Chapter 3.6
Wildbow owns Worm
Thanks to
@DrYuriMom for her excellent co-writing!
September 1st, 6:00 am
Brockton Bay, NH
Hebert Household
After a delicious omelet breakfast and a quick few minutes of dressing, Taylor and family stood at the side of the layout once again. The sun was just beginning to rise, with the initial fingers of its light splaying across the waters of the Bay and the highrises in Downtown. Taylor had her hands on her hips as she took in this sight being reflected on the layout. "So Mom, any last-minute bits of wisdom before I jump in? Maybe an adjustment to my image or something I should or shouldn't do? Where should I meet them?"
Annette couldn't help but grin at her daughter's puppy-dog-like enthusiasm. It was refreshing in a world where those granted powers like hers were often broken in the process of receiving them, if not long before. Annette now realized she had been similarly fortunate to receive powers through mostly second-hand suffering, a month in the hospital as a child perhaps notwithstanding. Even better for her daughter, Taylor wasn't left hating the world, or a good portion of it, like she and her cousin.
Most of all, despite her memories of the previous night's visit with her sister-in-all-but-name being vague, she realized from the experience that Taylor had a good head on her shoulder and Annette should let her use it.
She and Danny had never subscribed to the now vogue concept of helicopter parenting, and the wisdom the Lattice was granting her made clear she brought her own baggage into her interpretations of the past and the future. More listening, reflection, and meditation, and less talking, was her new watchword. More than anything, her power was humbling.
Taylor needed to do Taylor, with some gentle questions and guidance where warranted.
"Well, first off, it would cause the heroes if not the Amtrak officials to raise an eyebrow if you appeared before they showed up. While you may have a public persona and you may even unmask to achieve your dreams, I and my abilities should be kept between us. There may come a point in the future where I go public as it were, but it will likely be for someone else and not you. And I'm uncertain enough over that I'd rather not say any more for now. Like you, I'm still learning my powers. And unlike you, mine didn't come with a user's manual."
Taylor nodded very emphatically, "Of course, Mom. They'll never need to know or even find out that you're helping me. It's not my place to let any of that information out." She hugged Annette on her good right side, "So, how do you suggest I proceed? Wait until they call my name or they grow impatient and start marching towards the gate adjacent to the Roundhouse area?"
"Oh, we
definitely don't want them nosing around the Roundhouse," Annette emphasized with her hands up in a warding motion. "Have you been able to successfully slip the Corporal away from Stan and Jeff? Is he waiting at the gate to the passenger terminal parking lot now?" Annette gazed from her wheelchair at the brightening scene of the layout.
"My power doesn't give me omniscience," she explained while marveling again at the bird's eye panorama afforded by her daughter's power. "I can see possibilities and their various probabilities, but I need input from my own senses or someone else to tell me what actually happens at each decision point. I can attempt to infer actions based on the changing possibilities and probabilities each action brings, but it's not as helpful for interpreting what the Lattice shows me as knowing for sure what happened."
"Right right… um," Taylor paused to focus on the layout and the tiny blue figures that represented the railroad police officers. "Yep, he's away. Stan and Jeff are asleep and The Corporal is on a patrol of the fence. He can be at the Passenger Terminal gate in a couple of minutes."
Annette nodded, her eyes drifting in and out of focus much like her daughter even as her gaze moved to the Trainyards on the layout. "They'll be punctual so there is some time yet. I would suggest you let it play out like previous requests for your presence have been handled. Your men will greet them and direct them to the Amtrak terminal building. You'll be summoned by the Corporal and you can meet them there. It's the territory Amtrak is most familiar with and honestly it's what they care about. I don't see any need to change your appearance. That was my own fear speaking to me yesterday, not my power. I'm still learning to tell the difference."
Annette reached up to draw her daughter into a reassuring hug. "You're doing fine, little owl. I need to stop making you doubt your instincts. Literally the only guidance I have for this meeting is to acknowledge you can't sign a contract but that your parents are able to witness the meeting," she paused mid-sentence to put a hand to her mouth but her eyes were still visible and they suggested laughter even as silence reigned for a moment.
It took but a moment for her to recompose herself and she continued, "and that you are obtaining our approval for whatever you feel is the right thing to do." Annette's focus glazed for a moment, then she refocused on her daughter. "They'll ask to meet with us together. Tell them we'll meet in the same place you meet with them this morning. Unless I somehow muddle your actions or reactions and mess up the probabilities, it'll all work fine if you just be you."
Taylor grinned, "I can do that! Still, that's a few minutes away. While I direct the Corporal to wait for the visitors, would you like to help Emma and I finish working on her other projects we have laid out here? I don't want you to get bored while waiting."
"Sure," Annette chirped. "Although I would think your father might be more helpful given I'm kinda limited at the moment."
"Nah, you'll be fine!" Taylor insisted and began picking things off the workbench. "You can do some painting while I pretend to be a clamp for the piece you're working on and a stand for the paint you'll be using. Here, take this paintbrush and I'll hold everything steady for you."
Annette grasped the brush as directed and thanked her luck that she still had free use of her dominant hand. Annette was actually not terribly bad at drawing with pen, pencil, and curiously enough, professional crayon. But she hadn't used a brush for something other than painting a room since she was Taylor's age. Still, she could see the confidence in Taylor's eyes and it was infectious.
"Well, here goes," she said more casually than she felt. She dipped the brush in the proffered little paint vial and carefully applied the brush where Emma was helpfully directing. She did her best to keep her brush strokes even and was grateful for the helpful comments from all present, including her husband.
It was a picture-perfect family moment to ward off her anxieties as she inwardly stared into the heart of the Lattice.
----------------
September 1st, 6:30 am
Brockton Bay Trainyard
Passenger Terminal
The rising sun saw Armsmaster and Miss Militia pull up to the passenger terminal parking lot on their individual motorcycles. The Tinker Protectorate leader had a special bike he had built and maintained himself while Miss Militia had the more standard cycle that was traditionally issued to the PRT and Non-Tinker heroes. The lot was gated off and a sedan marked Amtrak Police sat idling outside.
