the man coming was another Master, and dropped in a crouch. Max stopped and shook his head.

"Come on, guys. You always hit the small guy."

Tank crews like Max were usually selected for their small size. Space in a tank, even a modern one, was at a premium, so anyone close or above 5"6 was pretty much automatically disqualified. One of them looked at him and sneered.

"Komm schon, du Scheißkerl. Stell dich den wahren Nachtkriegern."

Max had no idea what taunt the German had used, but the clock was running down, and he had less than 5 seconds until the plasma became available again. He did not intend to waste a second before using it to his best effect. He grinned back evilly.





Al had his hands metaphorically full. While his plasma charge would take only 80 seconds to recycle, the lightning throws steadily depleted his charge. He rolled again, throwing a double lightning arc before landing next to Becker behind an overturned table.

"Hello, Officer."

"Who are you guys? And… what's with the Bremen?"

A pair of shining darts embedded themselves on the wall above their heads before shimmering and vanishing. Al recognized the dart projectiles as the same ones that one of the Polish Supremacy Masters had used that first night. He risked his head above the table and saw the now-wet Spiderman imitator flexing his fingers – a Level 2, then. Al ducked.

"Told you some of them would be a bit much."

"That's insane. I saw you and the other captain drop from the ramparts. And you launched a fireball. And… are you throwing lightning, too? What's going on?"

"No time for chitchat, I'm afraid. But yes, I'm doing all that. Getting low on lightning, though."

Al spotted an electrical outlet. He raised the security flap and stuck his fingers in it, to the horror of Tobias Becker. Tiny sparks came out from the outlet as he felt the charge building up back again very fast.

"Ahh, nothing like 220V to get the juice flowing again. Sorry, Officer, I've got bad guys to neutralize now. Starting with the Darter guy. Keep distracting them."

Al jumped over the table and ran straight toward the Bremen Darter, dodging a new dart flying just over his head. At his max range, he opened with an arc of lightning, which found the very wet German, sending him spasming to the ground. Al closed in and didn't hesitate to chop on the German's larynx.

The move might have been almost fatal when Al Varanson was a normal special forces soldier. With the strength of a Level 3 Master behind it, the throat caved, crushed by the overwhelming force. And Gunter Klingemann never had a chance to claim the birthright of the Night Warriors of the Bremen MC.



Al didn't interrupt his stride. The punch should have killed the Master, but there could be maybe five remaining unless Erika had dropped one or two. He couldn't see her from his position, but he couldn't afford to be distracted. He felt, rather than saw, something pass and ducked.

The thing that just missed him was a door. Someone had ripped a small door and aimed it at him. A bit too much of a feat, even for an enhanced strength. Looking back, he saw someone he recognized as the Bremen boss approaching him with a snarl.

Not only that, but the biker raised his fists, and twin flames jutted from the hands. It looked like yet another of the Polish abilities – the Burning Hands. If there were not too many different potential abilities, Al would probably have a good handle on what Masters might bring on the field, and he'd be better prepared and trained for future battles.

Meanwhile, there was work to do and a boss to fight. Now was the right time to unload. Al flashed his hand and let go of the plasma fireball. It flew straight toward the boss… who simply batted it away with his flaming hands, diverting the ball to the balcony above, where it exploded, showering the area with small rocks.

"What the fuck?"

The enemy boss grinned, apparently very happy with himself. He started weaving his hands, letting the fire trail behind them. The move looked very beautiful, but Al doubted it was very efficient.

"Lesson one: fire abilities, even different ones, don't work well against each other," he sighed.

"Could have told you that, English pig."

So, the German spoke English. An educated biker – or maybe an educated businessman, if the biker gang was anything like the American versions and ran drugs all over Europe.

"NATO pig, please, pig yourself."

"We spotted your territory to the east, with Poland. And you have now come to challenge out right? In our own territory?"

"As far as I know, you haven't claimed it yet. Besides, NATO has authority all over Germany, so fuck off on your bike."

The range being closed, Al threw a lightning arc to shock the Bremen. The German moved his hands reflexively in front of him… and the electric arc failed to find purchase on solid flesh, fizzling on the flames instead.

"Oh, come oooonnnn. That's cheating. Fire doesn't beat Electricity."

"So, your attacks mean nothing to me. See, I'm the king here. I've come to claim my throne here, in the schlöss, and won't stand in my way. Your weak flesh will fall off and burn!"

At that instant, a loud explosion sounded to the side. Both Al and the German attacker turned their head and saw two bodies flying and hitting the ground, smoking. For a fraction of a second, Al could feel their status of Masters before it disappeared, leaving no doubt about their fate. He turned back toward the "king," but the man was at his side, grabbing his left hand with his flaming right.

Al felt agony coursing into his hand. He tried to muster his Neurolyzer ability, but the hand had lost all feeling. It was worse than burning. He could feel his flesh ripping as it was simultaneously drenched in acid and burned.

"See pig? Your flesh is weak. I am power."

The grip on his hand suddenly vanished as the man's chin got impacted by a white block.





Erika's gut-wrenching feeling dropped brutally. She covered herself as bit of flaming rock fell all over. She looked around and saw Max with his hand raised. He'd just thrown a massive fireball, and her assailants had been blown out.

Now that she wasn't in the grip of the fear, she could rationally recognize that she had fallen prey to the same ability Al used, the Neurolyzer effect. One of the enemy magus had simply pumped massive fear or similar neurotransmitters into her brain, reducing her to helplessness.

She hated that feeling.

"Thanks, Max."

"Are you ok? I just feel weird, like putty. That didn't usually occur when I use Plasma."

Erika then saw Al, with a German with inflamed hands holding him. She sprung and ran, ramming herself to the side of the man. It was like hitting a truck, but her ice fist shook him. Released, Al dropped to the ground, heaving.

The man almost instantly turned back to face her as he restarted the flame in his hands. Erika snarled, bringing her own to the front and pumping more ice.

"You think you're better than your boy, ice bitch?" the Bremen said.

She taunted back: "Let's see which burns more. The absolute cold or your weak fire?"

The German put his feet over an iron bar, and the bar shot at Erika's face. She dodged it by pure reflex, thanking her enhanced speed.

Erika advanced slowly, getting worried. The guy seemed immune to Al's attacks, which meant that Max's Plasma might not help either. So it felt all to her Freeze to make the difference. She had no idea which would be more powerful, the heating or the cooling. But there were no other options.

The Bremen boss smiled. Apparently, he did feel like he had the upper – flaming – hand, and he wasn't worried about her ability. Either he knew about the relative strengths of Freeze vs Burning Hands, or he had a third ability to use against her. Given the devastating effects he had had on Al, might be the case.

He came grasping at her, and she dodged, bringing back her ice hands between them. He turned and reached again… and stopped and started steaming from the ears. She wondered what kind of ability this was for a fraction of a second, before looking down and seeing Al's right hand grasping at the German's ankle in a death grip. Small arcs of electricity ran around the grip, hinting at the amount of electrical death Al was pumping into the man.

He let it go at last, and the German fell, still smoking.

"Not fully immune," he said weakly.

Erika kneeled.

"You ok?"

They both looked at his left hand. It was… rotted. The flesh flaked, exposing yellowed muscle. Part of it was grey like it was covered in mold or something similar.

"I don't feel anything there. I… thank god he had Burning Hand up. It probably cauterized everything."

His breath was still coming up shallow, and Erika could see him becoming pale.

"I'll probably go in shock soon. But I can keep up for now. Don't worry, I'm right-handed, or my career would be over already," he joked feebly.

"Did we win?"

Erika raised her head toward Max, who was coming toward them.

"Looks like. The shooting's stopped."





Suddenly, there was a great sigh. Max and Erika looked up and spotted a great geodesic metal dome further in the courtyard.

"No special effects. It just appeared."

"No. Doesn't look like the Master System goes for flashy events, only flashy powers."

Al tried to stand, and Erika pushed him down.

"Wait for the evac. We can take it from there."

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 13 - REGROUP AND ADVANCE​

"We leave for less than a week, Weightlifter, and you break the lieut… captain. Shouldn't leave you in charge," Hector complained.

Erika refrained from a smile. The truth was, the unawakened team was relieved to hear that Al was stable in NATO's hospital in Hamburg. Not that it stopped Legs from complaining.

"And you got stronger, too? Not fair."

"Level 2. Max, too, already."

It turned out that Max's putty-like feeling after the kills of the two Bremen Magi was his new Level 2. He gained Sculptor with an ability to shape rock, stone, and almost everything non-organic solid, except apparently metal, plastics, or ceramics. Not only that but while both Al and Erika were facing the Bremen boss – one Karl Konig – he had spotted a last Master trying to sneak behind the action, lightning flashing across his fingers. So Max had simply reached through the half-blown wall section, letting rock slide over his hand, grabbed the thug's head, and pulled him by surprise. The guy had tried to use his Lightning against Max, causing him to lose his grasp from the shock. The wall simply froze over the German's head, causing him to choke to death, buried in solid rock.

"No one saw Maximinus perform before," Hector said, and the Master rolled his eyes at the nickname. They had wasted no time distorting his diminutive stature into a "mandated special force handle."

"We'll see how he does on the course," Carl "Baseball" Johnson added.

"Course?" Max asked.

"You didn't show it to him, Weightlifter?"

"We didn't have time, Carl. Straight from awakening to capturing a new Dome."

"How did it work?"

"Outside of another faction showing up… simple."

Max and Erika had stepped inside and waited while reinforcements poured following the fight. At one point, someone told them that Al had been medevaced, which lifted a bit of concern from her shoulders. Then the claim progress bar cleared, and just like that, NATO found itself with a second District Dome to its name.

The Schlöss itself was now permanently closed to the public. The wreckage of the battle was being cleared, but it was challenging to hide the fact that more than a dozen policemen had been killed in action, with close to forty Bremen bikers dead or wounded as well. Journalists kept trying to get into the castle, and the skies above had to be interdicted against civilian helicopters and drones. A huge tarp covered the District Dome, but it was better not to risk discovery.

"So, two."

She nodded.

"And still we have to calibrate the new pop-ups."

Hector raised an eyebrow.

"You missed that, Legs. Having a second District to your faction gave us new options. We didn't play with the Interface back there, but Bergholz's staff was surprised when they found a new panel option in the Interface list. You can access the summary map of any district of the faction from any base. We still need staff on site because the rest of the Schlöss displays remain available only from the local Dome."

"So, that's the name," Hector said.

"Unofficial, sure. Until the next Districts."

The main interest from the Schlöss map was the new adjacent districts. The Schlöss' position allowed a view of the South United Kingdom district which enclosed the lower half of the island, up to slightly above the limit of Adrian's Wall and the one nicknamed Burgundy, which had western Belgium, over two-thirds of France, and parts of Switzerland.

"Now, excuse me, I must call the brass – even if he's civilian."



"So, we're not sure about the Bremen," she said.

"The investigations are still ongoing. But a dozen bikers escaped this… massacre," Carolus replied. "The Bundespolizei is still interrogating the survivors they arrested, and they're not all cooperating. And you said there is no way to identify a deceased Master."

"Positive, Sir. The recognition effect vanishes. It's also a good way to tell if they're still alive."

"Well, the Germans are not very hopeful in identifying them and arresting them. But apparently, they're happy about having an excuse to make the whole gang illegal again."

"Which means the faction still exists, for all purposes."

"Well, who knows? If the gang is illegal, can they still recruit people and awaken them? Only five of the Masters are confirmed, and you said six. So one might still be out there."

"Future problem," she winced, although it didn't go over the phone.

"If it's the only one we have, I'll be happy. But I'm guessing there are a lot of those hidden factions around. NATO is only coming to the field late."

"But we have two Districts now."

"We do. Thanks to your efforts."

"Al paid a heavy price. How is he, by the way? I haven't called Hamburg."

"Well, after he landed in Hamburg, there were cries of horror from the medical staff. They'd never seen anything like that or how he could still be alive."

"He thought the Bremen Master cauterized him."

"Doctor Vanhersh isn't a specialist in burns, but there are many of those around. It's a NATO hospital, after all. He's stable, and they're hopeful. But the depth of damage was horrid."

"Master Rataj mentioned the Polish Supremacy's best fighter would get something called Necrotic. That looks like it. We should ask him."

"Still trying to get him released by Poland. Paper and tricks. It just takes time. By the way, I got a message from him."

"Really?"

"He's got his Level 2 back and has recovered his previous Overseer ability. Based on the timing, it looks like when you claimed the Schlöss Dome."

"Interesting. So you can gain something across the entire faction by doing that? Only Max got a Level, but that was during the fight when he killed two of the enemy Masters."

"It's so slow getting information. I would have never worked in Intelligence; that frustrates me," Carolus chuckled lightly.

"Maybe the next recruit will have Oracle?"

"We'll see. Sergeant Camino has gotten his orders and should arrive at Bergholz within one or two days."

"Max and I will be ready for him. We have three abilities to demonstrate to try to awaken, assuming he's latent and the gene indicator is not a coincidence."

Carolus laughed.

"We've asked for DNA from the Polizei. As soon as I get that, we will have more data points. But Vanhersh says the gene is so rare, having a dozen people with it and being Masters is almost certainly a correlation."

"We'll see, then."





"Okay, may I introduce you to Sergeant Julio Camino, our newest Master," Erika said.

"Welcome to the club, Sergeant," Hector said. "We're not Masters – obviously – but we're there to instill the virtues and qualities that will bring the best of your abilities."

"About that… Well, Master Camino?"

"I'm only Level 1, and I got something called Eight Color."

"Does this have anything with that Terry Pratchett BBC movie?" Carl asked.

Seeing the confused look from the Portuguese soldier, he waved away.

"It seems to be an infrared perception ability. It's almost psychedelic; I can see imprints from people and engines and stuff all over the place. And it's not a color. I mean, it's like a color, but not a color like any we know. It's not red, it's… well, infrared."

"Maybe it's not very impressive. But you have the Master package, right?"

"The Master package?" the sergeant asked.

"They didn't tell you? Let's check you."

Hector grinned evilly and gestured toward the first of the gym's machines. He started to pile on weights on the pull-up.

"Wait a minute, is that a joke…" Julio started.

Erika refrained a smile and moved aside as Carl and Hector moved to introduce the Level 1 Master to the enhancements he'd just got compared to earlier in the morning.

She called out to them, "Legs, don't forget to ask for previous capacity. The doctors want their data."

She and Max exited the gym.

"I wasn't even used to the Level 1 levels, and I jumped up already," he said.

"We can still run the course without looking too bizarre."

"I tried it, and it's still a bit challenging, but not that much. I didn't get that much strength when it goes to lift."

"It's curious that each ability seems to add different boosts. I'm getting to men's world records with the bench."

"Sculptor seems to be more about speed. The treadmill doesn't have enough range. And we're forbidden to test on the outdoor track."

"Colonel Murchison still defers to the headquarters on that."

Max shrugged, then laughed.

"What?"

"I just realized, a week ago, I was not a Master. And here I'm chatting and comparing progression as if it was the most normal thing."





"Welcome to Master Force headquarters, Mr. Zimmer."

"I thought my office was the headquarters, Master Zacharias."

"Well, Master Force main base, then."

Erika then noted the figure coming out of the car that had brought Carolus Zimmer to Bergholz Base.

"Master Rataj! At last."

The Polish Master smiled as if it was the most natural thing.

"It took an abysmally long time. Germany made an extradition request since the attack occurred on their territory – never mind the extraterritoriality rules – and we pushed this along until Poland caved. Then, Germany remanded him to NATO for custody. We had to lie a little bit on this, but Brussels has enough lawyers on hand to tell them to… how do you say it? Pound sand."

She lifted an eyebrow to indicate surprise, and Marek pulled up his pant leg, showing the blinking device attached to his ankle.

