Chapter Text
The Beast of Possibility
In her dream, Taylor was looking at a tapestry. A noblewoman is in the center, her attendant to her left. A unicorn to the attendant's left, a lion to the noble woman's right. A pavilion behind her, the valence over the entrance reading "À mon seul désir " - "My own desire".
Her eyes fell on the unicorn, a fantastic beast that symbolized many things. That there was a chance, a possibility, a hope that things could change. Something that could bring judgment to the world. Something to help purify the world, purge it of its wrongs.
In her dream, Taylor's eyes fluttered, then closed. Her last vision was on the unicorn.
= = = = = = = = = =
Something beeped.
There was nothing in her locker that could beep. She opened her eyes, curious what could be making the beeping sound. She'd closed them hours ago, waiting for the end to come. The trio had locked her in her locker, and despite her every effort to attract attention, no one had helped. She had muttered a last prayer to whatever power would listen, made her peace with the world, and closed her eyes to die.
Now she was sitting in a comfortable seat of some kind, and a green light was blinking in sync with the beeping. "Hello?" she said to the darkness, hoping someone would hear her.
Text scrawled across the screen the green light blinked above. The text began scrolling down the screen, and a wrap around display began to activate.
The central screen cleared, and a video played. An ethereal avatar looked out from the screen, her gaze seeming to lock on to Taylor. "Hello," it said, a slight smile on her face.
"Hello," Taylor answered. "Who are you, and where am I?"
"I really don't have a name," the avatar told her. "I just have my unit designation, RX-1. As to where you are, how is your understanding of higher order dimensional mathematics?"
"The highest math class I've had was high school advanced algebra," Taylor muttered.
"The simplest, and somewhat lacking, explanation is that you are someplace between. Or rather, I am someplace between, and you are sitting in my cockpit."
"So you're some kind of vehicle, RX-1?" Taylor asked.
"You might say that. However, until we get your credentials logged into my system, I'm not moving anywhere."
Taylor was already having problems calling the avatar by its given designation. "May I call you Roxi?"
"Certainly. I would assume you would like to be called something other than 'Pilot'. Please state your name and age so I can build your credentials."
"Taylor Anne Hebert, age fifteen," Taylor said clearly.
"Thank you, Taylor," Roxi said, her Avatar sketching a slight bow. "System Initialization start… Now." And with that, more displays came on line. "All systems check, powering up. We will be breaking into realspace in ten seconds… five seconds… realspace breakout commencing."
Outside the suit, there was the sound of metal tearing, rocks being broken. "We appear to have materialized inside a structure," Roxi noted dryly. "Taylor, where were you last located?"
"I was locked in my locker at school by three girls this morning." Taylor mumbled.
"Hmm, local time is currently 0200 hours. Even by most outliers of social norms, locking someone in a small cell who isn't guilty of a criminal act is a violation of several laws," Roxi said, a disapproving look on her avatar's face. "However, I think we'd best determine our course of action." With that, the view screen came to life.
It showed the rather lackluster nighttime vista of Brockton Bay. As Taylor moved her head around to look, she could hear the whisper quiet of the machine doing something, and the view would follow her head movements. She looked down, and realized that whatever Roxi was, she was kneeling in the wreckage of the main building of Winslow High School.
"Local law enforcement and something called the PRT and Protectorate will be onsite in five minutes, Taylor. What do you want to do?"
"We need to get out of here," Taylor blurted. "Without attracting too much more attention."
"A little late for that," Roxi noted. "and I really don't do stealthy well. If you could please fasten your pilot's harness, I'll take care of getting us out of here."
Taylor fumbled with the belts, her arms and hands unexpectedly clumsy, before getting them fastened. "I'm strapped in, Roxi."
"OK, we're standing up now." Taylor felt herself pressed gently into the chair as Roxi stood up. The view on the screen became one from a higher viewpoint. "Debris shed, deploying radiators, engine sequence start." Taylor could feel something come to life in the vehicle? Robot? Whatever Roxi was. "Do we have a destination in mind?"
"If I were to tell you one of the larger abandoned buildings in the Docks, you'd have no clue what I'm talking about, right?"
"Accessing local data infrastructure… The Docks referring to a largely derelict commercial and industrial area of the city, roughly four miles from here. There are six buildings that are large enough to hide myself in," Roxi noted. "Two are reported as structurally sound."
"Pick the one in better condition," Taylor said as she watched as various emergency services converged on the ruins of Winslow High School. "And we're trying to hide, so not too much damage, please."
"Affirmative," Roxi replied.
There was a brief whine as the turbopumps spooled up, and then it took a few seconds for enough power to build up before Roxi left her current position with some alacrity.
= = = = = = = = = =
"Well, that's not something you see every day," remarked Assault from where he sat in the PRT van.
"Indeed," came back Armsmaster's voice over the radio. "Estimate height to be eighteen meters, humanoid layout." They watched as the titanic robot, shimmering white, stood up and looked around. "That is impressive."