"Well, we're here on time," The fully armored Armsmaster said as he pointed at the sedan. "It seems they beat us here."
"That's understandable," Miss Militia replied, "They're worried about their investment and property here." She waved at the individuals in the car.
The driver of the sedan parked on the side of the road waved back, his chocolate-toned skin in contrast to the others in the car. He motioned to the gate where stood a pair of Dispatcher's railroad police, including the one called the Corporal. It seemed the Amtrak folks were waiting for the heroes to make first contact and facilitate entry into the parking lot.
Armsmaster nodded in reply to the gestures of the driver and drove his bike up to the gate itself. His helmet prompter recommended a friendly greeting and so he gave one. "Good morning, Corporal. You've gotten an early start today."
The projection returned the greeting with a cheerful smile, "Good day to you too, Armsmaster. Dispatcher felt that we should be on hand to greet you this morning."
The Tinker hero frowned. "How did your Master know that we were coming today? We didn't exactly broadcast it to you."
"You didn't have to, sir. Stan Vickery did all that for you. Dispatcher saw his broadcast and knew that Amtrak would be coming by to investigate at some point and decided to send us ahead to meet you." The Corporal shrugged, "Dispatcher is an intelligent girl and she knew that Amtrak would want to get their train running as soon as possible. Therefore, my partner and I are here to help with that."
Armsmaster thought on that and finally nodded in approval. "That was well thought out of her. May we pass into the parking lot?"
"Of course. Here, let me open the gate for you." The two projections grasped the gate and began pulling it open. The gate freely began to roll open under their guidance.
Armsmaster was surprised to find it was unlocked but he reasoned that since the terminal had been under Merchant 'protection' that there was no need for one. He nodded his thanks and drove into the lot, followed by Miss Militia and the sedan. He selected a parking space and Miss Militia drove into the one next to him. They both dismounted and the heroine took off her helmet and left it on the seat of her bike. Since a helmet was part of his armor, Armsmaster did not do this. He walked over to the parking sedan, with Miss Militia close behind him.
The driver and a uniformed officer opened their doors and climbed out of the front seats of the car. None of the car's occupants had been on video during the call the previous night, but it was reasonable to assume the tall man in a sharp suit was John Fitzgerald and the diminutive woman in an immaculate Amtrak police uniform was Denise Watson. The two had nearly two foot difference between them, a striking contrast as they came to walk side-by-side. Together, both confidently made their way to the heroes, with John in the lead and his hand held out to Armsmaster who was closest. "Senior Inspector John Fitzgerald at your service."
The hero gently shook the man's large, neatly manicured hand. He didn't want to crush it with his armored hand after all. That would be bad form. "Armsmaster, Head of the East Northeast Protectorate team. This is my Deputy, Miss Militia. We are at
your service, sir."
"Seems to be a lot of service going around so far," the inspector noted with a cheerful smile and nod to the lady hero. "Hopefully the trend will continue."
"Armsmaster, Miss Militia," the younger woman standing beside the inspector spoke up in a lilting soprano born of New England. "My name is Denise Watson, Lieutenant Amtrak Police. I'm head of security for the Amtrak Downeaster and its corridor including all stations along the way. Brockton Bay falls under my oversight and I'm familiar with this facility. It's my sincere hope we can sort this out and get our train back to Boston today. We just need to be assured of the safety of the train, our employees, and our riding public."
John nodded down to his colleague to nod before continuing her train of thought as he returned his gaze to Armsmaster. "It's our job to try and get those assurances from Dispatcher. Any suggestions on how we get her attention, and on the timeline we discussed last night?"
The two projections came walking up to the group after fully opening and securing the gate. The one with the corporal's pin on his three-piece suit's lapel hailed them and held out his hand for John to shake. "Good morning Sir, Miss. I am called The Corporal. I am in charge of Dispatcher's security. She has been made aware of your presence. She is merely waiting for the right moment to make herself known. Shall we retreat to the terminal and find a place to meet?"
John took the Corporal's hand and gave it a firm grip. "Do you mind if Lieutenant Watson inspects the facility first and then gives the all clear? Our colleagues are civilians and we wish to minimize any risk to them. I hope you can forgive our caution, but the facts on the ground have changed since we were last here and we need to start from the ground up to re-establish the safety of the area."
The Corporal shook John's hand warmly and said, "Of course not, go right ahead Lieutenant Watson. We have not gone into the buildings ourselves, but we have made sure that no wandering Merchants or other vagrants went inside in the last day since the battle."
"We appreciate it...um..sir?" the uniformed Amtrak officer stumbled. "Forgive me, but I'm not sure of the rank structure right now. In most forces a corporal is well junior to a lieutenant, but you appear to have the authority for your team which by our observations appears to be in excess of a dozen. What exactly should I call you, if you don't mind me asking? I'll never hear the end of it if I am the cause for blowing these negotiations. Since I'm the only one of my delegation wearing a uniform, I need to think of protocol."
"Well, we projections do not have names, only titles. I do think Dispatcher was thinking of assigning certain of us names, however. You may call me…" The Corporal looked to the sky and appeared deep in thought for a moment, "Jackson, Steven Jackson. Or Corporal Jackson if you prefer." The projection suddenly glowed a little brighter for a moment, then dimmed below his previous ethereal threshold until he seemed more solid than before.
"Thank you for clarifying that, Corporal Jackson," Lieutenant Watson said, relief evident on her vaguely oriental features crowned by close-cut copper-ish hair. It surprised most observers that she was a front line officer. At exactly 4 foot 10 inches and a shape that could easily be mistaken for a tweener boy with her well-developed musculature only marginally softened by a feminine softness, she was easy to overlook. "I truly hope these negotiations go well. I'm Brockton Bay born and bred and would like to see service resume soon."
