Part Sixteen

Aaron slept for nearly ten hours. When Melody rose with her alarm the next morning both Aaron and John were gone. Both had left notes which were reassuring but provided no information on where they were or what they were doing. John's note did inform her that there was breakfast in the refrigerator. There were also dishes in the sink, rinsed but not washed. Melody scowled at being left out - and being left the cleanup duty - but there didn't seem to be any major and urgent emergencies in the US or even the rest of the world just now. After a quick - and admittedly delicious - breakfast she focused on getting ready and to work.

Even there the wire services were reporting a slow day. However, few at the offices of The New York Glory were relaxing.

"It's like we're all waiting for something big to happen," said Sam, speaking with Melody in the break room mid-morning. "For the other shoe to drop. Something's coming."

"That doesn't mean it will get here any time soon," said Melody. She sighed. "That's the way to bet, though."

* * *

The same sensation of delayed tension was being felt by the Emergent. Even several days after Strike!'s failed attack the group was still collectively laying low and licking its wounds. Of course, the Anunaki subgroup was even more strongly affected. So many defeats in such short order - especially since many of those had been at the hands of empowered who had previously been unknown to them - had together dealt them a severe blow. One which affected both their logistics and their morale.

Though Strike! was not a member of the Anunaki, after dutifully delivering the report on his fight with Malak, he began avoiding his fellow Emergent. This made things a bit more difficult for Hanuman, since he was missing one of his best lieutenants. Still, he made do. Right now, Hanuman was evaluating several of the newcomers who were trying to join empowered. As well as the problems caused by one particular new member.

"I swear, Happy Jack does these things deliberately," said Chrome, as they took a break from their membership considerations.

"Of course he does," said Hanuman, smiling. "It's part of his raison d'être."

"More like an idée fixe," said Chrome, in a stage mutter.

Hanuman laughed.

"Why do you tolerate him?"

"A) He makes me laugh. B) He presents a mystery. C) I suspect - though I have no hard evidence to support this suspicion - that he is a plant."

Chrome sat up straight, startled.

"Then why let him in our group?!"

"Because I'm not certain. Also, as things currently stand I can keep an eye on him. If he is a plant - and I reiterate that is not certain - and we get rid of him, they might send someone we wouldn't spot."

"Who is this 'they'?" said Chrome.

"If he is a plant, he's probably an agent of Malak's group. Still, even if he is - and I don't want you doing anything to let him think we suspect him - he still injects a valuable tone of levity into our activities. That has been sorely lacking of late. Too many of the Emergent - and I count myself among that number - take themselves too seriously. However, even if he is valid, it would not be improper for us to omit new members from our more secret plans. Or even for us to allow them to misunderstand those plans."

"Understood."

"Besides, he knows the magic words."

"'Please' and 'thank you'?" said Chrome, grinning.

"'I can fix this,'" said Hanuman, with another laugh. "He is one of the best assistants I've ever had, with a wide range of skills, and a talent for persuading others to do what is asked of them."

"So, if he is a plant," said Chrome, smirking, "you're using our enemy's resources to help our group."

"That is definitely one way of looking at the situation."

* * *

Upon waking that morning Aaron found several disparate clues coming together in his mind. He had no doubt this would have happened eventually, but thanks to Melody's insistence that he get some sleep it had happened sooner rather than later. After a quick but filling breakfast with Blackpool, Aaron had headed off on his own to check something.

Later that day, in an isolated, hilly region of the Philippines, Aaron walked out of the forest and onto land which was just recovering from being burned. There was even some scent of burned wood and other materials remaining. He walked through the damp ashes and new growth, towards a cluster of burned-out buildings.

Animals as well as wild plants were already starting to occupy this land. Or, rather, re-occupy it. Aaron could tell it had been cleared with axe and fire not long before it was burned again. He scowled. This had all the earmarks of an illegal farm, even without the signs he saw of marijuana.