"It's fucking huge," Assault added. "Hey, it's deploying wings." Indeed, the robot was spreading silvered wings, a hexagonal pattern covering the individual feathers of each wing.
"Turbines onboard are beginning to spool up… Take cover, it's going to launch!" With that Armsmaster executed a sharp turn, putting an abandoned building between him and the exhaust blast from the engines. The two PRT vans did likewise.
They watched as the exhaust blast built up strength, the heat from the thrusters starting to melt stone and steel, before it took off into the air. Soon it was out of sight, just a bright spot in the sky which eventually blinked out.
"Where did it go?"
"Armsmaster, Rig: We lost the bogie roughly 10 seconds after launch."
Assault broke in on the channel. "Well, that sucks. How could you lose something that's exhausting gasses hot enough to melt steel?"
"Unknown," replied Armsmaster. "An estimate of the trajectory would have it hitting somewhere out on Cape Cod, assuming a purely ballistic flight."
"She's not going to be happy we lost a sixty foot tall robot," Assault chided his boss.
"I'm well aware of that," Armsmaster growled. "Let's get the site cordoned off, and let emergency services get things under control."
= = = = = = = = = =
Roxi had a problem. Soon after launch, Taylor had started convulsing, eventually hemorrhaging bright red blood out of her nose. "Emergency medical protocols activated," she said in a machine-like voice, and the autoinjectors in the seat delivered their loads of repair nanites.
Massive infections, gangrenous tissues, cerebral hemorrhaging, Roxi's systems reported. She prioritized the brain injury first, followed by the gangrenous tissues. She watched as the bleeding was stopped in a couple of seconds, and the arteries were sealed. She made sure Taylor's vitals remained stable, and directed the nanites. The bacteria didn't last long, being torn apart for raw materials to help with repairs. The gangrenous parts of her hands and legs – how had she managed to get the harness buckled? – were more problematic. There wasn't enough uncontaminated biomass left to rebuild all of them.
The pilot would survive and eventually recover. It was what happened in the next few hours that would determine how much of her would be human, and how much machine.
Roxi managed to land the stealthed suit as quietly as something weighing fifty metric tons could – which meant that anyone within a block of her landing point heard and felt it – and examined the door to the building. Glad that the hand actuators were the best available when she'd been built, she used their superior dexterity to pull the lock off the doors, making a fairly loud snap as the rusted metal gave way.
Very carefully, slowly turning up the power, the door was slid to the side, gaining access to the building. A quick LIDAR scan showed adequate space, and a couple of taps with a foot actuator gave her enough readings to show the floor would hold the suit's weight. Stooping a bit to get through the door, she made her way into the building and pulled the door closed.
Her first priority would be to secure medical care for Taylor. Her emergency measures would save her life, but she would require more permanent treatment than she could give. Her second priority would be to gather consumables for her systems. There were ninety days of lithium deuteride in her powerplant's tanks, and enough reaction mass for thirty days cruise in zero-g, or roughly four hours flight in the atmosphere.
Both would require information. She was equipped with a very good ELINT suite, and there was a great number of nodes transmitting openly. While the nanites in her pilot worked on both repairing the life threatening damage and keeping her asleep, she accessed the local network infrastructure and began weighing her options.
= = = = = = = = = =
"Why are we out here?" The person who asked was a fairly large man. He was dressed appropriately for the weather, and carried a rather large flashlight, which panned around.
"Because something overflew the office, and the security system registered an impact," his somewhat smaller companion replied. He, too, had a flashlight, plus his custom built hand held scanning tool. "Something did land here," he said as he moved into an area where the snow had melted away. "But whaaaAAAAH!"
He never finished the thought as he stepped off into a rather large footprint. The unexpected (if short) drop caused him to lose his balance and topple over.
His companion began laughing at his misfortune before he offered him assistance in getting out of the footprint. "OK, I believe you! Something did land here. In fact, it looked like it walked over to the warehouse, pulled the old lock off the door, and went inside." The flashlight highlighted each point of the discussion.
"So there's something fairly big sitting in our warehouse," the smaller man said.
"Yes, we'd purchased it through a cut out," the larger man said, "but we'd not done any work except replace the man door and bring some equipment in through the small overhead door, so there isn't anything valuable that’s easy to steal." He pulled a key ring out of his pocket. "Shall we see who engaged in breaking and entering on our property?"
"OK, yes. While I don't think anything we have on hand will do anything to something that large, it can't hurt to see if they're friendly, or in need of something."
= = = = = = = = = =
Taylor dreamt. She was floating down a shaded creek on an inflatable raft, a cool breeze wafting over her on a lazy summer afternoon. This was nice. The sound of the water, the cool breeze, and the sounds of nature surrounding her.
She leaned back and sighed, and watched as a cloud of butterflies fluttered near her. Butterflies she'd never seen before. And there was someone floating next to her, on a raft.
"How are you feeling, Taylor?"
"Oh, hi Roxi. Considering what's been happening, I'm actually feeling pretty good." She looked over at the other girl. "What's wrong?"