With a nod, the uniformed officer almost flowed up the ramp to the facility and began entering and leaving various spaces on both sides of the tracks in an effort to professionally certify the area secure. The heroes and the Corporal noted that in addition to her service 9mm and billy club, the woman had a long dagger secured to her waist in a scabbard that prevented identification other than to suggest it was straight. On her frame, it looked more like a short sword. The handle looked polished but well worn. It was the blade and the club, not the service Glock, that was most ready for her right hand, assuming that was her dominant side.
"Watson is a remarkable woman," the greying inspector noted as an aside to the Corporal as the tiny form made quick but thorough work of her assignment. "She's former Army. Never met a nastier knife fighter. When she made lieutenant in the force, she was overjoyed to take over security for the Downeaster since it served her hometown. This even though the Downeaster is seen as a pretty terrible assignment for career progression. She made the decision to interrupt service yesterday, but took it pretty personally and would rather die than be the cause of this delegation failing this morning. She'll be on the train if it runs and woe betide anyone, parahuman or otherwise, that tries to hurt an Amtrak employee or passenger when she's present."
"Then she is in good company, Senior Inspector. Dispatcher wants your trains to run safely as well. It would be pretty bad press if she didn't, considering her abilities and personality," the newly named Corporal Jackson pointed out. "Not to mention, she is a 13-year-old whose family has raised her well. She doesn't want to see any innocents get hurt when she has the power to prevent it."
"No one will be happier than I if time bears that out, Corporal. Ah, here comes our good lieutenant now."
"Inspector Fitzgerald, all appears clear," she announced in an official reporting voice. "All the spaces appear unmolested and the locks were all intact. I checked behind all doors, including those left locked, and there is nothing out of order. The expected layer of dust everywhere is undisturbed. I believe our operations experts will be safe assuming you find the parahuman elements to be non-threatening, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Fitzgerald nodded to the human before turning to the projection. "So, Corporal, where do we go from here? I'll go and free the ladies from the car, but I assume negotiations are above your pay grade?"
"You are correct, sir," Corporal Jackson nodded. "If you choose a conference room in the terminal, I and my cohort will escort you there and Dispatcher will appear when you call upon her."
"I'll let you and the Lieutenant work out the best place to meet. I'll be right back with Dr. Giles and Ms. Enders." The inspector left swiftly on his retrieval mission.
"This facility hasn't been well-used in a very long time, Corporal Jackson," Watson noted. "Brockton Bay isn't a passenger hub, a sad fact that goes back long before the current downturn. The main conference room hasn't seen use in a while. Would you mind waiting here for the others while I go police it up a bit?"
"Of course, go right ahead," Jackson invited.
The androgynous woman bolted back into the building with cat-like grace. It seemed apparent she didn't intend to present a rate-limiting step to the proceedings. The Corporal noted the route the Lieutenant took.
With the departure of the Amtrak uniformed police, the Corporal's attention returned to the rest of the delegation. Inspector Fitzgerald had opened the back passenger-side door and leaned in a moment to hold what looked like a brief conversation. He then backed away and a slim but buxom woman in her apparent 50's and wearing an eye-matching evergreen pantsuit slipped from the car and took a look around her, seeming to take in every detail. Her waist-length blonde hair rustled slightly in the light breeze.
The back door on the opposite side opened and a more robust but similarly dressed woman just a few inches shorter stepped out and closed the door behind her. Her brown hair was shoulder length which matched well with the darker grey of her outfit similar in style to her colleague. She made her way immediately to join the others. She carried a portfolio in one hand and a pen in the other. The obvious conclusion would be that this was the scribe of the team.
After a few more words huddled together, John led the team of three humans back up the ramp to join the Corporal on the landing of the north terminal building.
As they approached, Corporal Jackson, and wasn't that name going to take some getting used to, spoke up. "Good morning, ladies. I'm Corporal Jackson, in charge of Dispatcher's security. We're waiting on your Lieutenant Watson to clear out the conference room. May I have the pleasure of your names?"
"Shelley Giles," the taller of the two women announced, her pale hand reaching out toward the Corporal. "I'm Operations Director for Amtrak's Northeast region."
"Ah, so you're the one Dispatcher would have to speak with to see if she could run her own trains. A pleasure to meet you." The Corporal shook the Director's hand.
The woman smiled. "Such an arrangement would have to pass by several other desks, of course, but yes, I'd be a good place to start for such a negotiation. It sounds like this will be a very interesting conversation," she added neutrally but her smile never faded and appeared genuine.
"Oh yes, it will be. The Dispatcher has all
sorts of ideas," Jackson chuckled, "And your companion is?" He asked, changing his view over to the other woman.
"Um," the olive-skinned woman began shyly. She seemed to be trying to hide behind Shelley without leaving the taller woman's side. "My name is, um, Jacqueline Enders. Most people call me Jax. I'm a lawyer contracted by Amtrak to provide counsel for the New England region. You won't hear much from me. I'll be busy taking notes and moving paperwork to facilitate the discussion."
"You'll have to forgive Jax," Shelley said in apology. "She's never been around a parahuman before and she's normally a bit shy at the best of times. We discussed finding someone else to cover for her, but she insisted on coming. I'd ask you not to push her out of her comfort zone. She's an excellent lawyer and a good friend," the director finished by side-bumping her hip against her shorter colleague in a show of affection.
"Well, I will try not to overawe you Miss Enders and Dispatcher will attempt the same," The Corporal promised, "but her powers don't always allow for that. She is a bubbly 13-year-old after all who wants to do her part to clean up this town. I'll urge her to keep the flashy parts to a minimum."
Shelley dropped an eyebrow, apparently a thoughtful tell. She tended to be a cards on the table negotiator and was famously terrible at poker. "I would advise Dispatcher to remember that three of the four of us have varying experiences with parahumans. Shock and awe, or smoke and mirrors, are not likely to impress us. I say this not to insult her, but to help her enter the conversation on the right foot. We have some serious business to attend to, but I speak for more than just this team that we find Dispatcher to be...intriguing."