"They insisted. Since the German police authorities are not informed about the Master System, they won't believe I'm not going to run away or something."

"And I must admit we only have your word that you are indeed loyal to NATO," Carolus added.

Marek merely shrugged.

"I know I'm not trusted, but you still are wasting one of your few Masters."

"We are still evaluating how to make the best use of presence, Master Rataj. Until then, we will remain cautious," he replied.

"Up to you. I'm not going anywhere. You'll find a way to make use of my abilities."

"Well, we are off to visit the dome. There are three Masters to keep you in check, so I think the base command should be mollified enough to let you in."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Colonel Murchison is waiting for us there," Erika added.



As they walked across the growing base, Erika let herself fall slightly behind to walk along Marek.

"I admit I have my doubts, too. The faction loyalty system isn't…"

"Brainwashing?"

"That."

"You know, I was born in Boston."

She almost stopped.

"I can lie. I'm free to do what I want. It's just that I can't act in a manner that is detrimental to the interests of NATO."

"But are you the arbiter of those? If you were given an order, can you disobey it?"

Marek was silent for a few seconds.

"I think that if I had a very, very good reason to think it was not in the interests of NATO, I would. We're not automatons or slaves."

"Except for the can't leave part, you mean."

"That's why we have to defend NATO. The only way we leave is dead or forced to join a different faction, and it will be the same."

"And you're happy with that?" she asked, pushing.

"I would have preferred…" he stopped, wincing.

"Can't go back," she guessed.

"No. I had to persuade myself that a stronger NATO could be good for Poland, and thus the Polish Supremacy, that you were not going to help the faction if I won, I would remain locked in prison and unable to recruit, just to let me lose, and I had to make it fast once I told you about it. The Master System would not puppet me or anything, but I would have been extremely uncomfortable trying to destroy my faction, as small as it was."

Erika went silent, digesting the information.

"By the way, where is your colleague? It would have been even easier if I had fought him."

"We fought over that other District, which I came to you for. Another faction, German bikers. We won, but Al was grievously wounded. I suspect Necrotic – the attack rotted and melted his flesh. You had one Master with some kind of acid…"

"Maciej. Acidic – it's simply a powerful acid, and like sweating sulfuric acid at will. All Oskar knew about Necrotic was that it would act on flesh only, rot, and destroy. Inorganic or even plant matter would be untouched. Not enough time for Cyrek to get it and figure exactly how it worked."

"Well, at least Al is okay. At first, the doctors thought it would need amputation, even with the cauterization, but after two days, his flesh was closing over the wreckage. Got a text message from him this morning, he says he's bored, his hand is already covered in pink baby skin over a skeletal version of his former hand. I give the staff in Hamburg a couple more days before he checks himself out and heads back here," she laughed.

"Interesting."

"You didn't know? About the regeneration effect?"

"No. I don't think Oskar suspected this could be a thing. But it is good to know that a Master regenerates from wounds as long as they don't kill you."



Both Carolus Zimmer and Marek Rataj stopped after crossing the dome palisade. The dome seemed brand new, even if it had stood there for over two months. With its regenerative properties… even rain didn't seem to stick to it.

"So that's what my friends gave their life for."

Erika stayed silent. No sense in rubbing salt over the wounds. Marek was now a NATO Master, after all.

Colonel Murchison was waiting for them next to the District Dome and walked briskly to greet them.

"Welcome to Bergholz District Base, Mr. Zimmer."

"You've got a good setup."

"We've slowed the expansion for now. Trying to commandeer the land around to build a defensive perimeter in depth will take time."

"Pesky civilians?"

"The village next door is already trying to figure out how to deal with all that expansion. We don't have in-house recreation facilities, and the local pub isn't enough for the influx."

"Well, that is more of your problem than mine. Your base, for now, is merely the host of our Masters, and we have five of them now. For now, let's see this dome. I've seen pictures and clips, but that's not the same."

"After you."

The group entered the dome and paused as everyone started to take in the multi-view holographic display with its alien-looking script. For Erika and Max, the view was now familiar. But Camino had been around for barely three days, and Marek had been kept away from the new heart of the Bergholtz base.

What Erika had not anticipated was the shout coming from one of the monitoring stations. She moved there, recognizing the ever-present Nikolaj sliding back and forth on his local display. She looked at the minor panel and immediately realized what had excited him.

"Erika! A timer panel just appeared in that section. But I can't make head or tail about it. It's not a nearby district, and the clock is all wrong."

"Ok, let me see it… what's that…"

The panel seemed to show a District view but not one of the adjacent districts she knew by heart now. From the shape… if you turned it a bit, it looked like the Mediterranean border… It seemed to be a part of North Africa. But two things were surprising. The first was that the "activation timer" seemed already at something like… 35 minutes. But the main difference was that the panel listed what she translated in her head as: "Steward-enabled view."





"Marek?"

"Yes?"

"Can you step outside of the dome for a minute?"

"Hmmm, yes, but…"

"Don't ask. Just leave, wait a bit, then I'll call you back."

At the instant where Marek's foot left the inside of the dome, the district timer panel vanished, then was replaced by the default starting panel two seconds later. She quickly scrolled across the views to confirm that the panel was nowhere in sight.

"Ok, Marek, you can come back."

"Master Zacharias? What are you trying to do?"

"I'm checking something, Mr. Zimmer."

With Marek back inside, Erika went back to selecting panels. Two sported the "enabled" label, and the district activation North African panel was back.

"Ok, new information seems to be available when we have a Steward Master present in the Control Base."

"What do you mean?"

"It looks like when Marek is inside the dome, new information panels become available. And apparently, it extends the range of the view. Marek? What's your District range normally? Do you get North-West Africa something?"

"Hmmm, no. Not from this district. I get two districts distance now that I'm back at Level 2, so I have Italy or Spain, but no further, but…"

"But?"

"You are right. It seems my range has increased a bit. There is a North African district that is… activating? In half an hour?"

Carolus Zimmer's head had been going back and forth to follow the exchange, but the mention of an activating district stopped him.

"There's a new district activating?"

"It looks like. Until Marek was in the dome, we had no way of checking it, though, so we missed it. But this one is in northern Africa, outside of NATO's sphere. And it's activating in 30 minutes from now."

"But can we claim it?" Zimmer insisted.

"I don't see why not. As long as we have a Master inside the dome, without an opposing team, we get the claim on it. But that's Algeria or Morocco…"

She looked at Marek, but the Steward was already looking over the technician's laptop and pointing something out on-screen.

"I have a few calls to make. But barring problems, I'll get you dropped wherever it is, you lay claim, then we solve the diplomatic situation. If nothing else, the claim will prevent rogue Masters from appearing in that area for a while."

"There might be some waiting for us. We're late, and if it's claimed by someone else, we won't be able to get it except by fighting over it like the first two. And I'd rather not without Al around. I mean, I could do it, but we only have three Levels worth of combat abilities, so we're half strength. No offense, Julio and Marek", she apologized.

"No problem," the Portuguese laughed.

"We'll see. Now get ready. Master Rataj, find me the exact location of the incoming base, and we'll get you there as soon as possible."

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 14 - COUNTRY OF THE DJINN​

The NH90 helicopter started lifting from the Bergholz pad. Erika looked briefly at the side where Colonel Murchison was watching them go. She would have waved a bit if it wasn't unprofessional. She looked back at Carolus Zimmer, who was definitively not in his element in the troop transport.

"You could have taken back the car," she said reassuringly over the loud noise of the helo's engines.

"This shaves me at least two hours since we're headed in the right direction. I suspect I will have to be very busy very soon, seeing as this base is in Morocco. I have more tools back in Brussels… and I suspect I will be very late there as soon as my plane lands there," he said, looking toward Marek Rataj.

"I don't choose. I just report."

"And you can't check if it's claimed."

"Outside of the Dome, I don't have the same range. Besides, I can't tell if someone's there until it is actually claimed, and this takes time. I had no warning until I lost access when your claim on Bergholz was resolved two hours after most of Polish Supremacy had been killed. I couldn't tell who it was until Erika told me you were NATO," the Steward replied.

"Once you move to the next District, we'll get it back in range," Erika pointed out to Carolus.

"Good to know."

The helicopter was now flying at his top speed westward toward Hamburg. Bergholz had no landing strip for military planes, at least not yet. Carolus Zimmer had spent the last thirty minutes trying to get them transported on short notice. Erika had no idea how that would work.

Their target had been identified as an early 20th​-century colonial fort, straddling the border between Morocco and Algeria. The fort had already been abandoned by World War 2, and nobody had bothered with it since. It was not even a tourist attraction or anything like that, and their maps didn't seem to include a road. At best, there would be a track.

She wanted to take the opportunity to talk with her boss, but she decided against it. He was already trying to use his phone, but the device didn't seem to be cooperative. They were probably not in the best position for cellular smartphones.

He finally admitted defeat and sank into the helicopter seating. The NATO-issue troop transport had enough room for them and spare. She looked at the others. Even without Master indicators, she suspected separating the special forces from the others wouldn't be too challenging. Max and the new guy, Julio, were clearly not the same cut. Although they both would be physically at or above the best of them, the habits of helicopter travel were something you needed to acquire, and it showed. She was probably no better.

"At least you're there this time," she called to Hector.

"Not the same without the… captain."

"He'll be back soon."

"He'll be pissed he missed it."

She laughed.

"We're all catching up to him. Two for me and Max, two for you all, two for him."

Hector laughed back.

She tried to relax. One hour of travel.





"What the hell is that," she asked when she discovered their ride.

It looked way weird. Even Al's team was taken aback.

"It looks like a proper superhero plane," Carl noted.

"Stealth VTOL," the guy coming at them announced.

"What? No way?"

Apparently, NATO had a stealth VTOL transport. Some contractors had worked with the old UK Vertical Takeoff planes and gave one model some stealth systems. It wasn't a good fighting plane, and a fuel guzzler, but it was serviceable for covert troop transportation.

Given that they were headed out on a secret mission to a non-aligned nation, it was, in fact, the perfect thing.

"We'll get you there fast enough. We can cross the Med no problem; we'll need to refuel in Spain on the way back, but we should be fine."

Despite the VTOL part, the plane lifted almost normally and turned south.

"Still out of range," Marek announced. "I'm probably getting it once we enter that French District."

She absently nodded back and started trying to relax again. They had probably two hours. She fretted for a few minutes before standing and heading to the cockpit.

"You have full transmissions? Can we call the headquarters in Brussels?"

"Sure. Need someone specific?"

"Not yet. My boss will probably not have arrived yet. But once we land, we probably will have to report."

"Satellite coverage everywhere, even at our destination. Don't worry. We can even call him on his normal phone if it's not too classified. By the way…" the pilot hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

The pilot was probably curious about why he had a mission to drop a bunch of mixed troops – and one civilian – in the middle of nowhere between Morocco and Algeria.

She went back to try to relax. Al's team was already half-snoring. Max and Julio were chatting, and Marek was gazing nowhere in the distance.



As their transport approached, Marek confirmed that, so far, the District had been unclaimed by any faction for the three hours since activation.

"No changes, Marek?"

"None, Erika. We're coming up on the base, 5 min from it now, I think, and the district is still clear."

"I was worried when you said your ability had shut down."

"It was… very strange. As soon as we went over the Mediterranean, I stopped feeling anything. It was as if we were in a district but entirely disconnected from anything. It felt like when I was still Polish Supremacy within the NATO zone, except I could feel the district, tell its shape. Just nothing adjacent. We were… sort of unconnected to the rest of the System. For a while. But it's back now."

"Our abilities still worked."

"They're about you. Mine are… about the Master System itself."

"And your range?"

"Back to basic. From what it looks like, I can sense up to one district per Level over my Steward, plus one additional if I'm within NATO territory. And plus one if I'm in a NATO Base dome."

"So you can… map Northern Africa from here?"

"There seems to be a lot of Districts there. I'll probably reach up to Egypt and Central Africa once we have the Dome under control."

One of the pilots ducked his head through the door.

"Coming up on target, we're landing soon."

She looked on as the pilot started looping around the fort, searching for a flat area to land on. Just because it was a VTOL did not mean it could land anywhere.





"Of course, it couldn't be that simple," she complained.

As the four Masters were traipsing across the rocky desert, along with the squad, they spotted a lone figure wrapped in the usual deep blue clothing of the desert Berber tribes. The man – probably – was seated at a small campfire where a kettle was brewing. And was also a Master.

"Marek?"

"No change in status. The district is active and still unclaimed."

"So what is this Master doing here?"

"No idea."

They stopped 30 feet from the campfire.

"Hello," she tried.

The man rose and turned to face them, bowing deeply.

"I can speak your English. I would welcome you, but not in this forsaken place cursed by Allah."

"Cursed?"

"As I am. As you are, since I can see you four have been cast down by Allah."

The NATO Masters looked at each other, slightly baffled. Erika decided to keep the man talking.

"Why do you think you're cursed."

"For we are but Jinni. The cursed spirits of the desert, clad in the shape of man. Solomon the Mighty bound the spirits of the desert, but they have escaped. They have refused the teachings of Allah and are cursed for it. And I now am infused with the Jinn and partake of their strength and their curse."

"Do you know what lies behind you?"

"A Jinn palace, the heart of the curse. I have felt it coming, and I came here to prevent men from entering this cursed place. None should go further."

Erika sighed internally. Of course, the Master would not let them pass. She had no idea how powerful this Master was, but she hoped the team would be enough, even if Marek and Julio would simply have their enhanced strength. She shared a look with Max and raised her fist, gathering frost in the desert afternoon. Max reached down and dragged a spear-like shard of fused sand out of the ground, then started pulsing the plasma in his left hand.

The shrouded man looked at the team and merely folded his arms.

"If you are truly lost to the glory of Allah and willing to use the powers of the Jinn, then there is nothing to be gained in casting you down. My task was to prevent men from being cursed, but you already are. We will meet again. On Yawm al-Din, the day of Judgement when our kind faces Allah the Merciful. Go on then."

Erika looked at Max, confused. Did the man just… concede? Without even using his own strength? But the Berber stood aside, and the team went toward the half-buried fort behind. Erika kept looking behind, expecting some trickery, but found none.





The Control dome was in the center of the fort's courtyard. Unlike the Bergholz and the Schlöss, it looked bronze-looking rather than a steel/titanium tint. But it had the same shape, size, and small ditch around. This one was dry, though. There was not much rain around, after all, and clearly not enough time to collect some in any case.

They entered as Hector and the rest of the squad spread to check if the fort ruins were genuinely deserted. As they came in, the interfaces lit up, with the single panel intended for the claim. The small progression bar began immediately filling. Unlike the Schlöss, it seemed it would require around 55 minutes to complete. The mere act of having just NATO Masters barging in was enough to lay claim to the base.

"Now, what was that?"

"No idea. I heard some Africans can be… weird. But that guy was convinced we were… Jinn? Djinns? Like the magic lamp guys in Aladdin?" Max asked.

"I have no idea how the local tribes think about magic. But if you start doing magic, maybe you could think you're possessed by a djinn."

"He was a Steward at the very least. He said he could feel the activation and knew exactly where to come. But I don't think he was just Level 1. He must have had some other ability to make him think of djinns."

"Do you think he's alone?" she asked.

Marek thought about it for a few instants.

"If he says he belongs to the Jinni, then it must be a faction of one."

"Why?"

"If you need to be a djinn – a Master – to join, then unaffiliated Masters will be difficult to recruit. There's only so long before you formally claim to belong to something."

Hector put his head in the dome.

"All clear, Weightlifter. No one's been there for decades."

"We'll be there for an hour or so, Legs. Want to watch?"

"Did it once, it's boring."

Erika had to laugh.

"True. Time for books."

The four Masters settled down to wait until the claim finished.





"Claim complete," Marek announced, and Erika looked up, snapping her used paperback closed.