"Just after we left the alleged school" – and at that description Taylor chuckled – "you started having a seizure and hemorrhaging. I also took note of the extent of your injuries from the locker, and wondered how you got the pilot's harness on."
"So, am I dead?"
"No, you're alive. My onboard emergency medical systems have stabilized your injuries, and I'm looking into securing medical assistance."
"So why am I dreaming that I'm floating down a stream with you instead of being drugged insensate on painkillers?"
"Because the dangers of using painkillers to do that to you far outweighs the benefits," Roxi explained. "The various side effects would have killed you. I'm using electronic sedation to keep you still and talk with you."
"Oh." Taylor was silent, her hand trailing in the cool water. "I wish I could talk to my dad one last time. Tell him I'm sorry."
"Taylor, listen to me," Roxi said in a reassuring voice. "You are not going to die. Your injuries have been taken care of, though I did have to amputate both your legs below the knees, and both your hands. Whatever was in your locker was nasty."
"Used tampons, sanitary napkins, and bugs," Taylor interrupted.
"Whoever contributed some of that should see a doctor," Roxi stated. “You had several serious infections that were dealt with – beyond the sepsis and gangrene – and a brain injury. The damage has been fixed, and I am working on restoring your right hand, since I have enough biomass available to do that. If you're not right handed, tell me now.
"You are also suffering from borderline malnutrition, and are underweight. If you are to heal, you'll need to eat better."
"Yeah, things have been kind of tough for Dad and I after Mom died," Taylor admitted. "Been left to see to my own needs, while Dad is sometimes drunk and suffering from depression. He's starting to get a little better."
Well, Roxi thought, I guess I chose well. "Our first priority is to get you medical care. The second priority is to secure some of the consumables I need to function. And lastly, determine who the two men are who are approaching this building." With that, a window opened mid-air, showing a pair of men unlocking the man door to the warehouse they'd taken shelter in. A short audio clip played.
"That's Smith and Cooper," Taylor said. "They've done consulting work around town. The taller one is Darrel Smith, and the shorter is Daryl Cooper."
"Well, they're about to enter the building."
= = = = = = = = = =
Smith opened the door, shining the flashlight inside. It flashed off of something impossibly white in the center of the building. "Dude, have you been tinkering again without telling me?"
Cooper went over to the breaker panel and switched on the lights.
Standing in the warehouse was a metallic titan, the top of its head not too far below the ceiling. It was backed against the old overhead crane. The plates that made up its outer skin were pearlescent white save for a few smudges of black. The plates were angular, yet sufficiently jointed to provide, the pair assumed, a very wide range of motion. A pair of silvery panels could be seen behind the legs of the titan. The openings they could see on either side of the head were part of the shrouds that usually concealed weapons, similar to the ones used on fighter aircraft
"Are we seeing what I think we're seeing?" Smith asked, disbelieving what his eyes were showing him.
"I think so," Cooper replied, more in awe than disbelief. "It's a mobile suit."
"From that Aleph import?" Smith retorted. He was watching it very carefully.
"The newest one? Possibly." He brought out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment. "It almost matches the lead from the new series, but not quite." He didn't see Smith raise his hand to point at it.
"Dude, it just moved!"
"Couldn't have. It's not…" With that, there was a sound that can only be described as the suit's sensors going active, "Oh shit." He had seen the head turn and lower to look at both of them. Then his phone signaled the arrival of a new message. "Assistance needed, please wait."
A small hatch on the head opened, and something made its way down. It was roughly a sphere, less than half a meter in diameter.
"Oh, this is rich," Cooper said. "It's a Haro!"
The small drone came to a stop about ten feet away, and powered up a projector. "Good morning, gentlemen. I am the AGI aboard the RX-1. I require some assistance, as my pilot is in need of medical attention."
Roxi's avatar was of a slim, young woman of athletic build. She wore a rather generic white sundress, which went well with her pale skin. The avatar's short hair, cut just above the shoulders, was pink with stripes of pastel blue and purple running through it. Violet eyes watched the pair of young men.
There was a flicker, and a video window showed a picture of Taylor in the cockpit, her left wrist and both knees capped where the remainder of the extremity should be.
"Dude, that's Taylor! Danny's gonna be pissed when he finds out about this," Smith said in a hoarse whisper.
"He'll be pissed at us if we don't help," Cooper replied. "You go get the crash kit, and I'll fire up the man lift." He began flipping more breakers, bringing all the lights on full.
Smith nodded. He'd gotten a lot of practice with his skills as an EMT since his partner had some rather explosive failures in his workshop. Nothing of the paying work, but very few of his experiments failed safely.
Cooper grabbed the stretcher from the basic aid station near where the manlift was parked, disconnected the latter from the charger, and began to make his way over to the mobile suit. Up on the torso, he could see armored hatches opening up. "I hope this thing will reach," he said to no one in particular.
"It should, Mr. Cooper," Roxi said via the Haro drone. "If not, I can assist."
"Thank you," Cooper answered as his partner was back with the crash kit. With a leap worthy of any anime hero, he vaulted onto the man lift as his partner began to raise the platform. "Dare I ask how a mobile suit has wound up here, in our warehouse?"