At this, further discussion was interrupted by the hurried return of Lieutenant Watson. Her uniform remained perfectly in place, but portions of the dark blue uniform showed a hint of dust despite apparent efforts to shake it off. She slowed down as she approached the group and resumed decorum before she arrived to join the loose huddle. Despite her industriousness, her breathing was steady and unlabored.
Corporal Jackson nodded in response to Dr. Giles' thoughts and turned his attention to the newly arrived Watson. " Welcome back. Is everything prepared? I imagine it was quite dusty in the conference room if it hadn't been used in so long."
"That is...an understatement," the uniformed woman acknowledged, looking up at the Corporal. "Let's just say Dr. Giles especially will appreciate the effort. That lovely suit would soak up dust like a magnet."
The woman in green chuckled at this. "Thank you, Lieutenant, for taking one for the team. My fashion sense is forever grateful. Now," she changed tone and turned to Mr Fitzgerald, "I believe we are ready to assemble?"
"Lieutenant, if you will lead the way?" he gestured to the smallest member of the party. "Corporal, I assume you have a way to request the presence of your mistress?" he added as they all began moving along.
"Yes, but to tone down her flashiness, Dispatcher will wait until everyone has seated themselves before appearing," the Corporal replied. "She doesn't want to surprise anyone by showing up in your midst unannounced." As the group moved off, the other projection stayed with the vehicles to keep an eye on them. Miss Militia and Armsmaster followed closely behind the Corporal and the Amtrak officials.
"Oh, we will be fine either way. Well, I can't speak for Jax, but she's honestly braver than she gives herself credit." Shelley smiled as her assistant blushed at the praise. "Dispatcher may appear and interact however works for her and her powers. I just didn't want her to try playing games with us. We've been around the block a few times, isn't that right, John?"
The tall man chuckled and left his response at just a smile.
The Lieutenant led the group to a rectangular conference room reminiscent of any other, assuming that image was government-issue from the 1960's. The space appeared to be a time capsule of sorts with a grey table and grey metal chairs filling the center of the room. Windows spanned one long edge and blackboards covered one of the short ends. There wasn't a white board or 3M easel in sight, much less a projector...unless you counted the ancient transparency projector on a cart along one wall.
"Gawd, this brings back memories," Jack shared his amazement in the silence. "This place should be nominated as a National Historic Site. All of this belongs in a museum."
Armsmaster looked around, "Hmm... no chairs able to hold the weight of this armor, guess I'll have to stand." He did so, taking a position next to a poster of the Boston and Maine Minuteman while Miss Militia took a seat.
"Talk about ancient," she said in some amazement as she sat in the creaky chair. "How many of us were born while this room was in regular use?"
"I remember attending training classes in a room like this when I was a pukey little private," John reminisced. "Damn I feel old now."
Shelley smirked. "You're only as old as you feel. Isn't that what you keep telling me?" she wheedled as she took a seat next to Miss Militia. Jax quietly took the seat on her other side.
"I deserved that," John muttered as he sank into the creaking chair on Jax' other side, ensuring the mousey woman would be covered on both sides by familiar figures.
Lieutenant Watson found a space next to Armsmaster to settle into a textbook parade rest.
Corporal Jackson took a place next to the door and closed it. After waiting for everyone to be comfortable, his eyes went skyward again. For a moment, there was silence and then there was a knocking at the door. He opened it again and proclaimed, "Announcing Dispatcher, Brockton Bay's Mistress of Trains!"
The eyes of Armsmaster and Miss Militia went to the newly opened door. Sure enough, there was the image of Dispatcher they had gotten to meet before, dressed in the same clothes. "Good Morning, everyone!" She said cheerfully, walking to the table and sitting opposite the others. "I hope you all slept well last night? I know I did, with no stupid Merchants blowing things up in the middle of the night." She grumbled that last bit, but it was still audible to everyone.
She looked at the Corporal. "I see you're picking up my flair for the dramatic there, Corporal Jackson. Keep up the good work!" She settled her eyes back on the Amtrak officials. "So, what can Dispatcher do for Amtrak today?" The girl's eyes were shining with excitement as if she had been anticipating this conversation all night, which of course, she had been.
"Well, first off, do you have any questions for us?" Director Shelley Giles spoke for the group. "We couldn't find any other way to make contact with you other than to appear unbidden on your doorstep, as it were. Our apologies for the early hour, but we need to make a determination by 8am in regard to running the Downeaster currently held up in Portland back to Boston in time to make the usual connections. That gives us," she paused to look at her watch, "an hour and three minutes to sort that out."
Dispatcher's words practically rushed out of her mouth. "The first question that comes to mind, Director Giles, is will Sarah Livermore able to make her first day of high school? Mr. Vickery's broadcast yesterday made me feel so guilty that I wanted to get a special train running down to Boston on my own authority, but my mother reminded me that my train wouldn't be in the system and would have issues with the switches nearing the city." She frowned, "And I didn't want there to be a crash or something, so I had to give up that idea."
"Um," Shelley for a moment seemed at a loss for words. She recovered quickly, though. "Tell your mother that she has a sharp mind. Has she worked for the rail system by any chance?"
"Not that I know of." Dispatcher said, "She's a teacher."
"Well, let's start off by agreeing that we will work with you to give you appropriate access to the local rail network, at least to start, and you won't send unscheduled stock down the rails. This is kind of important."
Dispatcher nodded, "Agreed. I wasn't really familiar with switches or signaling yet so my thoughts ran away from me like Roger at speed. If you can help my locomotives get hooked into the scheduling and radio systems I would be grateful. I don't want any accidents to happen on my account."
"I expected you might ask for something like that and I have some ideas. Let's set that aside for the moment, though, so we can focus on the Downeaster run today. In answer to your question about Miss Livermore, if we can successfully assure John here that the train, staff and passengers will be safe this afternoon, then she should be at school tomorrow." The blonde woman leaned over to look at a note on Jax' portfolio.