"Got your extended range?"

Marek nodded.

"Let me check the map here."

She spent a minute checking the district list, pulling up the local maps including the Steward-enabled ones, and taking pictures – the holograms rendered nicely on digital – to get a map of the local district topology. Marek observed carefully.

"No other active Districts. It's time we caught a break. Too bad I have zero reception here. I'll call Zimmer once we're back on the plane."

"What do we do now?" Max asked.

"The boss says, we secure the fort and leave. Technically, it's a military op in a non-NATO nation without permission."

"That's not good," he said.

"That's why we're not to leave even a token guard here. Getting the District claimed was the priority. Now, Brussels will work diplomatic channels to get someone to watch over there, but that's for the future."

They exited the Dome, pushing the door closed. Like the other, it was a very modern-looking push handlebar but without any lock.

"Done?"

"Yes, Legs. Get everyone, we're moving out."

"I hate leaving that thing unguarded. Who knows what will happen?"

"We can monitor it remotely."

"With my extended range, you mean?" Marek asked.

"Not even that. All Domes can access the default map of the others. So, if someone comes in and lays claim to the Dome, we'll know immediately."

"Ah, good. I was worried I'd have to camp under the Dome permanently."

"No. If you check in at least once daily to get the extra range for other activating Districts, that'll be good. If all take two days and a half to activate, that is."

"So, we leave Sahara to the hands of fate," Hector said.

"Sahara?"

"The Dome needs a name, right? Preempting it."

When they left the fort, they saw the Berber Master had packed his kettle and put bags on a mangy camel that had been sitting on the shade of the fort. Erika waved to him.

"Who are you?" she asked this time.

"I am Amastan Baddour. I wish you did not, but still, I have to congratulate you on your success."

The Berber stopped, looking surprised, and then bowed.

"And my deeds are recognized, as I suddenly no longer feel anything about Allah's curse on the land. Perhaps one day, my burden will be entirely lifted. Until then…"

The man waved his hand lazily, and a swirl of wind rose, dispersing the campfire's ashes. He put his feet down and smoothed out the firepit, whose hole vanished as if the rock had flowed inward. Then he took the camel by the bridle, and started trotting alongside to the east. The Master team stared after the unlikely pair. The beast seemed to have difficulty keeping up with its master… who would have the extreme physical abilities of a Master.

"Well. What do you think?" she finally said.

"A Level 3. At least. Must be a Sculptor like me, but I have no idea about the wind thing. You?" Max said to Marek.

"I noticed he lost his Steward ability. If I interpret the comment about feeling nothing at all correctly."

"About that… I just got one of those weird feelings, like the time we sparred in that prison, Marek. Except I just got it right now, instead of when we went in."

"You leveled again? Concentrate on yourself, what do you feel?"

"Oh, right. Level 3 Freezer Darksight Kinetic."

"A very good one. Cyrek had it. You can accumulate kinetic energy and release it to throw and launch things around by simply touching them. Try not to push out our plane, though. I don't know how that works if you're inside what you're pushing. And congratulations, Master Zacharias."

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 15 - LEVELS, LEVELS EVERYWHERE!​

The small motorcade carrying the four Masters and the special forces team arrived mid-morning at the gate to Bergholz District Base. After refueling as promised in Spain and landing back in Hamburg, it had been too late for anything else, and they'd found lodging at the airbase. Unlike the emergency flight, they couldn't get a helicopter ride across northern Germany, so they'd gotten on regular ground transportation.

Erika had reported to voice mail; Zimmer had yet to return to Brussels. In the morning, she got a call as they were getting onboard the three cars.

"Sir? Good to hear you. I'll send the full report as soon as we arrive to Bergholz."

"Nice to hear you didn't have complications."

"Well, there was one… except it wasn't. I took snapshots of the geography of the nearby districts. I think we need maps to prepare for future districts."

"Good thinking. This North African district got us by surprise. If we didn't have Master Rataj… we would have missed it completely."

"About that. I understand why we claimed the Schloss, but this is entirely outside NATO. We don't even know what to do with the districts."

"Master Zacharias. What do you think NATO does? It's a defense organization in case of military attack, first and foremost, but it's also an organization devoted to preventing or resolving major crises that threaten our members' stability and interests. NATO recognizes the existence of super-powered individuals who can use overpowering abilities as a potential threat and a developing crisis. This district's ability to prevent anyone from awakening Master abilities is a key to our defense for this. Right now, we have another area secure where threats will not arise."

"Oh, I hadn't thought about it like that."

"We have to see this strategically. Not just how a Master Force is a new kind of special force in our repertoire. You are important if, say, ISIL or another hostile group starts using Masters to attack NATO assets like the Polish Supremacy attempted. But it's more important to ensure they do not have the opportunity to do so. Ever."

"I see it now, Sir."

"As for District thing goes, send someone straight to the dome when you land at Bergholz. I got a call from the base that when you claimed the Desert district, they not only got the new status map for that specific district but also another panel appeared. And of course, the translation system still can't figure it."

"I'll have Julio see about it. Report to write and all."

"Life is fleeting, but administration is eternal."

She blinked at the phone, but Zimmer had hung up already.





Julio Camino still felt nervous about the whole Master thing. The Eight Color thing still tripped him when he saw hand prints and weird coloring all over. He felt inadequate compared to the captain and the other sergeant, with ice hands, fireballs, and stone weapons. The only thing that made him feel ok was when they showed him how he now had Olympic strength and world-record running speed.

The Control dome was not too crowded. The control crew kept the two side panels locked to fixed separate views and let the computer keep track of it, with a set cycle every hour to check if something changed. Nobody had figured out how to interface their computers with whatever ran the thing, so they had to rely on human operators to change views and cameras to record, analyze the pictures, and reconstitute the information in plain English and real-time for their benefit.

Seeing the stick writing and knowing what it said was almost the least weird thing now, even if it didn't translate into Portuguese.

Right now, everyone was gathered around the large panel which was reserved for testing. When Julio entered, everyone cheered him.

"At last! We've got our savior!"

"Hey, guys, let me breathe first. The boss said you had new stuff to translate. You're Nikolaj, right?"

"Yes. We have a new panel in the main shuffle view. It looks sparse so far, but who knows? Is the Polish guy around? Maybe he will unlock more data, like he did earlier."

"No idea where he is. He said he was going to find his quarters since he didn't have time yesterday with the sudden district thing. The captain asked me to look at that panel. Is that it?"

"Yes. Can you point out every piece of data, and translate it in English and then Portuguese, please. We'll record everything, and hope our model will adjust."

"Your computer can translate? I still have no idea how I understand all of this or even how it's organized. It just feels natural. The way Portuguese does. I even have to translate it back from Portuguese to get the English version."

"The computer works ok even with fuzzy stuff. Specialists have looked over the model it has built, and they think the stick blocks are syllables rather than letters, but nobody has any good idea about how it's structured. Or the real grammar. It's like trying to understand English grammar by looking at the Houston mission control room."

"Ok, the… main part is North Atlantic Treaty Organization…"

"We got that. It's identical to the status mention for the districts."

"The next is… control level 3?"

"Control. Level. We have the numbers figured out, but the labels are garbage. Control level. It might be, I dunno… the number of Districts? We have three, after all. Does control level evoke… another feeling? Al said the things don't exactly translate word for word, so the meaning is sometimes indirect."

"Hmm, let me see. It feels like home. Where I lived before joining. It's… ownership? Property?"

"Sounds like a District counter then. We're controlling three."

"The next is… something like loyalty? Affiliated? Associated? It's got two numbers, major and minor things. Major 6, minor… let me see, the number seems off somehow…"

"It's in base 12. If Major is 6, then the other is around 27,200. It's increased twice since you claimed that district, and we learned about the panel. Any deeper feeling about what it means?"

"Not really."

"The last part, if we understand how the panels are structured, seems to have lots of empty room."

"Ok, this one seems to be… something about power levels. It has total, and… oh, locked."

"Ah. Locked. We never had a 'locked' mention anywhere yet. Good, good. So, power. Level. Total."

"Levels. It feels like a plural."

"Ok, plural. That's weird. The computer says it's exactly the same symbol assembly as the control level. Are you sure it's different?"

"Positive. It feels like the sum of some things rather than a single number. That and the total thing."

"Ok. So Loyalty. Major 6, minor 27,200. Power level, it's 13. Let's figure out what this refers to."

Julio started thinking. The loyalty thing made him think about the Master affiliation thing… Minor was a huge number compared to Major, though… and the power level thing… He started adding things in his head…

"Nikolaj? I know about the 4 Masters on base and the guy who got injured. Do we have another Master stationed somewhere else?"

"No. It's just you five, as far as I know. Why?"

"I think I have a possible idea what this 6 and 13 might mean… and if you say there's only 5 NATO Masters, there might be a problem."

"Are you saying that?..."

"I think the panel is telling us there are 6 Masters affiliated with NATO. Out of 27200 non-Masters. And for a total of 13 Levels. But that doesn't match 5 and with 11 Levels in total. I need to see Captain Zacharias right now."





Erika was at her desk, hunched over the computer, putting the last touch to her report on the Desert District operation when there was a knock on the door. She raised her head as a familiar face came into view.

"AL! You're back!"

"They finally let me go. Of course, I implied I'd simply jump through the window if they didn't agree. After all, it's only the third floor. I could almost drop from that back in the force without problems."

"How's the hand?"

Al raised the hand. It looked very pinkish and a bit thin, but there was no trace of the horrible charring and melting that she'd last seen back when they loaded him in the helicopter at the Schloss. He wriggled his fingers a bit.

"Not as good as new, but that probably won't be long before it's fully fleshed."

"So we Masters are indestructible."

"Not unkillable, but it's good to know that if we survive a fight, we can probably heal anything. I'm also hoping for flu immunity. Although there's a downside…"

"What?"

Al pulled his shirt sleeve and pointed at the top of his bicep. Erika saw a faint blueish trace of something.

"What's that?"

"That used to be my tat. Got it after I passed the entrance to the special forces. An eagle flying over a helmet. But it's almost entirely gone."

"Looks like it got treated like a wound?"

"Lots of scars are gone as well. When my body went overdrive to heal the hand, it also healed everything. Vanhersh checked, and I have my appendix."

"You had it removed?"

"When I was 17. The scar was gone, all right, but the appendix might still be gone – no such chance. Of course, that probably means I also don't have to worry about it blowing up again. Vanhersh is already asking that we send back any wounded to Hamburg immediately, even if it's light."

"Bloody German doctors. It's good to have you back. You missed our trip to Sahara."

"I heard about that one. I may still thank you for that one."

"About what?"

"Let me show you. Can you lock the door?"

"Is this an indecent proposition already, Captain Varanson?"

"No, with me outside."

"Okay."

Erika turned the key, locking the door. Then looked, not knowing what to expect. The handle went down… and the door opened.

"What the?"

"Didn't have to try to pick the lock. I simply opened the door."

"Have you… when did you gain a Level?"

"You said the Polish guy you beat regained his Level when we claimed the Schlöss. Possibly because everyone in the faction gains something when you claim a new District. When you claimed that desert one, it was enough to push me up to the next. So I even knew when you got the District."

Al flexed his hands.

"I'm Level 4 now. Add… Gatekeeper to my abilities."

"Gatekeeper?"

"I can open any door, no matter how locked. I think that's what we saw in the Schlöss. That door was barricaded; there was no way someone could open it without explosives or something… unless you're a Gatekeeper."

"Damn you."

"Uh?"

"I just got Level 3 from yesterday, when that Master admitted defeat. I was going to taunt you. And now you're pulling ahead again."

"Admitted defeat?"

"Let me tell you about it…"





Julio nearly ran into the MF building. It took time to get there, even with extra speed, although he appreciated that he wasn't getting winded yet. He immediately saw an unknown captain's back, standing at Erika's door.

"Captain?"

"Yes? Yes?" answered both officers. Julio also noticed that he was a Master. The… no, that was certainly the Captain Varanson then.

"Sorry, Captain Zacharias, I meant."

"You must be the new Master, Camino. I'm Varanson. Call me Al."

"Sir. Welcome."

"You wanted to see me, Julio?" Erika asked.

"Yes. I've looked at the control panels you wanted me to see, and there's a development. A possible problem."

"No breaks. I'd appreciate it if we could have a few weeks… or even days… without a new Master-related problem springing upon us. So what have you found?"

Julio explained about the panel, which seemed to be a faction general status report. He brought up his hypothesis that the two statistics shown might be the number and Levels of NATO Magus, with an unknown Level 2 Master around.

"Well, not a Level 2. A Level 1, then. Al just told me he's Level 4 from when we got the Desert district."

"You got a new ability?"

"Yes, the big boy just did. I thought I had caught up with him, but he's got ahead again. I'll get you, Al. Watch yourself."

"I can still show off. See for yourself, Julio."

Al brushed lightly Julio's shoulder. To his immense surprise, he felt perked. Like he'd get after the morning coffee. He had been tired after the round trip to the Sahara, but it felt better.

"That's my Neurolyzer. I can pump you full of all kinds of neurothingies. It's not just an attack ability."

"That's… nice."

Julio suddenly realized that he could feel a bit more. Captain Varanson was before him, but he felt he was there with a bit more than just the sight. Not only that, but…

"Hey, what happened to you? I was going to say that I can even see your Level now that I'm a four, but all of a sudden, I can't."

"You can't… but. It's confusing. I mean, I do know you're Level 4… but I don't know Captain Zacharias…"

"Erika."

"Erika. I don't know Erika's Level."

"What do you mean, you don't know my Level? We discussed it when I leveled in Sahara."

"No, not like that. I get…"

Julio extended his hand to Erika's shoulder.

"Whoa."

"I'm fearful when I hear a Master say 'Whoa.' Did you just… level?"

"I think so. I touched you, and suddenly, I could see your Level 3. And… yes, you're right. I'm Level 2 EightColor Overseer."

Al thought quickly: "Marek's an Overseer. He mentioned it when we were interrogating him. Something about tracking other Masters."

"And I just realized something."

Both men turned to Erika.

"If you leveled just right now, we have a way of testing if the total power number is what you think it is."





"Hello again, Sir."

"Greeting, Master Varanson. Out of the hospital already?"

"Hand is almost back to functional. Doctor Vanhersh wanted more time, but I told him I was needed back here."

"Really?"

"I may have exaggerated slightly, Sir. But I'm calling you about the new base panel."

"Ah, yes. You translated it? Anything interesting?"

"A bit of a problem."

"I'm starting to think that Master and Trouble are next to each other in the dictionary. Okay, what is it?"

"The new panel gives us statistics about the NATO faction. It even seems to track how many people are recruited in NATO in real time. It even has an additional section if we have an Overseer in."

"So, the Dome wants to make HR redundant?"

"The main thing is that it specifically tracks how many Masters and total Levels we have."

"That's something we know, though."

"Well, that one's the problem, Sir. Because the panel says that we have one extra Level 1 Master somewhere in NATO."

"What? We haven't even found a new candidate yet. How can this happen? I thought that the district thing would let us control who…"

"Would prevent anyone not affiliated with NATO from awakening. If you're NATO personnel and you awaken outside of the district, you'd be unaffiliated, at least until you claim to be NATO. But if you awaken within one, that means you have to be NATO."

"So, you're essentially saying someone awakened on his or her own."

"Somewhere within the Bergholz or Schlöss District. Or maybe the Sahara one, but that would be very short notice since we have had it since yesterday… and it would require a NATO person stationed in Algeria or Morocco. If we have any."

"That sounds like a haystack and needle problem. A spontaneous awakening has probably not been briefed or anything about the existence of the Master Force. They will probably notice something about them changed but have no idea where all this comes from. How do we find them within tens of thousands…"

"27,209 as of half an hour ago. That's what the panel says."