"This was one of two locations in the area that met my pilot's criteria for a place to hide."
"But where did you appear?" Smith asked. "There is a hornet's nest of activity near one of the high schools."
"When I materialized in realspace, I noticed some resistance to my entry. Only afterward did I realize that I materialized where my pilot was, locked in her locker."
"From what's being broadcast by the PRT, it also looks like the school was half melted,“ Darrel commented.
"Darrel, mobile suits are fusion powered."
"That is correct, Mr. Smith," Roxi answered.
"So that means fusion thrusters?" Darrel asked.
"I mount six high efficiency plasma recombustion thrusters, along with sixty thermal expansion vernier thrusters for maneuverability," Roxi answered.
"OK, so while you're not venting nuclear plasma into the atmosphere, it's still hot enough to melt steel and stone at close range." Daryl said in a deadpan manner.
"Oops." Somehow, the Haro drone managed to look sheepish.
The man lift reached the cockpit level, with a few feet of extension left. The arms of the suit moved quietly and slowly, and soon the hand actuators were keeping the lift from swaying too much.
"Yep, it's Taylor," Darrel said, doing quick checks of her vitals. "She's stable, her heartbeat is regular, but her pulse is a bit weak. Pupils are unresponsive, blood pressure one ten over sixty. Respiration is regular."
"I have her under electronic sedation," Roxi's voice said, coming from a cockpit speaker. "Part of my emergency treatment included repairing a cerebral hemorrhage."
"Yeah, I can see the arterial blood on her clothes and a bit around her nose," Darrel said. "Looks like you cleaned most of it from her orifices. OK, we're gonna transfer her over to the stretcher, and then onto the lift. Good thing there's a lot of space in the cockpit. Come on, straw man!"
"Whatever," Daryl grumped. "I do have muscles, you know. Mine aren't all bulgy like yours." Despite the byplay, they managed to get Taylor onto the stretcher and onto the lift. They secured the stretcher on the deck of the lift before going back down.
As they reached floor level, the arms hung down in their resting position. "You're not going to fall over, are you?" Daryl asked Roxi.
"I should be able to remain standing unassisted for another eighty days," she stated. "I'm hoping to secure some consumables to remain operational."
Darrel had already pulled out his phone and was talking to emergency services. After a couple of minutes he was back to help take one end of the stretcher in hand. "I talked to our contact at the PRT. They'll have a van and an ambulance coming out."
"Is stick-up-his-ass coming?" Daryl groused. "I mean, I respect the man, but very few people like him. If Taylor has triggered…" He let the thought hang.
"Yeah, she'd probably turn to villainy. It appears to be a common reaction to his 'logical and rational arguments' for joining the Protectorate and Wards."
"Excuse me, but I have a question. What are the PRT, Protectorate, and Wards?" Roxi asked.
Daryl looked stunned while Darrel snickered. "I'll give you a quick summary. In 1984, the first Parahumans, or people with powers, appeared on Earth…"
= = = = = = = = = =
Miss Militia watched as they approached a particular pair of buildings in the dock. She'd been here before, since the Protectorate often used the services that Uber and Leet provided. She was glad they'd decided to become independents, sticking to entirely legal means of showing off. It'd been quite the while since they'd called the PRT for assistance, usually Leet's security system drove off most would be thieves, and those it actually caught were turned over to the Brockton Bay police.
It was too cold for her to be on her motorbike, so she and Triumph were riding along in the PRT vans, which were following one of the ambulances that were assigned to the local PRT office. They'd passed the fence that marked the outer boundaries of the pair's 'lair' for want of a better term.
They pulled up to the area in front of the larger of the two warehouses, which had the high bay door cracked open, allowing the light from inside the warehouse to spill out. Uber was outside, a simple balaclava concealing his features, but otherwise wearing clothes suitable for a cold New England morning, directing them to where they were needed.
"Hey, Miss Militia, sorry to call you out here so early in the AM," Uber said.
"You think you might have a new trigger?" she asked. "And possibly related to the destruction of Winslow?"
"Yeah. She showed up here about thirty minutes ago. She suffered some horrific injuries as a result of being locked into her school locker with, according to what we were told, 'decaying feminine hygiene products, medical waste, and various insects.'
"As for the rest, you'll just have to see." Uber finished.
Miss Militia and Triumph walked through the door.
"That's impressive," the junior Protectorate member stated.
Standing at the far end of the bay was the mobile suit. "Projection, or Tinkertech?" Miss Militia asked Uber.
"Entirely too real," he admitted with a shrug. "I think my partner's beginning to get ideas, if you know what I mean."
"That doesn't bode well," Triumph said, smirking. "Where's our victim?"
"She's over here," Leet said, gesturing to the stretcher. "Brain injury, severe infections, and the medical systems aboard the robot had to amputate both legs below the knee, and the left hand above the wrist due to gangrene and necrosis."
"So, what is that?" Triumph asked, pointing at the Haro drone that floated nearby.
