Revenant was not back before midday. She did not return by midnight. Sabra thought about calling her, but figured there was no point. She was with her father, and so would not answer, or the IESA had yanked her chain, and so she could not answer. That, and Sabra didn’t want to appear clingy.

  She slept, she woke. The news mentioned that there had been “an incident” at a chalet, with one person dead and a “startling” amount of property damage. It was like the talking heads cared more about the one person who had died in his home, and not the dozens who had died outside of theirs. And then, guilt—because Sabra couldn’t recall how many people had even died in the bombing anymore. It’d been, what, a week?

  There wasn’t much else to do, so, Sabra alternated between training and working on her suit. She’d met Alexander, but Lykos was like a wraith that haunted the basement, and was never there when she was. Perhaps it was luck that, this morning, he was down there, hunched over a workbench. His vertebrae poked against his singlet.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He looked up, nodded to her, then returned to his work. She hoped he wasn’t offended that she’d asked to look over her suit herself. Given the modifications she’d made, she figured a personal touch was for the best.

  Working with her hands just made sense. When she’d dragged her first hardsuit out of Asclepion’s boneyard district, the process of getting it working again—replacing parts, jury-rigging solutions—had consumed her. She’d been manic—the telltale sign of empowered savantry or technopathy. It was, as Blueshift had told her, the first expression of her prescience. Revenant liked to roll her eyes and call it part of her tactility obsession.

  (And, of course, she was correct. Sabra couldn’t banish the thought of working on Revenant’s mechanisms, dislodging some shrapnel or replacing a part, kissing her where no one else ever had...)

  She could do it then because she was doing it now, and maybe in the future. According to Blueshift, she could do it then because she was doing it now, or perhaps even further in the future. According to Blueshift, cause and effect were linked in both directions—and could even be disconnected entirely. He called that paracausality, and said that was key to her goal of killing the Seven.

  He still kicked her butt every time they sparred, though. Still holding back, he’d said, with such quiet disdain. She tried to focus on that, let her breathing even out. She worked, and her mind slipped into that heady state of near-sleep, balancing on that liminal edge. She was on it, in it, and outside of it. Her hands worked like she was dreaming, listening to a pattern at the edge of her hearing, tracing it with her fingertips. It was the exuberance of victory in the ring, bloodied and unbowed, and the shadow of her nightmares.

  Some part of her recoiled, drew back, pulled its punches—Sabra held her hands to the fire, plunged her face under the water like someone was holding her there. Each breath she took was like she thought the ocean would drive itself into her lungs. Her hands worked, and she was one piece of the grand puzzle, a single jigsaw piece, an ant that shouted I at the heart of the world, within the indescribable gap between stars and atoms. It was the same rift, the only difference was one of scale, and Lykos looks up and sees you, bleeding and entranced and says, “Hey Sabra...”

  “Are you okay?”

  Sabra blinked, and she was.

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  He swiped at his nose and she, realizing, matched him. The blood she found on her thumb was so much more dull than it ever was in her dreams. “Ah, Christ and Allah, sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I used to get them, too.”

  She glanced at him, frowning. Surely...

  “What do you mean?”

  “Back when I was starting out. Your IESA registration says you’re a technopath, Defiant.”

  An easy lie, but one Blueshift had insured. “Yeah. But starting out?”

  “Well, yeah. But I’m barely technopathic. Not enough of a talent to get picked up by any group that matters, but also never got hit with the integration psychosis—so, good with the bad, y’know?”

  “How barely are we talking?”

  “Give me a device and I can tell you what’s wrong with it and where. But even then, I really have to concentrate. Like trying to hear something at the edge—”

  “Of your hearing, right?” Sabra asked. She knew it, too. But sometimes it didn’t sound like it was coming from beyond the horizon, but somewhere deep within. Within her marrow, her blood, her adrenaline...

  “Pretty much,” Lykos said. “Now, how about you?”

  “How about me?” Sabra shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s mild. It’s like I trance out. Jury-rigged myself a suit of power armor back home. I’ve never had the urge to cut my limbs off or whatever, though.”

  “Explains you and her, seems like.”

  “Rev?”