"Nice. Twenty-seven thousand. We've only screened about 20% of the troops for the Master gene – which is confirmed, by the way, seeing as all the Bremen dead had it. The DNA testing machine maker apparently has supply issues. Someone has been buying lots of machines very recently, for some reason. So we're stuck at testing around 150 people's DNA a day. That sounds nice, but testing the entire NATO staff and associates will take months."

"They might come forward once they realize something's off."

"I am not counting on fortuitous chance. Although soldiers might stand out suddenly, with the physical Master enhancement."

"Just thinking out loud. He or she might even be a civilian rather than force."

"Right. I have nearly five thousand people to screen as well. Needle, meet haystack," Carolus said again.

"I have an idea how to shortcut some of the latter, though."

"I'm taking all."

"Most of the civilian personnel is at the headquarters in Belgium, right?"

"Not everyone, but most, yes."

"And it lies just barely within the Schlöss district."

"So that means anyone around here can awaken. Right. Nice."

"Yes, but it still means they're all there during the day. The DNA thing is the only way to test for a Latent. But if you are awakened, then any Master will immediately know you are one upon seeing you."

"So if you were to come and visit the entire HQ…"

"We could almost certainly spot if he or she is there."

"Then do so."

"I'd like all Masters to come. We can split to canvass the buildings. They're quite large from what I remember last time."

"Nearly 4000 people, although we have quite a few non-NATO people here. By all means. But Master Marek stays. One of the things I got in the morning is the Bundespolizei screaming at us because his ankle monitor went out of the "designated holding facility". They're threatening to get him back into prison since they are the ones responsible for him, legally. So, I'd like to avoid that."

"I can see why that would be a problem, sir."

"Oh, and dress civilian. I can explain a thing or two about V.I.P. visiting and seeing everyone, but if they see a group of captains and non-commissioned, they might wonder how you're such VIPs."

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 16 - HOT PURSUIT​

Miranda's day had begun poorly and had already gone worse. Although the day was still young, there was enough time to make it even worse. At least it was Friday, and she'd have the weekend to… do something.

Her boss had dropped yet another report in her inbox, expecting comments and highlights in return. Apparently, the supply summary wasn't enough, as usual. Worse still, he often came around unexpectedly and asked precise questions about this or that point from a procurement document, which meant she had to read it well enough to remember it. She had yet to finish the previous 50-page supply contract.

Then, the department's assistant dropped a notice to everyone to expect some kind of inspection. There would be some kind of VIP tour today, announced at the last minute, and they wanted to see absolutely everyone. Her department was scheduled for 10:20, and would please everyone be at their desks, keep the doors open – contrary to all the usual requirements on security – and smile when they saw someone passing through; thanks.

So, she decided she absolutely needed a major coffee break before the dog-and-pony show, take her time, smile at 10:20, nod if addressed, and try to forget about her troubles. So here she was, on one of the main concourses that everyone favored instead of the undersized break rooms, the largest coffee cup she could get from the cafeteria in hand, and trying to make sense of her life.

Because her life didn't make sense these days.





The whole psychotic break started two days ago. She was still hunched over her computer, trying to make sense of that contract she was supposed to summarize when the heat spell hit. For a few seconds, all of her office furniture jumped back and forth, scrambling for her attention. Then, it settled back somewhat. Every time she touched something, it was as if the object was jumping at her, clamoring for some kind of attention she had no idea how to give. She had heard descriptions of trips and similar things, even though she'd never taken any of the so-called "party drugs" for fear of being raped or worse. The worst thing she'd ever taken with some weed. This felt like it might be one of those trips… except she had not taken anything. Someone might have slipped her something during lunch, but that was hours ago, and surely it would have started long before. She debated going to the infirmary, but how could she explain precisely what she felt? "Hi, someone drugged me, and I'm having a bad trip."

The whole thing had almost settled down by the time she left for the evening. Then it started again. Half of the time, when she said goodbye, it was as if she wanted to do… something… she had no idea what exactly… to her colleagues. It was like hugging them, which still felt unnatural for a French girl like her, or eating them, or some other act she couldn't quite articulate or define.

The trip down the elevator was almost blissfully normal, as was the driving back home. No weird impulses, no strange sensations, and the world felt solid and normal.

At home, she'd kicked the shoes, settled on the sofa, and then started to pile on cushions to isolate herself from the unusual way the couch's texture felt. She immediately decided to skip horror home movie night, drink lots of honeyed tea, and find a book to read instead. She'd hit her friends' party haunts tomorrow night to clear her mind.

The grey tabby cat she'd brought with her when moving into Brussels for her new job jumped on the sofa and butted her hand, aiming for a cuddle. She petted him absently, wondering if she wouldn't be better off as a cat without all the human misery.

The cat screeched.





She dropped… on all fours? The cat had called to her the way every object and many of her colleagues had felt, but this went beyond. She felt like she was a cat, which meant her psychosis was progressing… but Miaou ran away and hid behind the TV console.

She tried to call after him, but all that came out was a tentative meowing. If she thought she was a cat, that made sense that she couldn't speak… but the tabby was still screeching at her, somewhat accusingly. Did she imagine that as well?

The other thing she noticed was that the sensations of objects calling to her had vanished. She had to focus on the cushion to feel it again. She dropped from the sofa, landed on the rug, and marveled at how she felt at ease with the cat impersonation.

The thing is, she could fit easily under the table.

Usually, she'd have to fold her legs to put them under the low table. There was no way she'd go on all fours and get under the table without spilling it. Yet, she was under it. Or at least imagining that she was, which, in a way, was worse.

The other thing was that she was somehow colorblind. For some reason, everything felt muted, like a uniform brown. And her… mustache twitched with some sort of incomprehensible sensation. Each whisker seemed to send her sensation about heat, solidity, and other things.

Miaou was still eyeing her warily from his hiding place. He started screeching again whenever she trotted toward him, and she retreated a bit. She finally jumped on the sofa, a move that felt very natural – if it was happening at all – and curled up, trying not to think about the impossibility of it all.

The worst part was that she felt fine. There was no real confusion, fuzzy head, or any sign she was out of her mind a drug. She'd tried weed a few times, and the slightly dislocated sensation that sometimes came with it wasn't there. Apart from thinking she was a tiny four-footed beast.





The episode lasted almost an hour. At one point, she felt stretching. Raising her hand, she was reassured to see it pink, with normal-looking nails, flaking polish, and appropriate fingers. She wriggled it a bit to make sure everything was back to normal.

Miaou moved out of his hiding place. For the entire psychotic break, he'd stayed in his safe place, but apparently, whatever spooked him seemed to be gone. She had no idea how he could have known she was delusional… unless… but that was preposterous.

The tabby warily crawled to the sofa, jumped up, and curled against her after sniffing everywhere. She carefully avoided thinking about being a cat again and petted him. He fell asleep almost immediately, which was unusual for him. On ordinary evenings, he'd bother her until she retreated to her bedroom, where he had enough sense to stop annoying her.

"Guess what, Miaou. I'm tired as well."





The morning after was still a bit weird. She'd woken up completely tangled into the comforter, which didn't happen unless she'd overdrank on the weekend. Things felt simultaneously normal and clingy in some ways. The mug and cutlery didn't "speak" to her, but the table and chair did. So did the microwave. She was much better at ignoring the sensations, although they were present. And she could already sort the objects. Too small or too large, and they felt normal. In between they… wanted to be her. With her? Or something.

She finally admitted she'd be late today if she didn't start, so she finally put on her clothes – which did not call to her, thankfully – and after petting – very carefully – Miaou, she went out, dragging the trash bag. She was turning when a blur came out of upstairs, almost colliding with her, and she had to steady the girl.

"Sorry, miss!" the teen from upstairs blurted before bounding down, not even looking back.

"Not sorry…" she muttered, then locked the door, shaking her head.

She was dropping the trash bag into the bin when she heard a noise behind her. She turned and spotted the old man, Mr. Bosmans, she thought.

"Forgot the trash, eh? You shouldn't run like that."

"Uh?" she stammered.

"Saw you go running, Lise. You know your mom has a problem with the stairs."

Miranda frowned. She knew the mother upstairs had broken her leg a few months ago and still had difficulties, but why would Mr. Bosmans confuse her with the teen?

The man ignored her and went back up. The old man might start to have senility coming in, she supposed. She shrugged it away and went into the parking. She opened the car, slid in, and went to check everything when she stopped.

The figure that looked back on the side mirror wasn't her. It was the teen from upstairs.

For a moment, her brain went blank. She raised her hands and realized she hadn't noticed, but she was actually wearing some fingerless gloves she remembered now the running figure had. And a baggy coat that definitively wasn't hers. She checked again in the mirror, but the person reflected there, sitting in the car, was definitively the runner – Lise?

"What the…" she started before realizing the voice wasn't hers.

She must have a psychotic break again, hallucinations… except that Mr. Bosmans seemed to have seen the teen, not her. Or was he part of the hallucination?

She almost ran out of the car. Two minutes later, she was back in the apartment, in her bedroom, curling out under the comforter.



The office had accepted her feeble excuses for missing a day, but that only meant the work had piled in her inbox during the day. She had tried to persuade herself that she was not going mad, but that was hard. She was getting better at rejecting the impulses, but she was deathly afraid to let it go and sink again into hallucinations.

The worst thing was the stray thought that maybe she was not hallucinating and Miaou or Mr. Bosman's reaction were genuine.



The large, airy concourse was comforting. She had room, and she could avoid people. She'd almost recoiled when kissing her colleague Natalie that morning and realized that if she weren't careful, she'd succumb again. Warm caffeine was supposed to dispel many problems and clear one's mind, and she hoped it would have good effects on her mind. At least she wasn't fully psychotic, with paranoia and…

Two of the people walking briskly along the concourse were different.

They were Masters. The concept burned itself in her mind. The man and woman were different. They seemed like perfectly ordinary visitors, but her senses screamed "different." And the man alongside them didn't seem to notice.

She started to slowly back out. The two were talking to their companion and were seemingly focused on something else. How did one go around to warn about… she almost stopped, realizing that she was probably going deeper into madness. Aliens? In NATO's headquarters?

The woman looked around and suddenly stopped and looked back. She reached to the other Master's arm and pointed out, straight at her.



"Master, there," Erika suddenly pointed to Al.

He looked and saw a young woman, a Level 1 Master, staring at them with a large cup of coffee in hand.

"That's her, right," he confirmed, just as the woman abruptly dropped her plastic cup and turned, almost running.

"Fuck, she's seen us and got spooked, I think," he swore.

He started walking fast. The man from the security directorate who was accompanying them was startled.

"We found our target," Erika told him as she followed Al.

The two pushed and moved as fast as they could. They reached the side corridor where the woman had rushed and saw only a pair of people. A small woman in a major's uniform was coming at them, and they pushed her slightly aside, as they started running – lightly – toward the end.

"Hey, be careful," the major said, as they ignored her.

They went and reached the other concourse, looking left, then right.

Nobody. Well, not nobody, there were a few people on break, or walking around, but no Master in sight.

"Did we lose her?" Erika said.

"Looks like," Al replied.

"Wait a second… is that the…" she said, walking fast.

She came upon a woman, and Al realized she looked vaguely familiar. In fact, she looked exactly like the major they'd just seen in the traverse.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but…" she started.

"Yes?"

"We just saw you back there, and I wanted to ask…"

"Ask what?"

Erika seemed to hesitate.

"People are rude this morning. First, you had that girl that almost ran into me before turning back the way she came, and now random people…" her eyes dropped to their visitor badges "… want to pester me."

"Problem, Ines?" someone asked.

"Not, Jerôme. Just annoying people. That, with this VIP visit…"

Erika and Al exchanged glances.

"You don't have a twin that works here?" she still asked.

"No. What a stupid question. Now, if you excuse me, I do have work."

Al reached the conclusion one second before Erika.

"Shapeshifter?"



They were back at the main concourse but couldn't see anyone standing out. The duplicate woman had vanished.

"It was a complete copy", Erika said.

"Same clothes, even," Al confirmed.

"The thing that worries me is that… the 'other Ines' wasn't recognizable. We should have noticed a Master. We did when we spotted her the first time."

"A Master ability that fucks up even basic stuff. Impressive."

Al suddenly stopped and reached for his phone. An instant later, he had Max online.

"Max? You and Julio head to the exits. We have confirmation, but the Master ran. She – if she's a she – had to have recognized us and fled."

"If… she's a she?"

"She's a shapeshifter."

"What?"

"Stop anyone who attempts to leave, no matter their appearance. Even a 5-star, if you have to. And have Julio try to use his Overseer ability, even if you don't see a Master. She can disguise herself as a non-Master. But I hope his monitoring ability can 'acquire' her even then. She's NATO, after all. Al, out."

"Back to square one," Erika said.

"But we know now that it's a civilian from Brussels. Worst case, we just have to ask if someone went missing during the day."



Miranda had almost run to the security before stopping herself. Either she was right about aliens, and she had to be right about… about her own alien ability. Or she was delusional, and she'd be interned.

At least the delusions were consistent. On a hunch, she'd let herself go as she almost stumbled upon the woman who was slowly ambling. She'd turned around and boldly strode up toward the two Masters. And they did not recognize her, simply excused themselves as they pursued.

She'd hesitated upon reaching procurement as she drew glances from her colleagues in their offices. She'd slid back into her own – despite having a picture of one Ines Demeyre from public coms, her badge did open up her office perfectly normally. Then she tried to project an "I'm Miranda Varlet, I'm Miranda Varlet, I'm…" vibe.

The relaxing sensation that she'd associated with the end of the hallucinatory episode came upon her, and she relaxed before realizing she had taken control of her own madness.

Someone knocked, and she replied, "Yes?"

Natalie peeked in.

"Thought I'd see if you saw that person? Was that the VIP?"

"Who?"

"Some major was passing through. By the way, we're supposed to keep the offices open, remember?"

"Oh, drat. Forgot after coffee break," she said lamely, and it was almost correct after all.



"This is procurement. We manage the entire process over all of NATO, from paperclips to tank ammunition," the man explained, and Al tuned him out.

"That must be lots of people," Erika said politely.

"We're efficient. There are nine main procurement agents, junior to senior, and that works out well."

"Everyone's here?" Al asked.

"Nobody's on vacation. And we don't do remote work at NATO, but you probably know that. You want to meet everyone?"

"No, just have a look. Don't want too much disruption."

The two men in the first office didn't register as Masters, but then, no one seemed out of place. They moved along, looked at the friendly-looking woman with a speakerphone headset, who waved back, and then reached the next office.

The Master looked up and stood, pushing back her chair. She was the one they'd spotted on the concourse. Al raised his hand pleadingly. He looked briefly aside as Erika moved discreetly to block the exit.

"Don't panic," he said.

"You're…" she started, eyes wide and obvious panic signs coming up.

"We can explain."

"Explain what?" the procurement manager asked.

"They're aliens," the woman half-yelled back at him.

"What?"

"They're… Masters. Not people."

"Miranda, what are you talking about? Those people are auditing things for the security directorate and…"

"No, they're not!"

"Actually, we are. We do report to Carolus Zimmer of the security directorate."

The woman – Miranda – crossed the distance, and Erika moved her hand politely but firmly to block her. The Master reached, and then, she seemed to flow. Her figure rearranged itself, her clothes melting and reforming, and he was staring at a second Erika. There was a gasp to the side as the procurement department's head eyes bulged in surprise.

"Everything here is classified," Al warned Miranda's boss immediately.

He crossed the distance and put his hand on the second "Erika," pushing Neurolyzer to inject some calm. She looked at him and frowned. Suddenly, he felt a pushback and realized this would not work. She was immune, unlike the real Erika.

He frowned. She shouldn't be, she was a Level 1, or at least had been until she copied Erika and his perception of her suddenly changed.