"I am a Haro drone unit currently assigned to the unit you see behind me," a feminine voice said from the floating drone. "My pilot has currently designated me as Roxi, my unit designation is RX-1, hull number forty-three, registration number M5882353."
"What are you?"
"That information is only available on a need to know basis," the drone said to Triumph. "Until such a need to know is established, that information is unavailable."
"I hate it when manifestations of powers have better information security than we do," the lion themed hero groused.
"Point of note," Roxi corrected. "I am not a manifestation of a power of any sort. I was built. Regardless of my origins, my first priority is to secure medical assistance for my pilot. I can only do so much with my emergency medical systems."
"I agree, strangely enough," Miss Militia said, gesturing to the PRT medics. They lifted the stretcher onto the gurney, and made sure the girl was secure.
The Haro drone followed the medical crew. "I have stabilized her injuries to the best of my abilities," it told them, and then began to rattle off a list of the extensive injuries the girl had suffered. "Preliminary scans show the presence of two anomalous structures in her brain.
"I also have her under electronic sedation," the drone finished. "The amputations would have been painful. I can provide a detailed file of what was done."
"Yeah, the doctors will probably require that," one EMT said.
"I will release the sedation, then."
Not more than ten seconds later, Taylor's eyes fluttered open. "I feel like shit," she moaned.
"Miss, you've been through a lot," the other EMT said. "While your companion has managed to stabilize you, we're going to take you to the PRT medical unit for examination and care. Do you understand?"
Taylor nodded. "I'll need to contact my father," she said quietly.
Uber nodded. "We know who he is, we'll handle that."
"I will accompany my pilot," the drone stated.
"We can't have you in the ambulance," the lead EMT said, as they raised the gurney up and began to wheel her out to the ambulance. "We don’t know if your presence will interfere with our gear or not."
"I understand," Roxi answered.
"It can ride in with us," Miss Militia said. "We have some questions we need to ask, hopefully those don't fall under your information security protocols."
"I will answer as truthfully as I can."
= = = = = = = = = =
Darrel watched as the PRT vans and ambulance sped out of the yard between the two buildings. "Well, that's that," he said, pulling his balaclava up. "I'll give Mr. Hebert a call, and we'll go and meet him at the PRT building. They'll probably be expecting us."
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Hello?" The voice was Danny's, though still sleepy.
"Mr. Hebert, this is Darrel Smith. I'm sorry to wake you up at this insane hour, but something bad has happened."
"This had better be good, Darrel," Danny growled. "It's two forty-five in the morning."
"We found Taylor in our second building thirty minutes ago."
"I'm listening." His voice had gone from grouchy but sleepy to deadly calm and wide awake in an instant.
"I won't go into details for now, but Taylor was hurt, we rendered medical assistance, and called the PRT for a pickup." Darrel explained.
"Why the PRT… was a Parahuman involved with Taylor's disappearance?" Danny shouted. Darrel held the phone away from his ear. Daryl could clearly hear Danny's voice from where he stood, several feet away.
"In a way," Darrel hedged. "We can meet you at the PRT building in twenty minutes."
"I'll be there in thirty." With that, Danny hung up.
"Better fire up your truck," Daryl said. "My van is currently in our garage. I need to replace the rear shocks and springs."
"Not my fault your last attempt at antigrav decided to become a grav multiplier," Darrel said with a smirk.
"We also need to think of a way to secure the main bay doors," Darrel yelled back as they walked over to his truck.
"I'll get 'em closed and bar 'em from the inside, then lock the man door," Daryl yelled back.
Accomplishing his task, albeit with use of the old electric fork truck they had in the building, Daryl joined Darrel in the cab of the truck. A quick press of the button to open the gate also had the security system arming, locking the doors, and turning off the lights.
= = = = = = = = = =
Miss Militia sat in the back with a pair of PRT troopers and the Haro drone Roxi was currently using. "Where are you from?" Miss Militia asked.
"I was built in the Vist Foundation facility on Luna, a joint collaboration between Anaheim Electronics, Kani Mechatech, and the Fog Technical Group."
"There is no such place here," Miss Militia answered.
"Not on your Luna, no," Roxi answered.
"Not on our Luna? Ah. Dimensional travel, then?"
"I have the capability to shift between various dimensional realspaces, yes." Roxi said. "It involves breaking out of one dimension into I-space, and from there, breaking into the desired realspace."
"Why did the girl become your pilot?"
"Not how?"
"Why."
"She called to me," Roxi said. "Something was happening while she was trapped in her locker. It gave me a set of coordinates to lock onto, where I could easily transfer her to my cockpit.
"From there, I used the coordinates to return to her realspace. Upon re-entry, she started hemorrhaging, and I noticed that her hands and feet had gone gangrenous and necrotic. My first priority was to keep her alive. I sedated her, dealt with the cerebral hemorrhage, cleaned out the infections, and removed the gangrenous tissues.
"There was enough biomass available to rebuild the right hand in its entirety. Most of the infectious agents she'd been exposed to appear to be mutations on bacteria found in human blood and waste products, in addition to the bacterial load found in many insects."
