The Weaver's Web: Book II, Chapter 10

Working on my drones in the workshop was time-consuming but necessary. My fundamental limitation was range. There was very little information on expanding the range of powers. Some tinkertech systems supposedly could do it, and there were trumps—but there were no trumps like that in the Bay, not that I would trust them, and the few individuals who could make enhancing tinkertech were very cautious in their interactions. That, or they worked directly with a national government or major group.

The Elite supposedly had one.

And then, of course, there were rumors about secret organizations that sold powers and could also enhance your power.

I tended to discount those, and not just because Void Cowboy was their main booster.

If I had a way to produce powers, artificially, the lastthing I would do would be to sell them. It would be better to carefully pick and vet your subjects, especially since I presume you could ensure that some of your own people had the kind of Thinker power to let you make good choices.

So, Occam’s razor told me there was likely no power-granting conspiracy. Or, if there was, it was more likely that it was a cape with a power close to Teacher’s or Pastor’s, whether it was innate or a form of Trump power.

Which left me here, with advanced but non-tinkeretech gear. I didn’t have the money for Tinkertech and didn’t want to risk contacting a rogue who might have their own ideas about consumer satisfaction.

“Right…” I murmured. The batteries could power the drone for up to an hour, while I’d spent my time modifying its hull to be able to deploy smoke bombs and other payloads. A party laser display could fire through the smoke, or be used to temporarily blind individuals. But it would allow me to create the kind of display I needed.

And how for the controls. I could control it directly with my bugs. Until they left my range. Or my phone—unless it was jammed. So I’d worked several routines into the idiot computer. If it left one form of contact, it would default to the others, and if it couldn’t contact me at all, it would, depending on what I had programmed it to do, orbit the target, land, or return to a third location.

With a little bit of randomizer, it’d still look like it was under control and…

Earth Aleph has nothing like this. Tinkertech couldn’t be duplicated, but educated Tinkers, people like Armsmaster, could make what was the cutting edge just a little more cutting edge. The PRT licensed “find your face” app, allowed people who could barely hold a camera to take photos, and with a little work, a lot of cursing, and a lot of reading up on computer science and learning algorithms let me create…

Well, it wasn’t equal to the best military systems, or Tinker systems, but it could let a drone lock on an individual and either harass him or keep observing them, even if it was beyond control of my bugs or datalink.

Of course, PRT EMP systems could knock it right out of the sky, but I didn’t intend to be fighting the PRT, and if it did get knocked out, a little homemade thermite charge would burn the important parts—without heating the outer hull to the point where it might set a fire.

I finished work and looked at my drones. Four of them, all finished, more nearly ready to go.

Not everything I wanted, but enough, enough to keep people wondering.

But now I had to consider how to use it. I’d made a big splash with the display in E88 territory. Right now the E88 was claiming I was working for Lung. Lung had said nothing.

It was a win-win from the E88’s view. If I did nothing, I had lent their claims some legitimacy. If I did go after the ABB, I risked pissing off Lung, which might eliminate me entirely.

I would continue to work as I had.

And it was time to grow my legend. I had a single target, a newly bought bus ticket, and a plan…

After this, I’d have to start working on my extermination business, but this… this would be well worth the cost, and I wouldn’t even expend a drone. Just some of my painted glowbugs, and a few speakers.

***** 

Tom wasn’t a big part of the E88. Sure he’d done his initiation. The way that black bitch had squalled when he’d urinated on her was just funny as hell…

And then the lights went out. Something covered the lights, and the walls began to rumble.

What the fuck?

“You have no family, no friends, none who will notice you…” The voice came from everywhere and…

Oh. Shit. Orb Weaver.

“I’m Empire!”

“So were your friends. The ones who tried to murder a little girl. So was the man who killed himself. I was there, with him, at the end. You might even say…”

Suddenly, something fell down around his neck. A noose. It pulled tight, not enough to keep him from breathing but enough to…

“Fuck you, I won’t tell—“ Suddenly around him there were flying ghosts… flickering blobs of light, and words drifted through the rumbling, buzzing sound.

“It’s so dark…”

“So cold…”

“I didn’t believe him…”

“What…that are those?” Tom’s voice cracked.

“Others’ I’ve spoken to. Ones who did not… give me the answer I wanted.”

“Wha…what do you want?”

“You were down at the Iron Cross. Who is due to be initiated this week.”

“I can’t tell—“ The rumble grew louder. “Carl! Carl and Mike! Tomorrow! They’ll be meeting at the Iron Cross!”

“Who is overseeing it?”

“Um, I dunno. After that black bitch—“ Suddenly something gripped him by his legs, and he looked down, and there was a glowing, amorphous mass rising up.”

Tom squealed. “I don’t know!”

“Well, whoever I find, I’ll be certain to tell them what you told me, including their identity…”

“But… but Kaiser will kill me!”

“I’m certain he will.” There was a pause and a chuckle. “But you’ve helped me, and I am… well-fed, for now.” The mass holding him flowed away. And then so did everything else, at the last the lights coming back so he could see and Tom had never loved the light so much. But there was something….

A bus ticket. For… San Diego?

“You see, Tom, Kaiser will know of your misdeeds… tomorrow. But this is a ticket for tonight. Of course, if he finds out where you went… Or ever hears from you again… Well.” The voice had no source, the alleyway empty. “So if I were you, I’d run right down there, now, and leave. You have thirty minutes… Oh. Drop your cellphone here.”

Tom ran.

*****

I paralleled him, running along an alleyway, and he didn’t call anyone.

I didn’t touch his cell phone.

Because I didn’t think he had much information beyond what he’d given me, but as he got onto the bus, just before it pulled out, I waited.

And smiled. Orb Weaver had left his mark by Tom’s apartment. And the Empire, when they searched for him, would only find an abandoned phone under a dumpster in an alleyway—where another sigil of the Orb Weaver was.

Oh, I doubted Kaiser would be overly frightened, but to the rank and file… one of theirs had just walked into the dark…

And vanished.

Never to be seen again.

Of course, I would never say that, because well, Tom might come back or contact someone, and if I’d claimed to do anything to him, that would harm my reputation. If I said nothing, then consumed by Orb Weaver or just Terrified so badly he fled to San Diego, it’d be the same.

"Give me a place to stand, and a lever long enough, and I will move the world," I murmured to myself.

And right now my place was the streets, and my lever were all the little people the Empire depended on.

***** 

It hurt. All the time. If she asked too broad of a question, it hurt even worse. Mom didn’t believe her.

Chance of something bad happening to Mom and Dad by next week if I tell them?

88 percent.

She’d asked if the Protectorate could help her. No. In fact, that made the numbers worse. So she was working through the other heroes. And they were worse.

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►Reave(Verified PRT Agent) Posted on February 10, 2011: In Response to several questions, The Investigator is not currently working for the PRT. While she did have some interaction with Armsmaster, in the recent E88 related events, she remains a Rogue, although we are happy to work with her.

Chance the Investigator could help me by the end of next week?

85 percent.

But how could she… the Investigator, had rescued Krewe, and Krewe went to Arcadia. And Dinah could skip school and run to Arcadia and talk to her, and she could get Krewe to help Dinah.

Her head pounded.

Chance that contacting Krewe will involve the Investigator?

98 percent.

Good enough.