"Congratulations, and welcome to the ranks of NATO's Masters, miss…" he paused. The lanyard wasn't helping since she now had a copy of a visitor's badge.

"She's Ms. Varlet, Miranda Varlet," the boss supplied, looking at the two identical women. "But how is that happening?"

"As I said, all things related to Masters, like us and Ms. Varlet here, are classified. If you think you need to know, please get in touch with Carolus Zimmer at the security directorate."

The fake Erika looked up at him, "What's a Master?"





"You have led my agents on a merry chase, Ms. Varlet."

"I still don't understand this Master business, Mr. Zimmer. I mean, I'm just a junior evaluator for procurement. This alien stuff is…"

"Unfortunately, part of you now. Or fortunately, depending on one's point of view."

"Fortunately?"

"There are not many Masters around. Notably at NATO. So you can understand we're very keen on having a new member for my team."

"But I'm not in the security directorate!" she protested.

"You will be in around 30 minutes. I have broad authority regarding all things Master-related, meaning I can poach anyone from any directorate or detached force."

"And if I want to resign instead?"

"You can't. That's the unfortunate part. Being a NATO Master means you can't resign from NATO anymore, and I'm not talking about your superiors refusing your resignation. You no longer physically can. The same system that gives you powers also locks you into NATO. There are loopholes, and Master Zacharias will probably explain it to you better than me, but NATO will… take a dim view if you ever manage to use one. You'll see why."

"That's… insane. I felt I was going insane already, but you're not making sense."

"A lot of things don't make sense at first. But there are compensations. Your hand, Master Varanson?"

Al placed his hands next to each other on the desk to highlight the difference.

"Your left hand looks… all kind of strange. Is that a malformation or something?"

"No, my hand was rotted and burned away two weeks ago. I'm not going into too many gory details, but you could even see through it in some parts. It's almost completely regrown on its own."

Miranda looked horrified. Carolus Zimmer pounced on the demonstration.

"Our best guess – since it's been barely two months since the Master system became known at NATO – is that you are now nearly physically immortal. You can regenerate any wound, lose any scar, you're probably immune to all illnesses, et cetera, et cetera."

Erika noted that Zimmer was trying to oversell the advantages of being a Master. But he might even be correct about those.

"Oh, and you're now forbidden to enlist in the Olympics."

"What?"

"It would probably be considered cheating. You have extreme strength, speed, reflexes, and endurance. Master Zacharias here could smash most world records already at Level 1, and you have now advanced to Level 2, which means you could probably put to shame every competitor in the men's athletic categories."

"Now, for the practical details of your transfer to Bergholz base…"

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 17 - MASTER 101​

"The two candidates are just there," Carl said from the door frame.

"Good," Al said before stopping and frowning.

"Nice try, Burgundy," he smiled.

'Carl' stopped and sighed.

"What gave me away?"

"Everything is perfect, accent and all. But you still have a slight problem with grammar and idioms. You sound like Baseball but don't talk exactly like a native American."

The figure melted and shifted into a semi-business jeans-and-shirt female figure as Miranda shook her head.

After the former procurement agent had truly realized she was stuck in NATO and accepted her new nature as a Level 2 Mimic Avatar Master, it had taken time. She wasn't military, ready for reassignment at a moment's notice. Packing and moving into Bergholz Base, complete with cat, had taken nearly two weeks, even with NATO paying everything and hiring movers. The officer building had tiny apartments, and the Frenchwoman had grumbled a bit before settling down.

No new emergency had arisen in the meantime, so Al and the Master Force team had sunk into figuring out the latest abilities. Al had initially thought she'd gained Neurolyzer when he tried to use it to no avail, but she hadn't. She'd been apparently on the cusp of leveling when she experienced it, but she'd gained Avatar. And she'd immediately copied the ability, acquiring it and the associated immunity.

That was an incredibly versatile ability, although it had its limits. She could feel a Master's ability and copy it wholesale. She could pick Plasma and then start to launch fireballs, along with the temperature immunity. She could copy Darksight and look at the sun. Every ability, from Sculptor to Overseer. The only restriction was that, if she copied one ability she couldn't access any other until she "released" it, which she had to after three hours at most.

If Avatar was impressive, Mimic was absolutely batshit insane, in Al's professional opinion.

She could copy anything. Living or not. She could turn into any person, any animal, but also inert objects, like a chair or a table. The only limitations were mass-based. Too small and she couldn't, too heavy and she was also locked out. But she could turn herself into a perfect duplicate of anything that massed 133% or less of her own mass, excluding clothes. Carl "Baseball" Johnson was at the edge of her ability.

Al, along with the researchers for the Dome, had spent time trying to figure out what went on. Since she'd also reported that the maximum duration of Mimic had measurably increased since her first inadvertent tries, the prevalent idea was that her ability had increased by 1/3rd​ in magnitude and 1/6th​ in duration when she'd gained her second Level.

She could also switch seamlessly from one shape to another, but that did not reset her timer. And that was another problem when it came to using both abilities simultaneously. If she became another ability's Avatar, she couldn't reaccess Mimic, at least until she released the copied ability. She could still release her Mimic-ed shape but not gain another.

But before long, she was trying to push her boundaries. She could Mimic anyone near-perfectly, but she was not truly that person. Just like Al had noticed, she retained no memories or anything. She couldn't move or do anything when assuming a non-living object's shape, although she retained some senses. Even when copying a bike – complete with wheels and everything – she couldn't control it. People could ride 'her', but she couldn't do anything about it, except shift back to human shape under them. Or copy the rider for extra weirdness.

Doctor Vanhersh had already sent a lengthy questionnaire and was trying to get her to come for examinations, but Al finally put down his foot. After she'd shown Erika some absolutely awkward questions, notably on specific physical reactions when shifted into the opposite sex, he said no. He had to explain to Carolus that it was now pretty evident that the Master System did not obey any physical laws but was entirely arbitrary in its reality violations. Trying to fit Master abilities into biology was doomed to failure, he argued.

"She's a bloody civilian. Even if she can't resign and we can't fire her, she's not under military discipline. Unless you want to cause her to stop cooperating, you must let her choose how much she wants to be a Master. All jokes about German Herr Doctor, we need to be reasonable."

"She knows that the Master Force is classified, right?"

"But she can try to get an attorney for a suit. She has that right inscribed in law, and even if you say that NATO needs this to be classified, if she disagrees, if she truly believes it would be better for NATO to treat their Masters this or that way… she can. She can't run away – which, without the loyalty thing, would probably be trivial, she's that terrifying – but she can push back. We're loyal but not slaves."

"Okay, I get your points. Now, let me handle Vanhersh."

"Thank you, Sir."

Al pushed the button to shut the phone, and Miranda raised an eyebrow, mimicking Erika a bit.

"I don't have an attorney."

"You won't need any. Try to imagine blowing the whole thing open and warning people."

Miranda frowned, then winced.

"The Master System obviously considers us impeding the recruitment of other Masters as going against NATO's interests," Al sighed. "But Zimmer doesn't have to know that."





Al and Miranda headed toward the Dome. Technically, they could induct new Masters anywhere within any of the Districts, but as cramped as it was, it felt more right to do it within the original base.

When they entered the Dome, they found Erika and the rest of the Masters gathered around the floating holograms, along with two new members of the military. Al had already skimmed their files. François Gallant was a Canadian from the French-speaking Quebec area, and a lieutenant in infantry forces. Then the Danish Air Force captain, Uffe Kallensen. Kallensen was supposed to be returned to the Danish military next month, but if everything went to plan, that would not happen.

"Gentlemen, let's begin. But first, what do you think about this?"

The two new latent looked at each other, hesitating.

"Go on."

"I've heard funny stuff about Bergholz, but I thought it was funny stuff," Gallant started.

"Well, welcome to the Master System," Al started, waving toward the control panels.

"As you can guess, this is a form of alien technology – as if the writing didn't tell you. NATO stumbled upon it a few months ago, and we've been working on it, as well as some of the implications behind what's going on.

"It is alien, mind you, not some obfuscated or encrypted thing. What we understand from it is that 'they' use a syllabic writing with lots of bizarre implied meaning – words change meaning based on context – a base 12 counting system, and a 1.8864 'second'.

"The panels you see are used to monitor what are called 'Districts,' arbitrary land zones. They don't map to countries, although they sometimes seem to follow some geographic features. The one you see, which we name Bergholz, covers Eastern Germany, Western Poland, and a bit of Czechia. And what is more important is that the Master System I spoke about recognizes NATO's control over it."

He saw the two startled and waved it away.

"I'll answer those questions you have a bit later. But yes, the Master System has rules. It is very much like a game – it might even be a game for aliens, and we're just toying with it. One major part of that game is this Districting. NATO has established itself as a faction in the game by controlling the Bergholz District via this very dome.

"Now, the other aspect of the Master System is Masters. Some people can be recognized by the 'game' as Masters. If you are familiar with computer role-playing games or tabletop versions, you will immediately recognize this.

"A Master is someone with special abilities granted to them by the Master System. You start at Level 1 with one ability. You gain 'experience' by working within the Master System or by fighting other Masters…"

He saw Gallant straighten.

"… until you get Level 2 and a second ability. Then Level 3 and another. And so on.

"Now, it's not that simple. You don't get to hit the escape key and pull up a character sheet. All you know – that's instinctive – is your own Level and list of abilities. There is no help function – there is a help Master ability called Oracle, but NATO doesn't have access to it. Everything has to be reverse-engineered, but we've made good headway into various parts.

"Abilities are pretty arbitrary and range from bizarre to the near-impossible. Take Plasma, for instance.

"It's a medium-range, extremely offensive ability. You can create a self-contained sphere of concentrated hot plasma, aim, and fire it at a target or in the distance. It has a recharge time – a Cooldown in game parlance – of around 136 seconds, or "sixty" of those 1.88 'seconds,' in base twelve – 72 time units total. When you level up, your ability improves, and the Cooldown is reduced by 1/6th​ for each Level. That's arbitrary and straight out of an RPG rulebook, but that's how it works.

"There are others, like Steward – a District-related ability – whose range increases with every Level, and some which are either fixed or change so little we haven't been able to measure any.

"All abilities come with self-immunity, so if you have Plasma, you are immune to extremely high temperatures. Think 6000°F – 3500°C for our European friends.

"The other part of Masters and Levels is physical enhancement. Each Level increases – massively – your physical strength, your speed, your reflexes. It's slightly different, apparently based on which ability comes with the Level. So, a baseline is hard to quantify, but a Level 1 simply fit person becomes an Olympic athlete or record-breaker. A Level 2 exceeds human limits. A Level 4…"

Al paused for effect.

"… like me is almost like classic Superman from the 40s."

The two potential recruits exchanged glances again, and then Gallant nodded.

"If this Master System thing you describe is real, then it was fairly obvious from the eclectic group here that you'd be some of those… Masters. And I think the implications are clear when it comes to us two. Am I correct?"

Al smiled.

"Time to switch this on."

He raised his hand, and the familiar Lightning arcs started to form and rise between his fingers. He was slightly better at controlling the arcs, but there were still limitations. In particular, he could only arc toward a person – himself or a target – but nothing else, even if it was a very conducting surface. And the arcs wanted to stay relatively straight, which precluded anything fancy. But as a demonstration, it worked, as the familiar sensations came.

"Congratulations on you two."

What was interesting was that Gallant was a Level 1 – he could tell since it was thee or more Levels below his – but Kallensen was immediately Level 2, or maybe higher. It was now clear that not every Master started at zero "experience." That was why he and Kallensen began at higher Levels and why Varlet had needed a single demonstration of an ability to gain a Level where Max had only gotten one after fighting multiple enemies.

The Master System was not as balance-obsessed as a human game designer would be.

"Anything that would give you 'experience' is potentially enough to awaken your Master status, as just happened. Normally, I'd ask you to find out by instinct what you can now do. That's usually more fun. But for now, try introspection. Think about who you are, but more importantly, what you are."

He watched the two, slightly confused, but Gallant found the trick almost immediately.

"I'm a Level 1 Sculptor? Is that correct?"

"Sculptor means you can shape stone, rock, crystal, or similar substances. Max?"

Max grabbed the small paving stone he'd picked on the way and showed it to all. The stone immediately shifted and twisted in his palm until it became a curious sphere with pentagonal holes. Simple shapes were easy for a Sculptor, but complex 3D ones were much harder. The ability relied on mental visualization, and Max had had to practice to get the displayed result.

"You can shape up to your own mass," he informed the Canadian. "Anything over it, and you can only affect the part you're touching up to that mass. You need to switch holds to shape the rest. I expect the mass to increase when I get a new Level, like most abilities."

The – former – infantry lieutenant seemed astounded by the idea.

"Captain Kallensen?" Al asked.

"I'm getting something that translates as Level 2 Malmetal Sticker? If I translate this correctly from Danish?"

"Probably correct," Al said. "Malmetal, eh? Sticker we know, we've encountered the ability before. Malmetal is new."

"Sticker isn't about putting labels on things," Erika injected. "You can stick to surfaces. Like Spiderman, but without the web slingers."

"Weren't they some fancy gadgets he developed later?" Uffe Kallensen asked.

"I think they retconned that?" Max injected, and Al had to raise his hand.

"Superhero geeking out aside, we'll have to find out later what this new one is. For now, let's demonstrate the rest."

Al pulsed his plasma briefly before opening the Dome's door. Since the door did not lock, he had to push it with his hand without using the very human-looking handlebars. Erika demonstrated her Freezer and propelled the ice block across the table by just laying a finger on it. After the first demonstrations, when he came back from the hospital, he'd recognized the ability of the Bremen's boss – injecting kinetic energy into objects let you do surprising things.

Even if it was not very visual, they had Julio taking "hold" of the new Masters. He had 24 "slots", according to Marek. When asked how he knew, the Polish Master had simply answered "Oskar" before shutting down again.

The crown of the demonstration was, of course, Miranda. Turning into a duplicate of Erika and then coming up to Uffe to copy Malmetal was absolutely stunning. She'd guessed the ability from what she got from the contact, and Malmetal turned out to be a portmanteau of Malleable and Metal. The commando knife she'd fished from Al being bent and twisted like putty was strange. Unlike Sculptor, though, that was all the ability did: making metal incredibly soft. It froze as soon as the Malmetal Master stopped touching it, and neither Miranda's copy nor Uffe's original allowed them to reshape the metal with their mind as Max did.

Al was left with a slightly bent knife after Miranda had tried to the best of her ability to straighten it back into its original shape.

"Congratulations, Master Gallant," Al then pronounced.

"What for?"

"You're Level 2 now," Julio announced, his Overseer ability having warned him.

"Oh… right. Lightning? Is that your…?"

"That's the first one I demonstrated, yes. You're now entirely immune to electrical discharges, and you've got a high-power taser in your hands."

"Does everyone get different abilities?"

"We have no idea on which criteria they're attributed. They are fixed in advance, at least to an extent. The Oracle ability I mentioned lets you see in advance what ability you get at the next Level. And should you lose a Level, you regain the same ability along with a Level."

"You can lose a Level?"

"Yes, if you're engaging in combat with another Master and lose, the winner takes some of your experience. But that only works with hostile Masters. That doesn't work when we spar, according to Marek."

Gallant crossed his arms.

"Hostile Masters," he simply repeated.

"I said that NATO was a faction in the Master System's game. There are others. We know of at least three – two now. The Polish Supremacy, the Bremen Motorcycle Club, and the Djinni."

"A what? Motorcycle Club?"

"Any organization of any nature can become a Master System faction. All it takes is a Master as part of the organization. The Bremen Motorcycle Club is infamous in Germany – a biker gang with very dubious activities. They had multiple Masters, and there was a fight over a District. At least one escaped. The Polish Supremacy was an online gaming group. The Djinni is… a bit bizarre of a case. And, of course, there might be more such groups. In fact, I am assuming there will be more. It's a recent phenomenon – the Polish Supremacy had Masters for barely more than a year, and the Bremen got their awakened two months ago. And the District has been there for three."