"How did you treat her?"
"Surgical nanites," came the reply. "I have an extensive medical library for humans and 2,257 other races, and I can determine an appropriate course of treatment quickly. My measures are stop-gap efforts to ensure my pilot makes it to real medical treatment."
"Thank you. One last question, then. Are you armed? It is usually a common feature of many giant robots." At Triumph's surprised look, she sighed. "It's common to the genre, they're usually built as weapons against some threat."
"To answer your question, Miss Militia," Roxi answered, "yes, I am armed. However, current mission parameters only allow for defensive fire. You probably noticed the weapon ports on my head?" At the nods from both heroes, she continued. "I have two sixty millimeter vulcans as close support and point defense weapons. For things requiring sterner measures, I have four beam sabers equipped."
"Beam sabers?" Triumph asked.
"Yes, though they are closer to being actuator held fusion torches than length limited beams," Roxi replied.
"We'd appreciate it if you kept their use to a minimum," Triumph added. "Preferably not at all."
"I would like that as well," Roxi answered. "But given human nature in general, it doesn't seem likely."
Silence reigned in the back of the van until they pulled into the PRT garage.
= = = = = = = = = =
Darrel and Daryl were sitting in the small waiting area the PRT had for late hours use, right off the secure entrance in the garage. It was a place they were familiar with, having been through it several times, but only once as the alleged perpetrators of a crime. They had gotten matters sorted out quickly, and the charges had been quietly dropped at the time.
Danny arrived soon after they'd sat down. The tall skinny man with thinning brown hair was familiar to both of them, not only because the DWA used their consulting services quite often.
"Hey, guys," Danny said, very tired from the early hour.
"Danny," Darrel said with a nod, handing him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks, Darrel," he said before drinking from the cup. "That's some strong coffee."
"Straight from the ready room for the night shift," the PRT sergeant said. "Mr. Hebert, I presume?"
"Yes, that's me. Can someone tell me what this is about?"
The door buzzed as the man keyed the lock from his side. "If you'll all follow me, we'll get matters sorted out." He led them down a hallway to an interview room. At the very least, they had provided fresh coffee and cups. "If you'll have a seat, gentlemen, Miss Militia will be with you shortly."
"So, what happened," Danny asked the duo sitting at the table with him.
"Taylor and a friend –" Daryl started, but was interrupted.
"A very large friend," Darrel interjected.
Daryl sighed, then continued. "– got into our B building. Things were resolved peacefully, she was hurt, we administered aid, and called our contacts here."
"That would mean that a Parahuman was involved, beyond my immediate company."
Miss Militia chose that moment to enter. "We're actually not quite sure." Floating behind her was a ball about a foot across, which had a rudimentary face. "Mr. Hebert," she said, offering her hand.
"Miss Militia."
Her handshake was firm, and the hint of a smile behind the bandanna was evident. "While we are unsure if a Parahuman was involved with what happened earlier," she continued, "Taylor has triggered. At this time, we're not going to push for anything, because she's in no condition to be making any decisions."
"So what is that?" he asked, gesturing towards the ball, which was sitting on the table.
"This is a Haro type drone that I am currently using to operate remotely," it said. "My apologies, I am currently going by the name Roxi. It is a pleasure to meet my pilot's father." With that, it rolled forward a bit, approximating a respectful bow, before rolling back.
"We've got something of a timeline for things this morning," the heroine stated, "but we'd like to know if you can add anything to it?"
"I got a call yesterday morning from the school – Winslow High – that Taylor hadn't shown up for classes. I came home early, to try and find out what was wrong, and she didn't come home. I called the police at nine PM to report a missing person. The police told me they did find a picture of her on a traffic camera near the school, just before classes began."
"If I may?" Roxi asked. At Miss Militia's and Danny's nods, the drone continued. "Taylor told me that she'd been locked in her locker on arrival at school by three students. Cursory examination of message traffic has brought to light several persons of interest."
At Miss Militia's arched eyebrow, Roxi emitted a sound like a sigh. "Ma'am. I have an exceedingly advanced SIGINT and ELINT suite as part of my sensor systems. Signal encryption here is mostly non-existent, and there are six individuals that were talking about Taylor Hebert during the last hour. Those would be Gregory Veder, Emma Barnes, Julia Cress, Mikhail Guderian, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements.
"It would appear that Misters Veder and Guderian were witnesses to the actual deed. Ms. Cress appears to not have had an active role, but the remaining three have significant message traffic that makes them complicit in the deed." The drone pivoted slightly to face Miss Militia. "I have determined that the best way to get this information to you would be by secure file transfer."
There was a beep from Miss Militia's phone, as the file was transferred over. The woman looked down at her phone. "Thank you, I think." Oh, Lord, is that going to cause a mess. Director Piggot will not be happy.
Danny had been watching Miss Militia's reactions to the information. "So, why is Taylor here?"