"We looked her up and her final destination is Boonton, New Jersey. If the Downeaster runs, she'll catch an Acela in Boston to New York City, then a commuter out to Boonton. She'll be home by about 10pm tonight, so she might be a little sleep deprived, but she'll be there. Again, assuming we can run today."
Dispatcher spread her arms wide, "My father reliably informed me that you guys own the station and the whole mainline from Brunswick to Boston. As far as I'm concerned, it's yours to run. If you would like some security for the station grounds, I can provide as many projections as you want, around the clock, free of charge."
"Free for the security, but what maintenance fee would you be asking?" John took over the discussion. "We can only go so high since we are federally funded. Did Skidmark share with you his fee? We're prepared to match it, but we can't go any higher unless we go back to Congress and I
really don't want to have to explain this again to them. Congressional hearings are worse than speaking in front of the whole class and taking the worst test you ever took, all in the same day."
The girl's expression changed to one of genuine confusion, "What do you mean, maintenance fee? It's your facility, so I'd assume that you would repair and maintain the rails, buildings, and other stuff yourselves. Why would I even need to come into it?"
John sat silently, looking down at his hands clasped politely on the table.
Comprehension dawned on Taylor. "Was Skidmark making you pay him to leave your passengers and property alone? That rat! Stunning by .308 Winchester energy bolt should be reserved for normal thugs. I should have had a bazooka at the ready for him! It would have knocked him out for a week at least," she fumed, then considered for a moment and finished, "or put him into a coma." She shook her head, "No, I won't make you pay anything for 'maintenance' as you put it."
John and Shelley glanced at each other and a conversation seemed to pass between them with no words. Either they had telepathy or they had known each other long enough to communicate in the way Taylor had seen between her parents at times. It always struck her as kinda freaky.
"Possession is 9/10ths of the law in a vigilante system, and Brockton Bay years ago fell into anarchy for most intents and purposes. The Merchants for all their terrible failings and excesses did prevent other players from interfering with our operations and permitted us to run a train a week with safety ensured at an exorbitant cost. Are you proposing that you'd provide the same service for…" the older man appeared at a loss for words.
"Access to the rail network?" Shelley took off where John left off. "Education? What else are you asking for? We will need everything clearly enumerated in a contract for our bosses to believe this. You'll need to convince John here that you can hold off the other players. We'll need some assurance from the PRT and the Protectorate that you're the real deal. Hopefully their new director will be more helpful than useless. Director Piggot's predecessor is why we got in this mess with Skidmark. Ironically," she finished with a chuckle that bordered on a giggle and her eyes appeared more than a little wild, "you're asking a lot of us by being reasonable."
Armsmaster spoke up with confidence in his voice. "Dispatcher has the full faith of the Protectorate and the PRT. We have no problem with her assisting in the clean-up of the city, including the railroad, and helping drive off the other gangs and keeping others from trying to fill the void if it comes down to it."
Dispatcher nodded her thanks, her anger simmering down. "Thank you, Armsmaster. I really appreciate that statement, especially from my favorite local hero growing up." The costumed girl focused on Shelley again, while the Tinker hero stared at the floor, his expression softening as the praise got to him. "While I can't sign any contracts without my parents being present, they are watching from on high. I have approval for a general agreement but a contract will have to wait for a time we can safely and discreetly speak in person if that's okay with you guys."
John and Shelley looked at each other again but it was Jax of all people who spoke up. "Oh sweetheart, have your parents joined the angels?" Her eyes had a look of sad camaraderie in them as she looked sympathetically into Taylor's masked eyes.
Dispatcher burst into laughter, surprising the group. She held up a finger to ask for a minute to calm down. When she stifled the laughter to just giggling she said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, but that was unintentionally funny. No, my family is still on this side of the Western Sea, as it were. They haven't crossed over to Valinor. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that they had passed on."
She mimed wiping a tear from her eye. "The way my power works is I have a pocket dimension from where I can control trains and project myself. My parents are literally watching this meeting from on high because that dimension takes the form of an N-scale model layout and they're sitting there watching this meeting on a holographic viewscreen." She muttered in audible levels once again. "Knowing Mom, she's probably laughing up a storm, especially at the Tolkien reference."
The silent look between John and Emily turned into a smile. They broke their gaze as Emily turned to Jax and actually gave her a hug, whispering something in the much younger woman's ear that was inaudible but seemed to brighten the assistant up somewhat.
John turned to glance back at the Corporal for a moment before turning to meet Dispatcher's still humored eyes. "I must admit that this has to be the strangest negotiation session I have ever attended. I've heard stranger stories over several pitchers of beer, but there's always a layer of skepticism frosting such lubricated retellings. I may not look it to some people, but I really am bona-fide Irish and I'm at a loss on how I'll be able to embellish this. And we're not even done yet."
Dispatcher shook her head in amusement. "You've got that right, Mr. Fitzgerald. Although I think we've got the groundwork laid for a gentleman's agreement at least. I provide you with as much physical security you may want or need free of charge and you permit me access to the mainline and the scheduling system. Let's see, what else?" She put her elbow on the table in front of her and propped her chin on her hand and pondered that.
A moment later, her eyes lit up. "Oh, I know! How about I install a dedicated turntable for the passenger platform? That way you can turn your locomotives around and not have to put them in reverse to get a train out of here. I'm sure it annoys your crews, especially since you couldn't use the roundhouse turntable. Unless of course, you run a locomotive on each end of the Downeaster?" Dispatcher asked.
"Oh no," Emily looked up from Jax and responded with a shake of her head. "Currently we run the same train up and back since it's a weekly single run. That said, this may change if you are sincere in not wanting a kickback. Do you realize we'd be running a daily train at the very least with the money we were paying Skidmark? The economics of this run totally change if it operates like a normal route."