"So what do we do?"

"We monitor things and stand ready to fight against other factions, should the need arise. Speaking of which…" Al said, recognizing the large view on the main screen.

"Marek?"

"On it already. It popped while you were busy awakening our new Masters," the Steward said as he bent over Nikolaj's laptop.

"I can now read the writing fine," Gallant noted. "Is that how you decrypted the holograms?"

"If you're a Master, you can read the language."

"Activation? Is this District-related?"

"Absolutely. We have…"

"65 hours and a few," the second technician on duty replied, looking at the panel through his translator headset. "60,000 base-12 Time Units," he absently added.

"So, 65 hours until the District south of here activates. That's when a Dome, just like this one, pops up somewhere in there, and NATO establishes its claim on it. Looks like you're going to be thrown in the panfire immediately," he added.

Meanwhile, Nikolaj was looking at Marek, shaking his head.

"You're pulling my leg?"

"Nope. That's correct, within 300 meters."

Nikolaj laughed.

"What's going on?"

"Come and have a look," Marek answered, pointing to the laptop's screen.





"Greetings, Sir," Al said as Carolus Zimmer came out of the car at the edge of the runway and started crossing the grass to where the Masters were gathered.

"I thought you'd like to see the spectacle, given the circumstances," he added.

Al's boss shook his hand and looked around.

"I thought you were pulling up my leg when you said this," he said, waving at the expanse of grass.

The Master Force was standing at the edge of a runway in the middle of Aviano Airforce Base, up in northeast Italy. The NATO base was at the edge of the District, stretching from this corner of Italy across most of Austria to southwest Czechia, where it connected to the Bergholz District.

"From the satellite map, Marek said it will pop right here in…" Al checked his watch, "Six minutes."

"At least this should be easy," Carolus noted.

"That's the second NATO base that was targeted. It should not be entirely surprising. The Schlöss was."

Carolus nodded and turned to greet the two newest Masters.

"Welcome to the Master Force."

"I understand you're my new boss," Uffe said.

"That's right. People are trying to get you, and there are talks about making the Master Force a very specific entity, separate from the security directorate. I'm not entirely against it; it would mean I'm promoted to the level of my current boss and directly reporting to the NATO Council. Hopefully."

"I would have appreciated knowing about the 'faction lock-in' beforehand," Uffe said pointedly.

"The Master System isn't very friendly," Carolus replied.

Al noted that the bureaucrat had eluded the answer. Judging from the Danish captain's expression, this had not escaped him either, but the Master didn't push it. It wasn't as if they could do something about that, as Carolus had implied.

"Two minutes," Erika announced.

They all settled, watching the expanse. Aviano Traffic Control had ensured the runway nearby would remain clear for the time, barring an absolute emergency.

There was an immense sighing, and this time, Al saw it happening. One second, there was just grass, concrete lines, and runway lights. The next second, a silvery geodesic dome was off to the side, two hundred feet next to the runway.

Erika lowered the smartphone.

"Got it on record. It seemed nearly instantaneous."

Carolus shook his head to clear it.

"At least, it looks like it fits. A new radio dome for the base."

"Any airman will notice it shouldn't be made of metal," Uffe immediately countered.

"Did we try painting it?" Carolus asked.

"…"

"Shall we," Erika said, breaking the odd pause.



As soon as they stepped in, the lights and claim hologram sprung up. Al had started to get a better feel for the Master System numbering, so he noticed that the numbers went down fast as everyone entered the dome before settling on the "time unit" rhythm.

"Looks like it's going to be less than 30 minutes. The more Levels we have inside, the faster it goes."

"Good," Carolus commented, looking around at the sparse room.

The metallic structure made phones unreliable, but with the doors stuck open, Carolus could connect and call the base's command. While they were waiting, a car stopped on the runway, and a pair of high-ranking officers came out. Carolus went to meet them.

Al looked back at the dwindling numbers.

"Almost… And done."

The standard set of holograms sprung up.

"All good. Fourth District in."

He moved in, starting to shift the views. Four was another divider of twelve, so it might be a significant milestone for the Master System.

"Max, you leveled up," Julio announced.

"What? I didn't feel anything," he replied. "Oh. What's… Panglossia?"

Al turned his head.

"New one?"

"Looks like. What's a Panglossia, though?" he asked.

"Language? Já falou português?" Julio asked.

"Não, acho que não…" Max replied before stopping abruptly.

"Looks like you speak in tongues," Julio laughed.

"Really? Noget sprog?" Uffe asked, just as Miranda added, "Même le français?"

"Hold a minute. Okay, I understand everyone… et je peut répondre aussi. Evidemment."

She exchanged a look with Gallant, and they both laughed.

"Something up?" Carolus asked as he came back inside.

"Another Level up. Max can now speak any language."

"Well, that might be useful when deployed," Carolus nodded appreciatively.

"And your other abilities will have improved," Al added.

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 18 - EASY MODE​

"Go ham."

That was all that Al said to his old team before they recruited the engineers for the task.

Colonel Murchison, who was still the base commander, much to his surprise given the peculiarities of the command, had finally relented. Al had sent Erika to negotiate with him since they'd worked together for a long time before the Master System. She pointed out the surprising amount of non-regulation tee-shirts sporting super-hero logos whenever the base soldiers were off-duty and crammed into one of the two new pubs that had sprung in the nearby village.

"It's an open secret. Too many people know; enough of them talk. Our last recruits knew about the District dome already."

"It's still classified."

"So what? You put official restrictions on spectators; the engineering crew doesn't need to know what they can guess anyway."

And finally, they would do the "Darby Empress," using the stretch of land that NATO had finally purchased off the local municipality. Legs had, of course, already named it beforehand, and the entire team had started to brainstorm about it.

The first challenge was that it would be both an exercise course and a challenge one, despite the name – something to be done regularly as part of general fitness training. Hector had shaken his head, muttering about "minuscule differences."

The biggest challenge, though, was making it work for a wide variety of Levels.

The Levels 2, like Julio, Miranda, Marek, and the two recent recruits, were already beyond even world-class athletes. And Al stressed that it was going to be the baseline. As it was obvious that exposition to Master abilities increased the invisible experience total, they almost certainly had enough now to pump anyone to at least Level 2 as soon they were awakened.

Levels 3, Erika and Max, were well beyond. A 400m run, the intended track length for the "private" course, could be run in under a minute by a fit runner and had a world record of 43 seconds. Max could do under 32 seconds – they'd tested it on the regular track once at night. Erika was a bit faster, at 31 seconds, thanks to her different abilities. And that was a regular run, not trying for records.

And, of course, there was Al himself. So far, the only Level 4 of NATO. He ran that same track just over 21 seconds when trying to push himself to the max. He now routinely bench-pressed up to 1700 pounds, almost 50% higher than he'd been able to after getting awakened at Level 3. The near-round abrupt improvement made him suspect the performance boost was as arbitrary as the rest, so he'd duly noted in his "Masterbook" the 50% jump for strength associated with Gatekeeper. Each new Level was another data point filling the vast gaps in knowledge of the Master System.

The world record was a mere 783lb. He could lift that sitting on a bench with a barbell. This was also above the world record for heavyweight lifting. He just did it casually. Not quite with one arm, but just as part of the daily routine.

The last challenge was future-proofing the course. Based on 2/12th​ to 6/12th​ improvements of speed and similar or greater potential improvement in strength, he'd handed the team a bunch of "probable performance" marks for future Level 5 and Level 6.

Level 6 was going to be the realm of the one-minute mile run even if the abilities did not align. The "can't lift because the bar breaks under the weights" domain. The climbing wall would need to be tall enough that a Level 6 could not simply jump to grab the top and lift themselves without using any grip.

He had no idea how the curve for gaining Levels worked. Nikolaj was working on models, as he liked to, but he knew it was like having half a dozen equations with twenty unknowns, and you were not even sure of the equations. All they could be sure was that, according to Oracle information obtained from Marek, fighting and killing yielded the most experience. Al's progression would depend on the opposition.

And that was a bleak thought.

Evidently, the Master System was designed for a competition between "armed" factions. Conquering, holding territory, enhancing champions to face other champions, winner takes all. A giant game of Risk with units of ever-growing power and no idea which factions were in play.

And for now, Al was the champion of NATO.





Technically, Uffe was the senior officer of the Master Force, being promoted three weeks earlier than Erika. Out of deference for the visiting brass, he was the welcoming figure of this parade.

Internally, of course, the Master Force had adopted an informal ranking based on Levels and seniority within Level. So, you had a sergeant ahead of a captain, and where seniority within captain ranks was Uffe, Erika, and Al in that order, the actual ranks were the opposite.

Carolus had arrived slightly early to brief them ahead of the official visit.

"This is becoming a critical politically charged matter. Several highly ranked generals are attempting to get Master Force disbanded based on the fact that you aren't useful to NATO's normal ops, and we should simply ignore you and put you back to previous jobs, stop screening people, and so on."

"That sounds like a stupid idea."

"I agree. I think most of the proponents don't really believe in your existence or think the whole thing is overblown."

"And we have generals looking for waste?"

"At least six, and some of them are high enough to have the ear of the Council. Master Zacharias, you'll be pleased to see General Enright again. At least he's no longer saying you should be swept under a rug. Now, he wants you under his command instead."

"Remind me…" she said, looking tired.

"He's the Foreign Intelligence branch."

"And that makes him the right person for the Master Force?"

Carolus looked pointedly at Miranda.

"Just because of her? Seriously?"

"Don't worry. That's all the argument he can muster for taking over, and that is definitively not enough," Carolus smiled.

"How large is he? To see if I can Mimic him for the shock factor," Miranda asked.

"He's fairly big," Erika replied before Carolus could.

"Merde," she said. "I can do 78 kilos now – 173 pounds – and no more. I tried to bulk up a little, but I can't get fat with that physical training."

"I started losing weight myself after awakening my first Master ability, even without starting to do sports," Marek injected. "I don't think Masters can be overweight."

"Which is a shame for abilities that base themselves on your body mass like mine or hers," Max said.

"We'll have a demonstration of abilities. Did you mention a training course for the enhanced physical boosts?" Carolus asked.

"Almost done. We'll knock the socks off them," Al confirmed.

"Maybe we'll awaken some of the skeptics," Erika added.

"I hope not. If any flag rank awakened as a Master, they would have the perfect argument to take over the Master Force. I've invested a lot into making this, including some political capital to get Morocco to accept a tiny garrison on their territory. I'd hate to have wasted all that."

He smiled.

"But there's little chance of that, of course. The first thing we did was to test the DNA across all upper echelons of NATO."



The visiting brass was impressive indeed. Six generals and two civilians, both being ministers from their respective countries and members of the NATO Council. Plus, associated staff.

There wasn't enough room inside the District Dome, which was the first stop of the visit, so everyone waited outside while Uffe "Aquavit" Kallensen narrated the various parts of the Master System views for the edification of the visitors.

All of them were wearing light uniforms. They waited until the brass finally started to flow out, and Al caught the last bits of Uffe's briefing.

"… and here's Captain Varanson, who was the first member of NATO to awaken, following his fight against the Polish Supremacy group."

"And he's the one with the most – how you call them – Master abilities?"

"Level 4, yes. I only have two myself, but he shows that special forces still dominate the field."

General Moretz guwaffed. Al had recognized his – former – boss as soon as he'd stepped out of the car. Of course, Moretz was interested in this; he'd been since the start.

Al knew the intended content of the briefing, so he wasted no time repeating things.

"I am Captain, Master Level Four, Varanson. In a short while, we will demonstrate a few of the capacities available for the Master Force. We have a wide range of abilities available from the Master System. So far, we don't know if they are allocated at random or by some obscure rules we haven't figured out so far, but yes, I fit the special forces mold very well, with breaching and entering, crowd control, and range abilities. Some Masters have purely informational abilities, but even then, they are well-equipped to intervene in situations where the Master System is in play. General?"

General Enright was frowning, looking at the assembled party.

"I've met Captain Zacharias already, but… why are there two of her?"

"Ah. Yes, of course. Will Captain Zacharias please come forward?"

Both "Erikas" stepped forward, of course.

"I think the briefing notes about Master Miranda Varlet don't quite reflect the extent of her ability. And to be fair, I haven't looked, so I do not know. How would you go on to figure out which is which?"

"Well, I do remember her freezing that glass, so…"

The two women exchanged looks, then raised simultaneously their left and right hands, respectively, and a sheen of white appeared over the closed fists, the haze of cold rising over it.

"Damned," General Enright exclaimed.

"I look forward to figuring out. Of course, I am familiar with both, so I know what exactly to look for, but I'm not 100% sure if I can. We will now move to the training grounds for the rest of the demonstration."

They started, and Julio slid back alongside Al.

"Want me to cheat?"

"I know our Overseers can still locate Miranda under Mimic, but let me try."

"You could also watch for Kinetic. She can't Avatar both."

"If Erika uses it. Okay, change of plans, I'm not calling for the demonstration of that one. Pass the word to her – I'm not watching you do it."



The two targets exploded nearly simultaneously, projecting burning blocks of wood all over the place. Both Al and Max stepped back, raising their hands after firing Plasma in a synchronous display.

"It's the equivalent of a grenade launcher, but flatter trajectory. We both have the same overall power and effective range, the difference being that Master Magee needs 112 seconds to fire again, while I can fire it after 94 seconds. But outside of that limit, we can fire as many as we want; we don't run out of ammunition."

A few other demonstrations went on, including a near-ballet of Al and Gallant as they slowly waved hands, electric arcs coiling between them. They could have done that pretty much forever as the arc from each recharged the other. There were small losses, but not enough to matter in the demonstration.

General Moretz ended up being the one who expressed skepticism.

"All of this is good, but conventional forces got guns and more troops. Special forces against Masters win, as you've demonstrated when capturing back Bergholz, Captain."

"So far. We were facing amateurs and did it piecemeal, one by one. We were lucky. Give me a few more Levels, and you will need at least a full platoon to neutralize one person. Let me show you our new training field."



The new field mainly looked like the old obstacle course they'd built before, only packed in a smaller area. This one was built just outside the original base area.

Moretz laughed at the sign.

"Darby, eh? Not aiming high, are you?"

"It's just a short track, not a large one," Hector said proudly. "But I tested it. I can't finish it, unlike the original, where I had a decent time."

"How does it work then?" the general asked, taking stock of the bizarre set of challenges.

"By points. You have a handicap at start since Masters cheat all the time. Each part gives you points; the fewer points you accumulate, the better you are. It's the Master's decathlon; not a full Darby."

First came the run track. Hector had promised electronic clocking, but it was all manual for now. Al started to stretch and warm up, looking carefully at the other Masters.

"Well, scratch one," he belatedly realized, attracting a distracted glance from one of the civilians.

He'd hoped the athletic performance from Miranda's Level 2 would be apparent, but when she copied someone, she copied them entirely, even if she didn't duplicate the abilities. That had been one of Carl's hopes – having her pass for the smallest and scrawniest of the squad but run faster than Legs just for the laughs. Alas, she was only as strong as Carl himself when passing for him, and she would now be as strong and fast as Erika despite those enhancements being the byproducts of her abilities.

Sure, Marco Carducci was putting the same handicap in front of the duplicate Erika line.

"How are you going to score them?" he asked Hector.

"Smoke and Farm are keeping track of each. Unless they collide and mix, they should tick each."

"Now, Masters… time's up. Move to start," Hector announced loudly, taking his role as master of the track seriously.

Al moved and briefly looked at the rest before focusing on the track.

"GO!"

He ran. He hadn't had the occasion to let go for a while; the best was what amounted to a light jog. The track wasn't quite a regulation running track, but he finished the first of the two rounds, pumping legs.