  “Who else?” Lykos replied. “Just makes sense, from where I’m looking.”

  “How long have you known her?” Sabra asked.

  “About a year. Alexander’s known her longer.”

  “And you know she’s a robot.”

  “Well, yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. “She doesn’t exactly hide it.”

  Sabra nodded. She’d understood pretty quickly that Revenant didn’t care about being seen as a machine, but being seen as subhuman. Robot means servitude, she had said, but when Sabra had asked what was better to use, she’d just told her to just stick with robot. Somehow, it was less of an insult than android or, Christ and Allah, gynoid.

  There’d been something she’d wanted to say in that conversation. A buried thought, barely touched. That her girlfriend only feigned being a robot, an appliance, a thing for one simple reason.

  You couldn’t oppress a machine.

  Later, Alexander called them both up to the living room for a ‘briefing.’ There, to Sabra’s surprise, was Revenant, and she was wearing the crisp blue uniform of the IESA, beret and all, with not a single crease out of place. With her, at her shoulder, was a man in a matching uniform—not her father, but perhaps a brother.

  Then Sabra looked for a moment longer, and the resemblance passed. Still, his square jaw looked tough enough that not even her uppercut would crack it. The man nodded to her, but said nothing, and no one asked about him, so, Sabra didn’t either. She’d never met one of Revenant’s handlers before. Sabra was struck by the thought of her hands around his neck. No vertigo, no prescience—just simmering wrath and cold, terrifying compassion.

  Revenant said, “Kasembe, Marshall. I’ll keep this as brief as possible. First, I’d like to apologize for my delay in returning. Secondly, after discussing recent events with my father, I have a message to deliver from him concerning our investigation.”

  Revenant raised her right hand. The panels in her palm shifted, and projected an image of a man in miniature. The resolution was sharp enough that Sabra could make out the wrinkled lines in his slacks, and the almost fashionably thin dusting of facial hair along his chin and beneath his nose.

  The resemblance was uncanny. Revenant’s father. Of all things, it struck Sabra most that he wore glasses. People didn’t wear glasses anymore. He was old-fashioned, or it was for the aesthetics.

  The hologram looked right at her, up at her.

  “Sabra, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard that you were tall, but this is something else.”

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  He paused, smiled. Revenant rolled her eyes. “His sense of humor leaves much to be desired.”

  The hologram smiled. “Now that we’ve had enough time for my daughter to admonish me for my sense of humor, let’s move on. I wish I could say this was a social call—it isn’t.” His tone sharpened. Sabra glanced to the IESA official, struck by the thought that he wasn’t there for Revenant, but for her.

  The hologram paused.

  “Okay,” Sabra said. “How does he know?”

  “Know what?” Revenant asked.

  “To pause for effect like this. Like, it’s a recording, isn’t it?”

  “It is. His words, his delivery. But I am making some minor adjustments on the fly.”

  Her father chuckled. “First things first. Sabra, I wish we’d met under better circumstances, but I hope you’ll settle for being deputized into this investigation. My daughter has operational command, and I’ll assume she has already filled you in. Given what I’m about to tell you, I thought it was best that the three of you heard it from myself in person, so to speak. I’ve already informed her and Captain Bell.” The man in the IESA uniform nodded but remained silent.

  “The Cornavin bombing was a horrific act,” her father continued. “And I think I know who was behind it. Alex, Lykos—I apologize for sending you on what amounted to a wild goose chase for the past week. I needed time to run my own investigation, and part of me hoped I was wrong.”

  The hologram removed his glasses, polished them, put them back on.

  “Something bothered me about the attack,” he said. “While I understand Sian’s concern, I do not believe I was the target. An explosion in downtown Geneva puts the casualties within reach of the best medical facilities in the world. Not to be too much of a pragmatist, but if this was an assassination, then the person had no way of confirming their success. But there had to be a target.

  “In this case, I think the target was Geneva itself.”

  Who could possibly be so brazen? Sabra rubbed her knuckles, thinking it over. Revenant had cleared Jack and besides, he surely wasn’t stupid enough to blow himself up, nor the kind of person who could talk someone into blowing themselves up. But Julian’s tips had led put her in just the spot to see Jack blow Kortanaer away.