Before the humans could answer, Roxi did. "After leaving the wreckage of the building I materialized in, Taylor suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and had serious secondary infections, along with gangrenous wounds on her hands and legs. I provided emergency treatment, which stabilized her condition, and managed to get medical assistance."
Danny had turned green at the descriptions given of Taylor's injuries. "So, what's left of my daughter?"
"Roxi rebuilt your daughter's right hand in perfect condition. We're doing our initial imaging sets right now in medical. Her left hand from half way down the forearm and both legs from below the knee have been amputated. The only evidence of a cerebral hemorrhage is the arterial blood which stains her clothes, along with the," and here Miss Militia paused for a moment, appearing to lack a word to describe what she'd seen, "filth that was on her pants, shirt and jacket."
"I have provided the medical staff with a complete file of everything I found and treated," Roxi said. "They were grateful for the information and appalled at what I found. There are some other issues I found that I would like to discuss with you privately."
Danny arched an eyebrow at that.
"We'd like to keep Taylor for observation," Miss Militia said, "and call in Panacea in the afternoon. Provided Brandish allows it."
"However that brings us to the white elephant in the room," Daryl added,
"The eighteen meter tall, fifty ton white elephant that may have destroyed an alleged high school building?" Darrel quipped.
"That is also armed with some heavy weapons," Miss Militia finished.
The little drone tipped forward. "My apologies for the destruction of the building. Had I known my breakout point was inside a structure, I would have shifted it. My launch did the area no favors either."
"I don't think it is going to be a huge concern," Danny said. "The mayor has been looking for a reason to close Winslow and build a couple of smaller high schools to better serve the needs of the city. Roxi here has just pushed the timetable forward quite a bit."
"Still, it does mean that Mayor Christner will want to yell at Director Piggot a lot," Daryl snickered.
"What's the longest they've kept up yelling at each other, only to wind up laughing at the end?" Darrel asked.
"Three and a half hours," Miss Militia admitted. "And that was towards the beginning of the Director's tenure. To get the posturing out of the way, they’ll yell at each other for about ten minutes, then get to work on the problem."
Miss Militia's phone beeped, indicating an incoming message. "Taylor's through her imaging set, and has been admitted to a room for observation. I can take you up to see her, if you wish. I also have some additional information to give to you in private."
"Miss Militia, we already know," Daryl said. "Roxi's systems detected the presence of '…two anomalous structures…' in Taylor's brain. And we've known Taylor and Danny since we both worked in the DWA until we triggered."
"I was sad to see them go," Danny said, "but the law is rather unforgiving on those matters. But yes, I'd like to see my daughter. I suspect you have matters you wish to discuss with these two?"
"I do."
"Mr. Hebert, I will accompany you." Roxi said through the drone, which floated up off the table, moving to a position near Danny.
"An orderly will be down shortly," Miss Militia said. "Anything else we have to discuss will wait until Taylor has recovered."
"Otherwise, the Youth Guard will have the Protectorate by the short and squirrelly's," Darrel sniggered.
= = = = = = = = = =
Miss Militia looked at Darrel and Daryl, or as she knew them, Uber and Leet. "So, what do you think?"
"I think the computer running the drone is being honest," Uber said, leaning back in the chair. "I saw enough evidence of the injuries to make me pretty sure they happened."
"The suit itself is impressive," Leet added. "No way she built it, though. The infrastructure and materials required? Not possible in the area, even with tinkertech assistance. It's not a projection, because Taylor was unconscious when we found it."
"Yeah, there's that. I think it's exactly what it appears to be."
"Which is?" Miss Militia asked.
"A giant, piloted combat robot, resembling one from the imported Aleph anime franchise, Mobile Suit Gundam." Uber finished. "Except this one is way more advanced than anything seen in the show." He picked up his coffee cup to take a drink, then frowned when it was found to be empty. "For one, the suits didn't normally have a VI onboard."
"Technical details?"
"The things were fusion powered, and initially mounted various weapons typically found on tanks. As the show progressed, things moved more towards energy weapons. Those vulcans? They're most likely rapid fire beam cannons, really only limited by energy storage, recharge rate and cooling. The bigger beam cannons they carried were scary. And the beam sabers were capable of slicing through anything not sufficiently shielded."
Miss Militia nodded. "What can you tell me about the girl?"
"It's been a couple of years, so there are going to be things we're missing. She's always been quiet, but scary smart," Uber said from where he was getting himself more coffee.
"Unless she's comfortable with you or gets passionate about something, and then she's a regular chatterbox. She also has inherited her father's temper," Leet added. "Danny's temper is legendary: Some idiot took a swing at Annette after nearly causing a car accident. The idiot decided to be rude, and Danny took exception to that. When the police arrived, the idiot pleaded with the police to arrest him, just keep the scary man away from him." Leet took a sip from his coffee cup. "Her temper tends towards cold revenge. Someone once pushed her friend Emma and made her cry. No one involved could figure out how it happened, but the kid wound up covered in honey and had a rather large swarm of bees following him around."
"So if she found out who was responsible for her situation, given the equipment she now has access to?"