He spent hours there, combing through the wreckage. In that whole time no other humans approached the destroyed farm. Aaron did find several clues that his grandson had been there. As well as that whoever had burned the farm had taken prisoners. He also found a series of graves. Proper burials had been performed by someone, complete with makeshift crosses, all of which had names painted on them. That they were undisturbed confirmed Aaron's evaluation that the damage had been from one attack, with no follow-up from the attackers but some scavenging by the previous inhabitants. Despite the grimness of this scene, he felt hope. He recognized the handwriting on two of the crosses.

"So," he said, quietly, as the examined the painted names, "he's alive. Or was very recently. "

He produced a hunting knife and used it to shave a flat spot on the side of a tree, facing the graves. In that flat spot he carved a simplified pair of wings. That was all he could do, just now. He looked at his work, sighed, and vanished.

* * *

"The Emergent are definitely laying low for now," said Aaron, in yet another meeting with Blackpool, two days later. "The reason given by their leader is that he wants to pull back and reevaluate their policies. However, I suspect that is dissembling. If anything, their psychological evaluation shows that - as often happens with fanatics - they will change tactics but hold to the same goals."

"Hmph," said Blackpool, scowling under his mask. "Where are they hiding? They have to be somewhere!"

He didn't ask how Aaron had acquired that information. Just as he often didn't go into detail about how he had acquired some juicy clue.

"Given how easily many empowered can travel, most of them are likely staying separately in their favorite spots." Aaron shrugged. "Anyway, for now, they are a less urgent problem than many other things happening in the world. Thanks to Harriet, we know more about where to apply our efforts, now. She should also warn us of any renewed activity by the Emergent if we miss it."

* * *

The break room on Melody's floor at The New York Glory was both busy and no stranger to heated arguments. It just happened that in this instance both the two people involved in the discussion agreed in general, but had different views on the background.

"Why the Hell does Congress keep bringing up bills to restrict the empowered, then burying them?!" said Melody, almost spilling her soda as she threw her arms wide. "Why bring them up at all it they don't have a chance of passage?! All they're doing is encouraging hate groups!"

"It's an old tactic," said Sam, with a tired shrug. "Many folks in Congress get money from groups or individuals who... let's say, disapprove of empowered. By introducing bills they know won't pass the Congresscritters maintain that support while avoiding the consequences of success. In other words, business as usual."

"That is a very dangerous game," said Melody, tone ominous. "All it'll take is one too many idiots supporting one of these measures and there'll be empowered in concentration camps. Quickly followed by an empowered insurrection. We've seen what happened in other countries lately when they went through this sequence. None of the governments involved survived, but it was mainly the citizens who paid the price. Especially the empowered citizens."

"You're saying nothing new," said Sam. "Just keep mentioning the bills in your articles. The boss has already told the folks who write the political columns to mention them."

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" said Aaron, as he entered the computation chamber.

"We're having a very strange problem with Harriet," said CornFed, motioning him over to where she and Professor Bright were examining printed documents spread out on a large table. By her attitude, she seemed to half suspect that the computer was causing the problem just to annoy her. "We were testing her predictive capabilities and this showed up."

CornFed handed over a printed document. To Aaron's eye the contents looked more like freeform poetry than a direct communication.

"She keeps telling us things which turn out to be right, but they're phrased in ways which make what she means inobvious until after the fact!"

"A not uncommon problem with oracles," said Aaron, absently, as he paged quickly through the stack of sheets CornFed had handed him. "I wonder if that is because a specific answer might cause us to take actions which would prevent the prediction from coming true. Phrasing the message in this way prevents a prediction paradox."

"If we would just move to a purely deterministic computational algorithm we could avoid the vagueness!" said Professor Bright.

"The problem with that approach, Edmund," said Aaron, patiently, as he continued his review, "is that reality is not purely deterministic. Living things even less so."

Bright stalked off in a huff.

"He's going to be trouble," said CornFed.

"Now, now," said Aaron, gently. "Don't assign malice just because he has a different opinion."

"Oh! No, that's not me saying that. It's in some of Harriet's predictions."

"Any details in those predictions about him?"