Dispatcher shook her head, "I have two working parents. I want for nothing, so no kickbacks for me, not that I would demand any in the first place. I do hope to make some money getting freight going again though, and hopefully a small time passenger service which is why I need your help getting into scheduling. Even if you only run one train a day, that's still a lot of time not being used, at least for everything outside of the Boston metro area."
"You really are something, aren't you?" Shelley returned her attention fully to Dispatcher now that her assistant appeared settled again. Jax no longer would meet the new cape's eyes, even in glancing. She seemed sullen and very focused on her paperwork.
"There's only so much we can do with a Gentleman's Agreement, as you put it. But for the run today, I'm feeling positive vibes." John turned his strong, angular chin in the direction of Armsmaster and the uniformed officer standing comfortably at his side.
"Lieutenant, what say you? I know you're biased, but I'll account for that. Are you willing to put our passengers' lives on the line for trust in this girl?" It looked like this was more than a question. Fitzgerald narrowed his eyes as if inspecting the woman less than half his mass.
"Sir, I believe the benefits outweigh the risks to return the current train back to Boston. I would be even more comfortable if Armsmaster would agree to escort the train through Brockton Bay, including being a presence at the station to reassure guests and provide insurance that Dispatcher will act as she says. Beyond that, I defer to Dr Giles for future runs. I'm sure that will be in the hands of the lawyers."
John nodded, apparently satisfied and looking relaxed. "Shellbelle, from a security perspective you have a green light, especially if we can impose on our armoured friend one last time. Future trips remain on hold for legal review and green light from our bosses. We'd probably best consult with Senator Corbins as well. It's all above our pay grade but I think we should try and encourage Corbins to meet Dispatcher. But that'll have to wait until we've made contact with the parents and get a feel for them."
The Senior Inspector turned again to Dispatcher. "The adult world is complicated. It will likely look like we're going backwards before we can leap forward. I can only ask for your patience and for you to listen to your parents. They seem pretty aware of how things work based on what you've said about them. A teacher especially. Gawd, they deserve combat pay for putting up with students like I was in junior high."
The man's rich baritone filled the room with his laughter. "I'm leaving my personal cell phone number with you and I'm eager to hear from you and them," he shared as he pulled out a small card and passed it across the table. "I assume they, if not you, understand the concept of a 'burner phone'? I'll clue you in that they should use one from a busy public place and not dawdle. Burners only work to obfuscate you if you treat them as being monitored, which they are the moment you call with it."
He paused for a moment. "I'm sharing some of my tricks to build trust with you. Your laughter at our misunderstanding about the celestial state of your parents won us over, although you may owe an apology to Jax. Shelly and I believe you. But we have bosses we'll need to convince, and we'll remain skeptical. Please don't cause us to regret our decision."
The older woman nodded even as she was busily texting. Her colleague was doing the same. "The Downeaster will run today as planned for yesterday. Expect the train to arrive on the north end of Brockton Bay around 4:35 and arrive at the terminal at 4:45. Assuming all goes well, the train should clear to the southwest at 5:20 so we're asking for 45 minutes of focused time from those present."
Dispatcher nodded in understanding, "Of course, Inspector Fitzgerald. I will endeavor not to betray your trust and listen when my parents give advice. Perhaps we can meet again here on Saturday with my parents present? As for security, I can have a dozen projections on patrol around the platform during your operations. Or more or less, depending on your thoughts."
The girl turned a fond smile upon Corporal Jackson. "They have no problem being set on a focused task. They are actually very intelligent and have great initiative. Also yes, my father has a burner, so I'm familiar with them."
Armsmaster made an approving grunt. "I will coordinate with Director Piggot to schedule our presence again on Saturday if you and your people are agreeable, Senior Inspector. In addition, I will be glad to meet the train later today on my motorcycle and escort it into and out of town."
Shelley looked up from her phone to meet Jax' eyes and then over to Dispatcher's. "Saturday will be too late for the run next weekend. I'll endorse the return run today because we have stock in the wrong place and passengers stuck in limbo. We'll need something much firmer to actually initiate another run. Given the number of approvers on this, if we don't have the skeleton of a legal agreement tomorrow evening, we'll have to cancel the run next weekend. Even that is cutting it close, but should give us enough time to get all the signatures."
Dispatcher drummed her fingers on the table and frowned. "I only suggested Saturday because school starts tomorrow and I didn't want to clash with that. Homework shouldn't be too bad for week one though. Let's see, I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon after school with Mr Vickery. Can we squeeze an official meeting in after that?"
Shelley thought for a moment and turned to Jax. Her professional capacity engaged, the timid lawyer dropped her sullen expression and adopted a professionally neutral mask. "We were ready for later today or tomorrow. Tuesday after Mr Vickery's big reveal should be fine. It gives me ample time to write a simple initial agreement and get approval from our bosses. I'm assuming you agree, Dr. Giles, that we'll establish what we need for current operations now and something more robust can follow up as all parties develop trust? Maybe after Senator Corbins has developed an opinion?"
The operations director nodded. "That should work fine, Jax. Dispatcher, are you okay with us initially establishing just what we need to return to current weekend service with a follow up agreement within a time set in the initial agreement? I'd normally ask for 90 days, but I can tell you're excited and I don't want to disappoint unnecessarily. Maybe 30 days if our bosses will agree and your parents don't present any unexpected delays?"
It was a lot of legalese for a 13 year old. At Dispatcher's puzzled expression, Shelley continued explaining. "The follow up agreement will cover access to the Amtrak line. Remember that we here are just talking about the Amtrak corridor. You'll need to work with the owners of any other rail lines for permission to use their track. If you can get such agreement from, say, New Hampshire DoT sooner than the 30 days out, we can include as part of the initial agreement permission to go just far enough on our line to connect with another line as long as it does not run on Saturday or Sunday."
A look around the room showed satisfied nods from all the Amtrak representatives present. Shelley continued, "That should allow you to connect to the New Hampshire rails if they move faster than we do and still give us insurance that we totally control switching and signaling when it matters to us. For the rare leased freight run on our rails, we'll try to schedule those on the weekend as well for the next four weeks. I think we can work it or they can just use the DoT line through Rockingham and Lawrence to Boston."