"You're sure? The clock…" he heard briefly as he passed back in front of the visitors, focused on the second lap.

He didn't pause as the second round ended, and he almost ran into the last two of the previous lap. He ran to the second obstacle. It was based on the widespread overhang that was a big part of the real Darby. The big difference was the lack of climb posts; you just had a mini-ramp and were supposed to jump and grab the first log. That one was easy. For someone who lifted twice their body weight without even preparing, dragging yourself by the hands was easy.

Hector needs to revise this one; he mentally took note. A Level 2 or 3 might have to exert themselves somewhat, but not anyone beyond.

The third was the irregular surface, logs crossing. But this time, he realized the difference as the logs started squirming and shifting. The entire thing was on springs, so the faster you moved, the more the whole shifted. That one tested the enhanced reflexes of a Master as much as speed.

It would probably not be allowed in regular obstacle courses due to the danger of falling off, but a Master would regenerate broken bones fast.

Fourth came the climbing wall. They hadn't had the time to set this one in concrete and let it cure, so they'd built one with logs and grips drilled into it. He just ran to it, jumped, grabbed one grip randomly, and started hauling himself, not bothering to find one with his feet. The entire wall was twenty-five feet, he estimated, and he reached the top in no time, turning over the last log, and found a rope bridge.

Or at least a rope thing. There was only a single rope crossing between two tall trees, and two ropes set at shoulder level to straighten yourself, without any intermediate ropes tying the three. He ignored those and started walking quickly over the main one. He might not be a trained rope walker, but the Master System increased his reflexes enough to let him correct his continuous mistakes.

The last part was another homage to one Darby Queen, as it had an inclined ladder of wood with bars set at 3-foot intervals, climbing to the point where a rope was set, running down at an angle. He hesitated and played it safe, scrambling down rather than letting himself slide without gloves. Regeneration did not kick in unless you had significant damage, and scraping your palms on a rough rope almost certainly didn't count.

He almost stopped as he found himself in front of seven. A set of five portcullis separated by maybe 20 inches, with wooden doors with handles. The idea, he guessed, was that you'd keep one open while trying to raise the next, move, and so on. The gates might be heavy enough to make it a real challenge to juggle two. If he had to guess, that's where the squad failed.

He, for once, cheated. He ran to the first, put his palm on it, and the gateway shot upward, opening. He rushed, each gate opening with a resounding thud as it reached the top, and in a couple of seconds, he was gone through. Gatekeeper made this a complete joke.

Eight was an obstacle pass. Logs were set across the track, and you were supposed to move over each in turn. It would be trivial to climb and jump from one to the other, but that wasn't the point. Instead, he just jumped over each; legs joined as if he was doing a sack run. The jumps just cleared the logs, but clear they did, and so that worked.

Nine was a set of raised log spikes. You could run on top of each to the left of the field, where they were close to each other, or right, where they spread out more. He ran in the middle, not bothering to score fewer points.

Tenth, according to the arrow painted, was the track again. So he ran, doing his two laps, just a bit slower than the first time.

Finished, he stopped in front of the spectators, breathing heavily. He stood with hands on his thighs, finding himself slightly sore. He'd lacked some good exercise recently, obviously.

One of the generals started clapping, and the others added their congratulations.

"Legs?"

"Excellent score, Main Man."

"Need some adjustments, notably on the handicap, I think. Number two is a wash – it challenges only low Levels."

"You can score better by skipping rungs, you know? One log, one point," Hector replied.

"Oh. Good idea then."

"You never did it before?" one civilian asked.

"No. We had a quick presentation on paper, but that was the first time any of us ran the real course. Since you were visiting, that was the best time to start."

"I'm not familiar with ranger things, but already, the running was completely insane. It was like we were watching an Olympic sprint, except it was two laps. Even the last ones…"

Al smiled as the two Erikas nearly simultaneously reached the end of the track.

"I'm not quite at the minute-mile range, but that's coming."

The rest of the Masters were arriving, and both Julio and Marek looked winded. The latter confirmed, "Not pushing it again until I get Level 3."

"I almost had you, by the way. But I didn't keep track," Al said.

Both Erikas looked at each other.

"Really?" one said.

"What did give it away?" the other asked.

"Kinetic. If you drop from the rope instead of sliding down to the ground, everyone – even me – must bend their legs slightly to soften the drop. But the real Erika lands on straight legs as she absorbs the kinetic energy."

"Damned. I should have switched," one said.

Her figure flowed, turning back into Monica's shape, complete with a sports sweatsuit. Al noted that the little splotches of sweat on the fake uniform had vanished.

General Moretz whistled un-generally.

"You were a mid-rank agent at HQ a few weeks ago, right?"

"It would have been harder if I wasn't copying Erika. Those guys," she threw a look at the assembled squad, "torture me in shape, but I've got a way to go. Even if I break world records after breakfast every day. All of us do."

"Now, you can see why I said the Master Force exceeds normal military standards," Carolus injected. "Even the ones with little offensive abilities."

"Special forces are not just physical capacity. Training is important too," Moretz noted.

"And that's why we have a special forces squad as a training staff," he replied.

The visitors started assembling and heading back toward the base proper.

"The Master Force is not going to lead invasion forces in the Middle East, but if we encounter additional factions empowered by Masters, especially higher Level ones, they're the opposing force we need to deploy to establish control and neutralize Districts."

They kept discussing as they were heading toward the base entrance, the visit coming to an end.

As they stopped at the car park, one of the two civilians came back, looking at Erika in particular. Al remembered he was the German Council delegate.

"I liked the whole thing. Reassures me that the Council isn't entirely wasting the budget on this whole base thing."

"Thanks for the support," Al replied.

"That said, everyone's took notice. And my colleague from your Secretary of State wants one of you to brief and demonstrate Master… stuff back home. More specifically, you, Captain Zacharias."

"Me?"

Carolus was coming quickly, and the council member turned.

"You're getting a notification if you haven't already. But Thomas insisted. So, Captain," he said, turning back, "you have a flight to catch to DC by the week's end. Don't miss it."

As Al and Erika exchanged glances, he added, "You should be back the week after at worst."

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 19 - A HOUSE DIVIDED​

The plane started to bank, and Erika looked through the window at the unfolding landscape. The Potomac was just under, and Dulles was in front and to the side. She couldn't wait to turn on her phone and check if she got an answer, but for now, it was landing, arrival, and checking on whoever was supposed to greet her.

She'd been booked on a civilian flight for this trip rather than a military flight, with an open return ticket, and she intended to take advantage of it, jetlag be damned. The last months had been stressful, to say the least.

A man was waiting in the terminal with a "Captain Erika Zacharias" sign. Despite being out of uniform due to the flight, he immediately noticed her and waved for her attention, just in case.

"Hello," she said, offering her hand, which the man shook immediately.

"Welcome back, captain. Got a car waiting," he said.

"Where are we going? Nobody told me," she asked.

"State Department, Foggy Bottom. They didn't tell you?"

"Nope. And I haven't prepared anything, so, well…"

He hesitated.

"Need a hand?" he offered, looking at her large bag.

"No, I'm good."

She could probably carry an entire family's luggages. One-handed.

They crossed the airport and went straight to the pick-up line, where a car screaming "government" was waiting for them. She shoved her bag in the trunk and dropped herself on the back seat. The man climbed next to her and finally introduced himself.

"Agent Moore."

"Been working at State for long?"

The man ignored her question and just segued into a small prep talk.

"We've got some people wanting to ask questions about this… Master System. What it implies, what gives you these abilities, that kind of thing."

"Sure. That's what I'm here for. How long do you think it will take?"

"Not sure. Enough to get people satisfied. There might be a follow-up; I'll let you know after the meeting."

The driver negotiated the semi-congested highways into DC proper briskly. In no time, Erika found herself brought to a second-floor conference room where a panel of people was waiting for her. She noticed immediately that there were no signs put up to identify any of them. They all looked like usual mid-ranking bureaucrats, with the addition of two military, both colonels from the Air Force, of all things. At least it was less impressive than what she'd been through at NATO, even if larger.

They also asked fewer questions. All of them were pretty basic or questions she had no answer to, like "Why do you think you awakened to this system thing immediately?" or "Why does one ability come before another?"

Unsurprisingly, the one thing they asked for was a demonstration. By then, she was used to these, so she poured water over her finger, letting the drops freeze before hitting the table. Then she covered her left fist in her "frost glove" cover. She then shuffled things on the table by merely putting her finger to the sides, making sure it was obvious she wasn't somehow pushing the water bottle.

Thanks to her fast reflexes, she also had little problem catching it before it crashed into anyone.

She even offered a demonstration, as unconvincing as it was, of Darksight by having someone – Agent Moore volunteered – use a phone flash inches from her eye.

"Can't show more than that. Too much clouds, or I'd go outside and look straight at the sun."

The audience seemed nonplussed by the demonstrations. She caught people exchanging glances as if they'd expected more. Al would have been a lot more spectacular.

"Now what?" she asked Moore as the people started to leave.

Two of them joined the Agent, and he exchanged glances with them. She noted they all had visitor badges, just like Moore himself, which made her doubt the man was actually a DSS Agent.

"Well, we have a second objective now."

"Objective?"

"Let's head out."

This time, they packed themselves into two different cars and started moving out of DC. The small motorcade headed northwest, along the Potomac, heading into the forested area. She was not entirely surprised when the two vehicles veered off the highway into the exit lane labeled CIA. The cars stopped at the entrance booth and, after a quick vetting, went inside. She was expecting to head to the main building, but they made their way to a smaller building to the side, where the drivers dropped them. Instead of heading into that building, Agent Moore and his colleagues went around it, and she followed before she stopped abruptly.

The geodesic metallic dome was unmistakably a District Control Dome. This control base looked coppery and golden instead of the silver steel glint of the European versions or the bronze look of the Sahara District.

Erika could feel the humor of having a control and monitoring base pop in the CIA's backyard. Maybe the Master System, as alien as it was, had a sense of humor when it came to human things. After all, it provided understanding to the Masters that came under its sway.

"Well, I can now guess why I was suddenly called to the USA. So, Moore, is this what you really wanted to show me? Since when did you have that one?"

Agent Moore clearly debated answering before deciding it probably couldn't hurt.

"It popped here during the night a week ago. And thanks to a few people briefed on it in the CIA; it didn't take too long to recognize what it had to be. It perfectly matches the photos we got from that 'Bergholz' place."

She turned back to the Dome, considering.

"And here I am, courtesy of the NATO, and my boss was apparently not told any of this."

"You are a captain of the United States Army, Zacharias. You're not here 'courtesy' of anyone."

"I am not a captain of the US Army. Didn't you listen to my explanations back at State? I am now a Master, and I am affiliated exclusively with NATO. Period."

"All US military personnel serve in NATO at the discretion of the USA. You are a US soldier and…"

"Right. Good. Then recall me."

The wince on Agent Moore told her exactly how well this would go.

"You tried that already, right? Just like with Al Varanson."

Moore looked aggravated.

"So. What do you want from me," she said again.

"We've started screening people for the gene NATO detected for abilities. But we've had no success finding any… awakened Master people yet. Since the reports indicate that exposing people to abilities is enough to awaken them, we hoped we could get some of our people…"

"Is that what the meeting was about?" she realized.

"Yes. All the people attending were screened for the OPN3LW gene. Including us three. Since that failed, we are going to do it like you do, inside the control dome."

"It's just a tradition rather than a real need. And that aside, I think it's a bad idea."

"Listen, captain, we are not going to be beholden..."

"Stop. You still don't think with the Master System. It is an alien system that is pervasive enough to alter the laws of physics as needed, monitors everything – and I assume everything – and intervenes when you fall under the rules it's enforcing. You had an example with those recall orders. And those rules say I am a NATO Master. The instant I step inside that Dome, I am going to establish a claim upon it in the name of NATO. Are you okay with that from me?"

"No, absolutely not. We want that Dome in the name of the United States of America."

"That's an even worse idea."

Moore bristled.

"Captain Zacharias, if you persist in refusing to act in the interests of your country…"

"No, I am trying to prevent you from making a mistake. Listen carefully."

Moore threw her a dubious look.

"Let's say, hypothetically, that you manage to awaken someone. Then, that person goes inside that dome and says, 'This dome belongs to the USA,' establishing the faction of the United States of America."

"That's our goal."

"Then, within the range of this District, which I have no idea how large it is, anyone who is a citizen of the USA can awaken, and no one else."

"That's our…"

"Anyone. A gangbanger in DC. A survivalist who wants to overthrow the 'evil' government. An infiltrated ISIL sympathizer that just got naturalized. Any random person, good or bad, as long as they have the right gene and a valid American citizenship."

The look on Moore's face showed that he was slowly realizing the problem.

"We know it's much easier to awaken if you're a member of a faction in charge of your district. How many people are in the DC metro area? Six million or more? The instant you claim it in the name of the USA, you're going to start tens or hundreds of ticking clocks within this District's border. With zero way to control who, or even find them."

Moore looked stumped.

"And if… we claim it in the name of the Government of the USA?"

"It might work. But then, again, I have no idea how the Master System will define how wide this 'Government' faction would be. Since we're next to DC, you'll likely have a wide swath of people that remain potential Masters."

She made a pained face.

"The smaller the official faction, the easier it will be to control the awakening of a new Master. Even NATO is nearly too big. We already had a spontaneous awakening. We wouldn't even have known she'd awakened if we had not had three Districts already. So, you'd be better off by claiming for a specific agency instead of a very generic faction. You would just have to be careful about how people join this agency, and you'd be golden."

"This… might work. It would delay things a bit. I need to consult with the House."

Ah ah. So, "Agent Moore" – which might even be his real name – was working with the White House. Probably an agent of the secret service. That agency had shifted back and forth between the direct control of the White House and DHS every four or eight years, like clockwork.

"The Secret Service would be a good fit, yes."

The look on Moore was confirmation enough. Erika hoped Agent Moore never played poker or any bluff game, his face was far too easy to read. She didn't have any perceptive abilities so far, but she had not needed any.

"But we still need you to awaken me. Or any one of these candidates."

"And again, that's not going to happen. I'm a faction Master, and I cannot – I stress this again, cannot, at all, no matter how – use my abilities to benefit another faction. Unless it benefits mine too."

"We are not a Master faction yet?"

"It probably doesn't matter. Awakening is not easy. We've debriefed Master Rataj extensively. The original founder of the Polish Supremacy faction, Oskar Kowal, never managed to awaken his twin brother by showing his Lighter ability. Not until he decided that he would use his abilities in the name of their gaming group. Then, Janosz Kowal was awakened the very next time he saw Oskar's floating light globe. Since he was already a group member, he could now be awakened by a Master of his own faction. If you want awakening without a Master faction, you need to get lucky and hope lightning strikes your tree."

"But Captain Varanson managed to when he saw the Polish terrorists in action."

"It's different. Master Varanson awoke his abilities after killing Janosz Kowal. He had knocked out another Master and had seen many abilities already, but he only awoke once he killed Kowal. The Master System seems to… put a lot more weight in combat between rival Masters, and even more to combat to the death."

She was looking at Moore when instinct and a sudden movement in her peripheral vision triggered her. One of the other two had started to move his hand, and she had previously noticed he'd picked back a weapon holster after leaving the offices of the State Department.

"Be aware that I might construe this as an attack on a NATO representative and find you a threat. And I can take out all of you probably very easily."

"Come on, Captain. No need to be paranoid."

"I think someone trying to pull a weapon at the instant I implied my death might awaken one of you is not very paranoid at all."

"If you are suggesting that we would kill an American citizen in cold blood…"

"To further the greater interests of the United States of America? Certainly. It would be very stupid of you to do, but I have no doubt some of you might think that a valid solution."

They all stared at her.