"Someone is going to have a bad day," Uber concluded. "Probably not a lethally bad day, because I think Roxi has some strict rules of engagement, but when it comes, it will be talked about for a long, long time."
= = = = = = = = = =
Danny and Roxi's drone were outside the room, where a PRT doctor was waiting for them. "Mr. Hebert? I'm Dr. Ellen Krogstadt."
"Doctor," Danny replied, shaking the woman's hand. "How bad is it?"
"All things considered," the doctor admitted, "pretty good. The amputations show what would normally be eighteen to twenty-four months of healing, and the right hand is in perfect condition. Her blood chemistry shows the byproducts of having had a set of very nasty infections, which is consistent with necrotic bacteria and gangrene."
"I would recommend a broad spectrum antibiotic as a preventive measure," Roxi suggested.
Dr. Krogstadt looked at the little drone and nodded. "We already have her on some. We'll have a prescription drawn on our dispensary for when she's released. Thank you for the complete report of her injuries. The toxicology and pathology was worrying."
"Can I see her?" Danny asked.
"In a minute," Dr. Krogstadt said. "I also need to tell you your daughter triggered. She is a Parahuman, though finding out what powers she may have will have to wait until her health has recovered. However, one question I do have is how is her home life? She is suffering from borderline malnutrition."
"Her home life isn't ideal," Danny admitted. "Since my wife died, we've both been kind of broken. It wasn't deliberate. A couple of good friends pretty much dragged me away from the edge, and we've been trying to work things out. We're just starting to pick up the pieces of our lives, and then this happens."
Dr. Krogstadt nodded. "I'd recommend you talk to some of our people here. We do have some assistance programs, as little or as much as you want. I'm glad it wasn't deliberate, Mr. Hebert. Anyway, we can go in and see your daughter now." And with that, she opened the door.
The room was small, since the medical station here could only handle a few people at a time for the long term, but it was spectacularly equipped. Taylor lay on the bed, the covers moving up and down as she breathed. Her hair, the long luxurious locks she was proud of, appeared to have been shaved off. More disturbing were the noticeable absence of feet under the sheets. There were several IV's going, fluids and the broad spectrum antibiotics.
"Hi, Dad," Taylor quietly said.
"Hey, little owl," he answered as he pulled up a chair to sit by the bed. "Don't do that again, OK?"
"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to make you worry…" Taylor gripped his hand with her right hand.
"Taylor, that's part of a father's job description. I'm sorry I haven't been a good father lately…"
Dr. Korgstadt left the room and quietly closed the door. She'd come back in a few minutes so Taylor could get some sleep.
= = = = = = = = = =
Armsmaster tromped back into his lab, having spent the last hour going over what was left of the main building of Winslow High School. There wasn't much left where the robot had materialized, but there had been some evidence that had made him frown.
The exhaust from the thrusters had partially melted the stone and ironwork, but in a specific pattern. Even allowing for the near vertical ascent profile, there was some debris left that held clues to who had perpetrated this misdeed.
He was not one to engage in overt anger at the stupidity and thoughtlessness of some examples of humanity. Even Assault, aggravating as he was, was at least competent and seldom wasted his time. No, the person who had done this to whoever had triggered in the locker and manifested the robot had only made his expression more grim. He brought up the image from his suit camera, that of a piece of sheet metal.
Sticking out of it was something that should not have been able to penetrate the metal the locker had been constructed out of. This piece had a sanitary napkin through it. The manner in which it was through the metal matched several crossbow bolts that had embedded themselves at the molecular level through things they shouldn't have.
He wondered, briefly, if the girl even know the amount of trouble she had gotten into, or was she sure she’d gotten away with it?
There would be answers to what had happened.
"Colin?"
Dragon's voice had brought him out of his inefficient speculation.
"Sorry, I was lost in thought."
"It happens to the best of us." Dragon said, her avatar politely hiding a chuckle. "I've just received some very startling images," she continued, another window opening up showing one of the clearer shots taken from the Rig's camera platform. "Who built that? Leet?"
"We're unsure of who built it," Colin admitted. "But we know it's not Leet, nor the girl who triggered inside it. It did leave the site where it appeared, and wound up several miles away, where Uber & Leet had set up. There may be a possible connection, but as the situation is only hours old, we're still not sure."
"Miss Militia did send me some rather disturbing data to verify," Dragon added. "I'm already securing search warrants for the data from all the listed parties. How could someone do that to someone else?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out." Colin's voice was grim and determined.
"I'll keep processing the data as it comes in," she said, then noticed Colin's eyes looking at the image of the titanic mechanical form. "You really want to look at that, find out how it works, don't you?" Her avatar wore a gentle smile.
"So much so," he admitted. "Looking at it gave me so many ideas, Dragon. So many…"
"I'm just worried about a number of idiots who will try something to either obtain the unit or the Parahuman."
"That worries me, too."
= = = = = = = = = =
In the hospital room, Taylor slept peacefully, the heart monitor beeping quietly. Roxi kept watch from where she sat on the table.
A new day dawns, she thought to herself, with new possibilities.