Shelley smiled as she saw eager excitement again light up Dispatcher's face. "The second agreement, as well as successful completion by you and at least one of your parents of some rather intense one-on-one classwork with some of our experts, would permit you to use the rails on the weekend since you would have an obligation for switching, signaling, and scheduling and would have the education to know and perform your obligation. Don't be too disappointed about the weekend limitation. I expect you'll be so busy in our weekend classes that you won't even care that you can't operate then."
Dispatcher let out some more giggles. "And that's where my power comes in again. Your classes will be completely unnecessary unless you want to give me a test. My power gives me knowledge about any train-related trivia. I just have to ask it a question and it will give me the answer. After that, the knowledge becomes part of my personal encyclopedia and it will be impossible for me to forget. You can give me a test at any point you like though, I'm sure I'll ace it," Dispatcher sounded confident with herself if not smug.
That information raised eyebrows from Miss Militia and a note in Armsmaster's log to add it to the collection the Protectorate and PRT already had on Dispatcher. Corporal Jackson grinned broadly.
"As for the agreement, I'll give you a tentative yes for now, barring any disagreement from my parents, though I suspect they'll agree. They both have good connections in the wider world so getting Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine to be agreeable will probably not be hard," Dispatcher said, giving a warm smile to the others.
Shelley leaned forward and rested her chin on her steepled fingers. "Dispatcher, I'm going to drop the negotiator facade and risk speaking frankly. You speak very confidently, to say the least. You are clearly precocious and so I'll do you the respect of speaking to you as a colleague. It is my sincere hope that such a relationship will be ours in the future. As we get there, you need to be patient as we gather evidence of the abilities you are so sure of. Right this very minute, you are simply too good to be true."
She paused for a moment, holding the young girl's gaze through her mask. "You have been gifted with a power the likes of which we have never seen. Until this weekend, at best capes met us with benevolent ambivalence. At worst, they saw us as a cash source. Skidmark is not unique, although he was by far the most egregious."
Shelley bit her upper lip a moment before continuing. "Except for a handful of freight corridors, especially those between LA and the East Coast, rail in the US has been on life support pretty much ever since the Interstate Freeway system was completed. Little has changed that trajectory, or given reason to expect that trajectory to change...until you."
Shelley leaned back and looked over at John with one of those freaky looks before the latter continued the thought. "Shelley and I have decided that we're willing to put our careers on the line to cultivate what we see as a game changer for passenger rail and possibly even beyond. Even your PR value to bring interest to rail travel is potentially priceless. Having some young, intelligent, and, let's face it, photogenic people revitalize American rail is, simply put, a miracle. Lieutenant, this was your idea. Jump on in."
With no hesitation whatsoever, Lieutenant Watson broke from her pristine parade rest and strode over to Dispatcher's side of the table to take a seat next to the ethereal young cape. Close up, Taylor guessed the woman's age to maybe be somewhere in her 20's, but given her elfin appearance it was literally impossible to tell. Regardless, at this very moment she exuded a youthful enthusiasm reminiscent of a kid at Christmas.
"Dispatcher," the officer's green eyes looked directly into Dispatcher's masked ones as she began with no little passion in her voice. "I'm not going to play games. I want to be on the ground floor of whatever it is that you're doing. I'm happy to explain anything, interview however you want, but bottom line I've always been tiny. I grew up with only two passions; being able to beat the living shit out of anyone who called me a midget, or worse. And my trains. My life was my fists, elbows, knees, and feet, my knives and my layout. Something about miniature trains called out to miniature me, I guess. I'm also a cape fan and will be getting Armsmaster's autograph before this is over even if I have to hold him down and shove his hand over a sheet of paper." Dispatcher was surprised that the woman didn't give any expression that she was joking.
"You must have no idea how envious I am of your power," the woman admitted before Taylor could respond, looking a bit ashamed although Taylor saw no avarice in her eyes as she said it. "I literally cried when I watched video of what you did yesterday morning. But meeting you, I think it belongs with you. It feels right. I'm not bitter, just hopeful. Your powers may tell you everything you need to know, but there's just one thing I think you're still missing. I know the people you'll need to open up doors for you, at least in Amtrak. I've earned a decade of credibility and I'm willing to spend it for you. And I'll be blunt, at your side I'd kill to protect you if something threatened you before you could call on the Corporal. I'd give anything but my honor to be your right hand lieutenant if you'll have me."
Dispatcher blinked back at Watson, appearing confused at first and unable to process what was going on. This state lasted several seconds until she broke eye contact and cocked her head as if listening to someone speak in her ear. For all the others knew, she was. Another few seconds passed and then she nodded to that unseen person and returned a shy smile to the Lieutenant.
"I have to admit that this meeting turned out to be a lot more substantive and heavy than I figured it would be. You've all given me and my parents a lot to think about and we will consider each thing you've said carefully. However," her smile turned warm and fuzzy, "you Lieutenant, have surprised me beyond all expectations. I was not looking to take on any official employees yet, but your passion has broken down that wall like Saruman's orcs did at Helm's Deep. Quite explosively. I can't hire you until I officially revive the Boston and Maine, but I can provisionally offer a position as Chief of Security, if you would like it."
"You won't have to hire her, Dispatcher," John spoke up again. "I meant what I said when I offered to put my career on the line for this. You probably can barely comprehend how much money Skidmark was siphoning off of the Downeaster. For now, at least, we're offering to simply reassign Denise as your liaison. A new role just for this circumstance. She'll report directly to Shelly assuming our bosses agreed, which I know they will. You'll have to figure for yourself how to handle a close aide who serves two masters, but you honestly couldn't ask for a more passionate fixer for your operations. I don't expect you to believe me straight off, but I'm essentially handing my apprentice into your care."