"Not that you are likely to succeed. You've never faced a Master. My offensive abilities as a Level 3 may pale compared to others, but I've got sprint speed around twice that of an Olympic athlete, and I can close the range in seconds. I have reflexes fast enough to avoid most bullet fire outside of a machine gun or sniper fire. I can break bones… and freeze you to death with a single touch. I touch your head; you're knocked down from shock. I can turn any item into a deadly projectile aimed where I want, including the pebbles under my foot. All that talk back at State isn't talk, it's fact."

The three were slowly starting to spread around her, trying to offer the least target.

"Understand this. I am certainly not threatening federal agents of the USA with anything. I'm just explaining facts. Besides, the USA is a founding member of NATO. It would be stupid to start a fight against your own assets. In any case, our Overseers know exactly where I am…"

At least, they would if they were in this District or an adjacent one, until Julio or Marek leveled and their range increased. But the agents were not supposed to know that detail.

"… and if you manage to kill me, NATO will instantly know. And even this isn't a guarantee. We think it's the only event significant enough to awaken someone, but no one's tested it."

She forced herself to drop her hands, letting the frost cover that she'd raised without even noticing slowly sublimate.

"So why don't we go to the nice offices next door, and you call your boss, and I call mine, and we figure out a solution, like nice civilized Americans would?"

No one moved.





"They were going to try to assassinate you to get their faction going?" Carolus blurted on the phone.

"It didn't go that far, but at least one of them immediately considered doing it, consequences be damned."

"I will talk very seriously with the American envoy here at HQ. The USA should stop trying to go at it alone. Not when they have a perfectly fine instrument to use the Master System in the form of NATO. Them sniping every DNA testing machine they can find is already bad, but this…"

"The White House and the Pentagon may consider that too much of a dilution of their… authority. I mean, they're still first among equals, but having to negotiate with other NATO countries if they want to use the Master Force for their personal objectives…"

She heard the massive sigh from Zimmer across the phone line.

"Ok, so far, the situation has de-escalated on your side. You're probably stuck for a few days until I can finally persuade someone that getting at least a NATO claim on the Dome will increase the security of the USA. I can trot out the example of the Bremen MC. Thank god, it's the only excitement I have for now."

She hung up, feeling conflicted. Then, Moore and his two flunkies finally came back. She looked and took note of the irritated look.

"The House says… you're good to go."

"I'm not the one who pulled up a gun in the middle of CIA's headquarters," she noted, throwing a look at the agent in question.

Moore ignored the barb.

"The driver is going to take you back to Washington. Just tell me which hotel you've booked so I know where to find you."

"I'll take the nearest car rental, rather. I've made other plans."

"I need to know where to find you…"

"Fine," she snapped, picking up a notebook and scribbling the required information before ripping out the page and handing it.

Moore looked and raised an eyebrow.

 

[Vincent Archer]

CHAPTER 20 - NOT THANKSGIVING YET​

The house was nearly unchanged from the last time. The one thing that had changed was a tree next to the driveway that she was sure had not been there and had not had time to grow. She parked the rental, and went to ring the door.

"Erika!!! Come and give your big sis a hug!"

They fell into each other's arms.

Olivia's home was just a hundred miles from Washington, and she had managed to make it. However, she was starting to feel the hit from jetlag – it would be close to 1 AM in Bergholz, way past sleep hour, even on weekends.

"Left work early to be there for you since I had no idea when you'd be there. Natalie won't be back from preschool until Luc picks her there."

"How's she? Growing like hell, I assume."

"If she doesn't stop, she'll be 7-feet before fifteen."

"That's what you get from picking a 6'7" husband."

"Hey, I did not pick him for the size."

"They all say that size doesn't matter, but that's not true."

The two sisters burst into laughter.

"So, you're back in the States."

"For a short one, yes."

"You're still with that colonel? How long has it been, 3 years? Typical detachment is five, so you've only got two years until reassignment back here."

That was not going to happen, Erika realized. She'd avoided thinking about that, but the Master System would play havoc with her career and life. It might not even let her retire, at least on paper.

"Murchison has taken over a base in East Germany. He dragged me with him, and, well, that's where I am now."

"Southern Germany, Eastern Germany, same thing. Good that he got a promotion, though. That will help your advancement, right?"

"No idea. I'm no longer under him…" she stopped herself.

"Oh? Change of things? Tell me all."

"Sorry, it's classified."

"Ooooh, even better. My little sister finally gets to do something exciting! Well, I'm sure there are bits that are not classified, right?"

Mostly all, Erika thought.

"Got poached by another branch. I'm still in the Army, just more operational things. Which let me travel a bit more and push less paper, I guess. We go and fix special problems."

"Oooh, like what?"

"Like classified problems. Seriously, it's all very deep classification, so stop digging."

"You're no fun. All that military classified this and that."

"What would you be able to say about your audits?"

"NDAs are not the same as classifications! You don't get to jail for breaking them."

"So…?"

"Okay, not breaking the latest six. Although one is spicy."

Olivia had been working in finance auditing for a couple of years now, moving up already from simple accounting to more complex things.

"Here we are, unable to talk about our jobs…"

"Well, it's not as if they're exciting. Although with your change of…"

"Not telling!" Erika warned.

"Not digging!"

"So, what's up with you and Luc?"

"Trying again. I've forgotten enough of the first two years with Natalie that I'd want another. After last year's failure, we waited a bit, made sure nothing was wrong, but now's a good time. She's almost getting too old to have a little sister or brother."

Erika started to yawn.

"God, I'm tired. Jetlag is hell. And it will be worse when I return to Germany, I guess."

"Want to crash?"

"No, I'll stay till niece and brother-in-law are there. Say at least hello."

"How long are you staying?"

"No idea. I was called to do something – classified, remember – and there was a snag, and my boss is trying to clear it so that I can finish. One day, three days? More?" she speculated. "If it's not looking good next week, I'll probably be recalled, and I'll come back when everything is cleared, I guess."

"So, no chance of you staying until Thanksgiving then."

"Two weeks? No chance."

"Can't you take some leave then? You do have leave accumulated, right?"

Erika probably had.

"These days, I need to be on alert and ready to go in, like, two days. Leave is going to be complicated," she realized.

"You weren't kidding when you said more operational. Fast deployment, uh? I know, I know, classified," Olivia said, preventively raising her hands in defense.

"Yes. So, I'm probably missing Thanksgiving. Since Mom and Dad… you took over that. And I'm going to miss this year. Probably."



Erika was out of bed at 5 AM, of course. She'd barely said hello to a brother-in-law looking perky and a hyperactive niece who'd just realized that "Aunt Erika is there! Aunt Erika is there!" before crashing into one of the spare rooms. And, of course, jetlag insisted she'd now overslept at five in the morning.

She'd started a whole coffee pot and put on the news with headphones to avoid waking up the house on a Saturday. Saturday was morning cartoons and grocery shopping and all that, not hurrying for work. Let them sleep.

Well, except, of course, a hyperactive 4-year who'd come bouncing to see "soldier aunt Erika."

"Don't wake up your parents, or else…"

"No. They never do! You're here long?"

"The weekend, at least. Maybe a bit more. Want something?"

"Yesss!"

"Pancakes?"

"Mommy never makes pancakes. It's all yucky cereals with nasty fruit loops."

"Really?"

"Well, not nasty. Except Miss Zarah says too much sugar."

"She's probably not wrong. So, Pancakes?"

"Yessss!"

"Enjoy your aunt. That's only for today, though. If your mom says no pancakes, then no pancakes."

The two householders dragged themselves down a bit later, joining in the breakfast as Olivia settled her in front of the TV with a carefully curated set of cartoons streamed from their home storage appliance.

"Going to do the shopping. Can you keep…?"

"Her safe? Captain's duty," she mock-saluted.

"If she says she's seen it, she probably has. Finding new cartoons to watch is a chore."

"I'll try to keep up. See you!"

Erika remembered how short a four-year Natalie's attention span had been, and she doubted six months had changed her that much. Still, the niece dutifully sat in front of the widescreen, and Erika started to peruse a few punditry channels on her phone to catch up with home politics. No self-serving military officer failed to keep track of such, but the last months had been… distracting, she had to admit.

Signs of economy overheating, various sides accusing the other of all the world's woes, and discussions of international tensions. The world often felt like it was a vast set of springs, getting close and distant in turns. Mentions of NATO perked her interest, but there was nothing special about these. Just ordinary speculations if NATO was the right instrument, notably in the Middle East, where technically, 90% of the troublemakers weren't involved with NATO on both sides.

She felt a little something and heard "Wow."

She looked up and spotted Natalie looking at her. Or rather, at the basketball she'd just tried to hit her with.

"Hmmm?"

"Usually, mommy gets annoyed when I get her attention," the kid said unabashedly.

She laughed and stopped when Natalie added, "Though the ball bounces off."

She looked down and swore internally. Kinetic. She had a finite energy store, just over eleven kilo-joules, as measured by the District research staff. Since she was the only Kinetic Master in NATO – the other two known Masters with the ability being dead – no one knew if it was proportional to her mass or simply a round unit of whatever the aliens used.

But she routinely shed energy, leaving her with a little buffer to absorb some. A ball wouldn't carry more than a few joules, probably less if thrown by a kid. If she didn't pay attention, she'd automatically steal the energy. She didn't steal everything, just little bits like that. The less energy she had stored, the more she would pick. It was when she accelerated objects that things went dangerous.

"That's because your aunt is special. Balls don't bounce. They sliiiide off. That way, she can pick it and throw it back!" she said, making immediately good of the promise.

That immediately sparked an improvised match. Nathalie had no chances – thanks to her enhanced reflexes, she couldn't miss the ball, although she still let Natalie score a few points. She had to put a stop when the ball started bouncing off furniture too far away.



"Was she good?" Olivia asked as they put down the groceries.

"Perfect. Just a break between shows, or she's bored."

"You were, Nat?"

"Yes, mommy!"

She turned and started sorting the bags, and Erika joined her. She was turning toward the fridge when she felt a little touch again.

"Mommy, the ball doesn't bounce."

She turned and saw and reflexively grabbed the smaller golf ball thrown her way.

"Awww. I wanted to see the slide."

"Natalie! What did I say about throwing things like that kid in your school?"

Erika spotted Olivia looking at the basketball, frowning. Her sister was smart and observant – both qualities that helped in her auditor job. It was apparent she'd noticed something that bothered her.

Erika sighed. Trust kids to lock onto the bizarre immediately and try the funny stuff again.

"Mom?"

"Go bother your father," Olivia shot back.

Erika watched the kid saunter back when she felt a tiny bump. She turned and looked as Olivia threw her a peanut. She caught it reflexively.

"The first one didn't bounce. At all."

"Classified," she said before immediately regretting the impulse.

Olivia frowned deeper.

"I'm sorry, but that's it."

"And that wasn't normal. It's like the peanut forgot it was flying. Like Nat's ball."

"And I can't explain anything to you. Got the Secret Service already mad at me; I don't want to stir even more trouble."

"What are you involved in, Erika Zacharias?"

Erika crossed her arms and stayed silent.

Olivia crossed hers and looked pointedly at her sister.

"I don't want anything happening to my sister," she finally relented. "There's not much family left outside of Cousin Arthur."

"I'm still there. It's just that I am involved in things a bit more unusual compared to logistics. And I can't talk about it," she said, and immediately forestalled, "and yes, it involves military operations, and they're all classified. If the classification drops, I'll be on the phone five minutes later."

Olivia stayed silent.



The tension that had sprung was slowly draining. Luc had, of course, noticed that something had to have happened, but he didn't inquire. Natalie remained oblivious to her mother's worry and kept on asking for walks, which the family and Erika obliged until she simply crashed.

Sunday was back to normal, although Olivia studiously avoided asking too much about Erika's new activities.

She was perusing the copious amount of press that Luc subscribed to from all over the nearby States, against every habit of his generation, when she stopped on a copy of the Detroit Free Press on page 3.

The title was simply: Spiderman Robber escapes by climbing across walls!

"Really? Spiderman?" she mumbled.

The article was short, and included an extremely blurry picture. The guy was spotted and escaped by climbing and then running across the wall. The journalist speculated between a hoax and a movie stunt of some sort for viral marketing.

She pulled out her phone, took a scan of the article, and called Zimmer's personal number. Her new speculations could wait, but this couldn't.





Erika was waiting in the driveway when Agent Moore arrived and exited the car. Everyone had already left, and she had already left the house key in the designated cache.

"Hello, Moore."

"Captain Zacharias. You're ready?"

"Yes, my boss notified me earlier to expect you. Frankly, I was starting to think we'd have to let the whole situation rot and let you sweat. So let's get this done, and I'll head to Dulles, where I hear a flight is waiting for me to jump on."

He looked at the rental, then his car.

"Okay, I'll return the car at the nearest, and you can drive me if that makes you feel better."

The open rental arrangement helped, and there was an office in the nearby town, so she wasted no time, signing the return form and climbing next to Moore with her bag on the rear seat.

"We got the information. Nobody made the connection before."

"So, you've got at least one random rogue Master running around. An obvious Sticker, although by the way he's described using it, he might be a Level 2."

"And you've explained in great detail how this remains a possibility unless we lock down the area. Unfortunately."

"This CIA control base probably does not cover Detroit. From the average district size we've seen, this would be the one next door."

"We'll take what we can. For now. And try to identify our… Spiderman in the meantime."

"You might be lucky, and there are other districts active nearby."

"I thought you had a Master that could check remotely?"

"Not from Europe, that's why we didn't know about Maclean. We have a Steward Master who can check remotely some stuff, but the furthest we can get from Schlöss Base is Prince Charles Island. At one point, we will expand our perimeter in case there's one everyone missed, but that's complicated."

"Why?"

"Former terrorist turned NATO asset… courtesy of the Master System. The Polizei doesn't know about that detail."

Erika thought a bit.

"The bases seem to pop on places that are somehow related to military, defense, or stretching things, the CIA stuff. If there's one, you will probably notice the dome popping up as soon as the district becomes active. It's not 100% certain, but it's a strong possibility. Until then, all we can do is let you monitor the adjacent Districts so you will know that something has popped up there."





"And the district comes online… now."

The claim panel vanished, and the Maclean Base Interface came online. Two of the agents almost jumped in surprise.

"This is it?"

"Yes. The District is now claimed for NATO, and the base functions are now available. You can control it with simple gestures."

Moore waved his hands across the holographic pane without success.

"Won't work if you're not NATO, though. The Interface knows your affiliation and won't let you control any function if you're not a valid member. We had to re-hire some of the research staff directly just for that."

"Inconvenient."

"That's why we will have a handful of people coming to help since you need at least one around for practical purposes. But I'll set up the most important panel views so you can monitor it using our software translators."

She scrolled through the various views on the principal panel, while the agents watched carefully. The stick writing was opaque to them, but the maps were easily recognizable.

"Nope, no active or activating districts adjacent."

She pointed to one of the districts on the side view she'd just set up.

"That's the one that includes Detroit if I'm not mistaken. Still inactive. You can only monitor adjacent districts without a Steward, and he's definitively not coming to the States. I'm done."

"And you still can't activate any of us?"

"Unless you have your papers in order for your NATO transfer, no can do. Nobody but NATO-affiliated can do so in the whole area, now."

"How would you know?"

"I wouldn't. The Master System would. We haven't found any way to cheat it yet. And given what it does, I'm not sure we can."

"I still can't accept that it's impossible."

"This is not Hollywood, Moore. We don't have a scriptwriter making our aliens stupid and incompetent with their own technologies and letting us infect them with a virus on a laptop. So far, we're… basically a bunch of Australopithecus trying to cheat with a Google Security AI. Maybe we'll figure out things, but we might also be a million years behind in tech."

"So we have to play the game?"

"If that's their game, then yes."