"Very, very few," said CornFed, sighing.

* * *

"Louis?" came a voice from the other side of the dirty blanket covering the otherwise open doorway of the hut. The whole place was dirty, actually, looking like it was just barely not falling down. "You... have a visitor."

The man trying to nap on the crude cot inside came instantly awake, and to full alertness. The heavily accented voice belonged to someone familiar and trusted, but such an uneasy announcement might mean the speaker was being coerced by someone. Louis pulled the automatic rifle from under his bed and sat up, aiming at the door.

"I'm presentable," he said, in the same local Filipino dialect. "Send them in."

The blanket was pulled away, and Aaron stepped through.

"Grand-père!" Louis gasped.

The younger man quickly but carefully pointed the rifle up, flipped the safety on, put the weapon's butt on the bare dirt floor and leaned the flash hider against the wall. Then he rose to greet his grandfather.

For a long time they simply hugged. Then Louis silently invited Aaron to sit at the rickety table.

"Well," he said, finally, voice choked with emotion, "to what do I owe the honor?"

"Your father was worried about you. After checking into your situation I was worried about you."

"I saw the carving," said Louis, nodding. "I assume you got the clue I left."

"An interesting choice of bible verses, but I understood the message."

Louis realized they were both speaking Cajun French. Well, that was fine. They were both fluent in it, and this could keep anyone from eavesdropping. He trusted some of the people here with his life, but not everyone.

They spoke for a long time. First about family, then what Aaron/Malak had been doing, then world events. When Aaron mentioned working with Melody, Louis became upset.

"Is she the one who got my aunt killed?" said Louis, his tone bitter.

"No," said his grandfather, flatly. "She is the one your aunt sacrificed herself to save."

That actually made an impression on the boy. Seeming a bit embarrassed, he changed subjects, asking about the work at the repository and how Harriett - whose name he didn't know but whose existence he guessed - was doing. His grandfather told him but with few details.

Finally, Louis began relating his own exploits.

"After the raid on the farm, I moved here with the other survivors and what we could salvage," the younger man finished.

"You have no hard evidence of who the raiders were."

"Like I said, they wore nondescript outfits and bandanas on their faces. They could have been government troops acting covertly on orders, troops gone rogue or members of one of the local drug cartels."

Aaron leaned towards his grandson a bit.

"What were you growing that would have so many groups after your hide? Marijuana?"

"No, that's not it," said Louis, with a brisk shake of his head. "Well, there was some, but that was partly a side product to raise money and partly a cover for our actual work. We're growing a new type of plant which contains one of the safest trigger chemicals known."

That was startling! As were the implications.

"You're planning to flood the Philippines with empowered."

"Not flood. Just... create enough to help this poor country get a leg up in the world."

"Is this really what you want to do?" said Aaron, showing concern as multiple ramifications ran through his mind.

"Yes, Grandfather. This isn't my dream alone. I didn't even start all this. The person who did is dead, murdered by the government six months ago. There are thousands of us who believe in this and are working to breed and distribute the plant."

"All right. Just remember that if you need help I am available."

"Thank you, Grandfather."

"Now I need to go and talk to your father," said Aaron, with a sigh, "and explain why I didn't forcibly carry you home."

The boy had to laugh at that.

"Tell him I've put on too much weight to carry. He and Mother are always fussing that I'm too skinny."

* * *

The preparations among the Emergent for the next action against Malak were proceeding well. However, not everyone agreed with those plans.

"Why Gil and not me?!" demanded Strike!, who had finally reappeared. Ironically, the information he had earlier provided on his own lack of success was instrumental to those plans.

"You had your shot," said Gilgamesh, with a sneer.

"Because you are too invested in revenge," said Hanuman, trying to head off another argument between those rivals. "We need someone impartial, who will make a quick, clean kill, with as little collateral damage to our world as possible."

True, though diplomatically phrased to reduce the chance of trouble between those two. Even better, it worked. For now, at least. Hanuman leaned over his display table.

"Let us plan."