Taylor appeared disappointed for a moment, having heard Denise Watson's passion and had a potential job offer rejected by her boss. She quickly brightened up though, not letting a temporary setback get to her good mood. "Well, I suppose that works. I'll be happy to have your support in any way I can get it. I suppose you'll be needing an office to liase from. I had my officers clean up the 6 offices attached to the back of the roundhouse. You can move into one after Mr. Vickery leaves tomorrow afternoon."
Dispatcher gained an inquisitive look. "What is your number? My Mom wants to know so she or Dad can call you later."
The lieutenant's face beamed and a glance across the table would show two older adults with almost indulgent smiles on their faces. The slight woman wasted no time pulling a card out of her pocket, almost as if it had been placed there by itself just for this occasion.
"That's my Amtrak card, but my personal cell is written on the back. I'll be happy to do whatever they might ask to feel comfortable. As far as an office, that sounds fine. If I get to work more with Corporal Jackson, so much the better. I'll still need to manage security for the Downeaster until Inspector Fitzgerald assigns a replacement, but given how much Brockton Bay represents the security of the line, I should be able to do it from here." She turned her gaze from Dispatcher to ask her current boss the hanging question. "Will that be okay with you, sir?"
Fitzgerald simply nodded, still smiling.
Dispatcher took the card and looked at the back. Noting the cell number, she silently moved her lips, obviously subvocalizing the number but letting the group know she was doing so. After she was done she asked, "Is there anything else to discuss or is that it for this morning? We can continue this conversation tomorrow at 6pm, right here, with my parents. I would ask no cameras or additional eyes not already here this morning. Armsmaster, Miss Militia, would either of you want to be present?"
"Of course we would," Miss Militia immediately accepted the offer. "It would help us learn more about you and your powers. I am not ashamed to admit that we are still curious about you."
"Aren't we all," Inspector Fitzgerald added.
"She's thirteen and will share when she's ready. Don't push her...sir," Lieutenant Watson defended, already providing a protective presence next to the newest cape despite her being under no conceivable threat in her current state.
Fitzgerald chuckled and put his hands up in a 'backing away' gesture. "Already falling into old habits, I see. Good to see you haven't gotten rusty. Serving two masters is an impossible task. You ultimately have to choose, and it's best done right away. I applaud your choice, Watson. You take good care of your girl. We've got a lot riding on her, no pun intended."
Turning his eyes slightly to Dispatcher, the tall man added. "Watson here barely met the height restrictions to be in the Army, even for a woman. She found her home as an MP but was pigeonholed in protective details and undercover work. I meant it when I said I've never met anyone nastier in a knife fight. If you have even an inkling of distrust about her, you'll want to quickly rethink your willingness to accept her offer. I know there's no one more loyal, but I doubt even your Corporal could save you if she were within three feet of your real body and she meant you harm. You're playing with the big boys now, and there's no one I know better to have in your corner. But don't ever forget she can kick the big boys' asses and they'll never know what hit them. To be honest, she's been wasted on her current job. I never understood why she didn't go Secret Service."
"Because I never met a politician I'd want to take a bullet for, and I'm too honorable to pretend. I told you that. Trains, though," she added with a grin and looked slyly back at Dispatcher, "now there's something worth fighting for."
Dispatcher nodded in understanding, "I'll remember all that sir, and try not to take her for granted." She looked back at Watson with a wide grin of her own, "You'll have to be the first person I show the layout to who isn't family or a close friend. Oh, and maybe set up a contest between you and my projections to see who is better."
"It's your call, ma'am. You set the timeline. And I am intrigued to face your projections in a fight. I may have aged a bit, but that young punk with everything to prove is still in here, lurking," she said with a finger tapping her temple. Denise turned her entire 4 foot 10 inch body to face Dispatcher. She then bowed formally in her chair, reminding Taylor of an anime. "Thank you for your trust. I swear on my honor I will never cause you to regret it."
Dispatcher blushed a little and looked away slightly. She was somewhat embarrassed by Denise's display. "No need to be so formal, but you're welcome." She looked up again. "We can do all that tomorrow evening if that's fine with you."
"I think we are done here for now," Inspector Fitzgerald announced as he rose from his chair. Shelley and Jax followed suit. "The three of us need to prepare for tomorrow and Lieutenant Watson needs to get to Portland and meet her train. She'll be back this afternoon in the consist to work with the escort."
Dispatcher also stood and returned to her chipper self, "Alright, sounds like a plan! I will see you all tomorrow. Denise, have a safe journey. The railroad police will be waiting for the train as agreed. If there is nothing else, I will be on my way."
Armsmaster moved forward from his standing position and verbally intercepted Dispatcher, "Before you go, I have a gift for you. I have been tinkering on something for you for the past few days. I started on it before I even met you. My power practically compelled me to build this item." His armored hand moved to a belt pouch but he stopped when Dispatcher replied.
The girl's face was glowing in surprise and anticipation, "A gift, for me? But I barely know you, and I haven't done anything to put me in your debt. What's the occasion?"
"I am not sure. I did say I felt compelled but it was also almost like I was commissioned to do it. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"
Dispatcher shook her head, "No, I don't, I'm sorry. As for the item, whatever it is, can you hold onto it till tomorrow? I can't take anything physical with me in this form." She appeared a little disappointed at her own words but still smiled happily.
Armsmaster nodded, "That is amenable. I look forward to the presentation."
"Very well then!" Dispatcher looked around the room once more, looking for any other interjections. Seeing none, the cape girl gave a friendly nod to everyone, then poofed out of existence. Corporal Jackson grinned, opened the door to the conference room and began whistling a certain tune as he walked away, leaving the startled Amtrak employees behind.
I've been working on the railroad,
All the live long day,
I've been working on the railroad,
Just to pass the time away,
Can't you hear the whistle blowing,
Rise up so early in the morn,
Can't you hear the whistle blowing,
Dinah, blow your horn.
So the questions are Amtrak first, or Not-squealer chapter next? And will Armsmaster get a hug when his gift train goes full size?