  Yes, she really had to pay him a visit.

  Revenant raised her other hand and projected another image. Another masculine figure but clad in armor like an ancient knight. Blue armor, trimmed in gold. Sabra could pick out the intricate scale motif etched into the plates. He stood in the powerful stance of a Golden Age hero, cape and all, but Sabra had no idea who he was.

  “Dragon,” Alexander murmured.

  “This is Caspian Lacroix,” Revenant’s father said. “Or, yes, as he used to be known, Dragon. One of Europe’s more notable superheroes. A paragon of the Golden Age. A Swiss icon. And a fiercely outspoken critic of the IESA.”

  “That’s putting it lightly,” Alexander said. “In one of his last public appearances, he swore he’d destroy it by any means necessary.”

  “Lacroix was a political idealist. He vanished in 2048. The IESA, I think, was happy to have him gone.” He let out a breath. “Lacroix... Caspian was my friend. I never believed he was dead. I’ve kept an eye on his accounts and his assets. For over a decade, they’ve sat untouched. Until about five months ago.

  “It’s nothing I can prove. It’s entirely possible that someone else has gained control of his assets. To be honest, I don’t want to believe that Caspian killed innocent people. But I remember our last conversation, and his anger, and understand that the man I knew may not be the man he has become. The ascension of the IESA was an affront to his ideals. Whether he’s waging an earnest campaign of terrorism, or priming a situation for his return as a savior, I can’t say. But I fear he is involved, and that he will strike again, and that he will keep striking until he’s brought down the IESA or Geneva or both.”

  The image of Revenant’s father glanced over at the image of Dragon, armored and heroic, and sighed.

  “We have to find him before that happens,” he said, “and we have to stop him. The rest of this briefing, I leave to Captain Bell. Captain.” The hologram nodded to Bell, stepped back, and vanished.

  Captain Bell gave them all an easy smile. “We’ll make this quick. I’m Captain Kastor Bell, Special Operations Command. I’ll be brief: the people upstairs agree with Doctor Yang’s assessment. So much so that they don’t want to risk anyone knowing that they’re looking into it.” His delivery was wryly pleasant, like an older brother who hated chores as much as you did, but knew the price of not doing them.

  “Special Operations Command?” Alexander asked. “Never heard of it.”

  “And by the end of this operation, if it all goes well, you’ll wish you never had,” Bell replied, smiling again. “Sorry, just a bit of occupational humor. Let me recite from the manual here: the role of the SOC is to provide the IESA with accurate and comprehensive information regarding the activities, objectives and capabilities of parties hostile to the security of the Functioning World. It might not be glamorous, but some of us have to make sure the superheroes don’t get their capes stuck in the door. SOLAR might be the scalpel, but we’re the surgeons.”

  “And this is the first we’re hearing of it?”

  “It’s one thing to militarize capes,” Lykos said, “But another if people realize it’s already been done.”

  Sabra shook her head. She knew. “Because surgeons get their hands dirty.”

  Bell turned his eyes on her. She had six inches on him, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. She stared him down. He held her gaze. His eyes were intensely blue.

  “Perceptive, Defiant,” he said. “But think of me as an advisor and a liaison between the four of you and the IESA itself. It’ll ensure that we don’t step on too many toes. For example, Taskforce MARBLE has agreed to release Revenant here from most of her duties until this matter is resolved or the strategic situation shifts.”

  A little bit of slack in her chain, Sabra thought. Or a handler that kept her on a longer leash. She tried to read something in Revenant’s expression, but it was as placid as ever.

  “I’ve worked with most of the Taskforces, but mostly with MARBLE and HYPERION,” Bell continued. “My work with the former is where Revenant and I met, actually. Close air support for SOC was one of her first roles within the IESA.”

  Revenant smiled politely. To Sabra, she might as well have vomited.

  “This gives us a significant asset in both firepower and intelligence analysis. That said, and I want to stress this, if Dragon is here in Geneva, we are not to force an engagement. We’re recon. More than that, win or lose, the collateral damage is the sort of thing that would probably get us all brought up on charges.”

  “He’s that strong?” Sabra asked.

  “Potentially,” Bell said. “He was never Dynamis tested, but a guesstimate places him as a D10 at minimum.” Sabra had never been tested either, but she knew the scale. A superhero worthy of the title fell somewhere between D6 and D8. Asclepion’s reigning demigod, Sentinel, had been a D10—and it’d taken a whole SOLAR team to bring him down. The only person she knew of who rated higher than that was Blueshift.

  And, presumably, the Seven.

  “I’ll run you through the information I’ve been given,” Bell said. “Doctor Yang is correct concerning the money moving out of accounts linked to Lacroix. Taskforce CORMORANT traced the payments to a number of shell accounts and front companies. They are linked to a number of security consulting firms including Watchtower Coalition and Firmament. Some appear to be linked to personal accounts across the Americas. If Dragon is seeking assistance, he’s cast a wide net.”

  Perhaps including her mystery woman, Sabra thought, that Avalanche?

  “I’ve heard a bunch of people like that have been spotted in Geneva,” Sabra said.

  “And not all of them came through proper channels,” Bell replied. “It’s part of the reason why Command is moving quietly.”

  “Do you think he’s already here?”

  “SOLARIA analysis renders that query inconclusive, which is not reassuring. We’re in the realm of hunches and educated guesses, boys and girls. But there’s one more reason why Command is nervous.”

  The projected image above Revenant’s hand changed into a circular, sinuous sapphire-blue symbol that brought to mind something between a spiraling raindrop and a serpent trying to catch its own tail. Sabra didn’t know the meaning, but she had a reasonable idea.

  “This is Dragon’s symbol,” Bell said. “It’s also the symbol of the Dragonite movement. Like the good Doctor said, Dragon was very popular, and after his disappearance, many people have continued serving his ideals. Broadly speaking, they’re a collection of humanists who do everything from volunteer work to feeding the homeless. Politically, many of them oppose the IESA.”

  “A fifth column,” Alexander said. “Not sure I buy it, but I can see why your superiors took notice.”

  “A what?” Sabra asked.

  “A group designed to work against another organization from within. Only thing is, that’d assume some incredible planning from a man who vanished over a decade ago.”

  “Command is considering all possibilities at this point,” Bell said. “Such as, it might not be the whole of the organization. It’s possible that, if Dragon is in contact with them, then he is only in contact with a select few. You only need to influence a few nodes to control a network.”

  “Okay, but people like the Dragonites,” Lykos said. “If you’re going after them...”

  “We’re not. But it stresses the need for this to be handled quietly. If a Golden Age paragon has spent half a year recruiting allies from across the world and perhaps a decade cultivating a network of cells within Switzerland itself, then we need to be damn sure where we step.”

  Sabra stared at Dragon’s symbol, arms crossed. Something didn’t add up.

  “If his people help the homeless,” she began, “and if he’s such an idealist or whatever, why would he be using them as living bombs?”

  “Drives unrest,” Bell pointed out. “Turns people against an underclass who can’t fight back. Cultivates an atmosphere of paranoia. Escalates responses from law enforcement agencies. The kind of results you might want if you’re looking to erode people’s support in the status quo.” He spoke like he’d done it before.

  Alexander said, “That, and begging’s a criminal offense. Switzerland took in a lot of refugees during the Collapse, and I wouldn’t say it was willingly. Even during the Golden Age, they were shipping the homeless out on buses. I’d say no one cares, and the people who do care are likely to care in the wrong way.”

  “How is it possible to not care?” Sabra asked. Everyone was as human as everyone else. Any violent death diminished the whole of humanity. She was because they were. How could people not see that? But just like that, she thought of the staff at the restaurant, at how they’d directed their language at her like a bludgeon.

  “I think that’s all we need to discuss for now,” Bell said. “I’ll pull down some intel from Command, and we’ll get some options on the table. It’s nice meeting you all.” He left the living room without another word, Revenant falling into step behind him. Sabra watched them go, as did Lykos.

  “I think we just got press-ganged,” he said.

  But Sabra frowned at something there, in his eyes, as he watched Revenant leave.

  She didn’t like the way he looked at her.