Part Twelve

"I hear you've been taking lessons," said Melody, raising an eyebrow. Thanks to Blackpool providing transportation, she was currently spending several hours a week at the repository. This wasn't helping her writing productivity, but the inside information she got - even just what she could share - was invaluable. Right now, she was in the small office Aaron had recently been assigned at the repository. "Couldn't you find a better teacher than Mannequin?"

"I found several," said Aaron, calmly. "Besides working with Mannequin and AmberMite, I've been to the Hermit of Mink Hollow, as well as to see Harrison in his cave on Kei Ṭū, plus reading the works of many others. They all had something useful to teach me. I've learned enough - for now, at least - for me to progress on my own."

He gave her a self-satisfied smile.

"I've long been a student of philosophy. I just never saw much reason before this to apply it to physical matters."

"How do you make a physical application of philosophy?!"

"Perhaps 'esoteric physics' would be a more apt term. The idea that mind can affect not just matter, but the path of reality, itself."

"Like Harriet," said Melody, quietly.

"We do everything we can to supervise Harriet's interaction with reality," said Aaron, firmly, realizing his friend's concern. "We have multiple sources of information feeding into her continuously. She currently knows nearly as many languages as I do. We also have several quick-thinking empowered working in shifts, to provide context and analysis. We are already reducing that supervision, and eventually Harriet will know when to ask for help to understand something."

"I just am not comfortable with the idea of anyone or anything being able to alter reality," said Melody, shifting uneasily.

"Neither am I. However, it is already happening. Has been for decades. We take what precautions we can. In the meantime, Harriet has allowed us to not only be more aware of problems in the world more quickly, but has made connections which we did not see ourselves, but have now verified. Like those attacks on relief efforts you mentioned to me. They fit into an overall pattern of behavior by the Emergent. Especially the Anunaki subgroup. Yet we were previously unaware of them because important details were kept secret."

"Does this mean you're going to take action against those who are attacking refugees and the people helping them?" said Melody, eagerly.

"It does, indeed. Thanks to Harriet, I now even have a very good idea of where this Ninurta will strike next."

"Ninurta?" said Melody, still eagerly, her reporter senses fully active.

"A Russian-born empowered who is a part of the Emergent. His description matches what you saw on the film. He is one of those in the Anunaki subgroup, who feel they need to make the point that human lives are insignificant to them. Though they put a lot of effort into hurting people they brag aren't worth their concern."

"I hope he's stopped soon," said Melody, looking worried. "I also hope whoever stops him is careful. I played him down a bit to the feds, but from what I saw in that newsreel he's dangerous. In that he's both powerful and ruthless."

"Don't worry. We're not taking him - or his allies - lightly. Right now, though, I am helping with bringing aid - including emergency power generation - to a part of India hit by a powerful cyclone."

* * *

The war had displaced thousands. Here and now, hundreds were braving the rain to file through gates into a relief camp, which was protected by UN troops and serviced by several governmental and private agencies. The recent attacks by the mysterious winged figure had encouraged disparate groups to combine their efforts, in the hope of both helping the needy and preventing their own people from being slaughtered.

Their hopes evaporated as someone pointed to the sky and gave a cry of alarm. The soldiers quickly confirmed a winged figure heading their way, rapidly, at low level; something both visible and now showing on radar. The non-combatants dove for cover as the strange apparition began circling overhead. Soldiers aimed their weapons but waited, holding action as per their orders.

The winged figure raised its hand. A brightly-glowing bolt of lightning formed, flickering eerily. The stark, rapidly changing illumination lighting his features made reading them difficult. However, he seemed to be smiling. Before this thunderbolt could be loosed, though, a spear with a tip burning magnesium bright shot in from ahead and to his left. It struck him in the chest and exploded. The figure screamed and lost control of the bolt, which erupted in his hand. He dropped. Fortunately for both him and the refugees, he fell into the mud outside the camp.

He lay insensate, all six limbs spread awkwardly in the mire as the rain poured down, steam and smoke rising from his still form. A grey-winged angel flew out of the dark clouds above and landed nearby.

"You are under arrest," said Malak, in Russian, as the other stirred. "I am operating under the authority of the UN relief agency in charge of this operation. Your days of murder, rape and rampage are over."

The first winged man was dazed and on his back but not out of fight by any means. With an angry cry and a thrashing of his wings he surged clumsily back to his feet, spattering mud. With the two of them now standing not far apart, the differences between them were obvious. The most notable one at the moment being that the attacker's wings were smaller, straighter and darker, his clothing more modern. He shouted in Russian.

"I am Ninurta! You dare put me in the shit?! I am your doom!"

He formed another lightning bolt and hurled it at Malak. A massive shield - tall and curved, resembling a larger version of the scutum, as used by ground troops of the Roman Empire - formed, and the bolt spent itself harmlessly on it. However, Ninurta was not done. He threw himself at Malak, screaming in rage.

"Race traitor!" he cried, as he charged through the gluey mud. "Betrayer of empowered! My name will be sung for ages by the greatest of us to celebrate my bringing your death!"

With that last word he slammed into the shield... and kept going. Malak was not there to support it and it simply collapsed, then vanished. Ninurta staggered, nearly fell, caught himself, then spun around, trying to find his opponent. He opened his mouth to release more invective. Malak appeared in front of him.

"Last chance," said the angelic figure. "Surrender or die."

"You will die!" screamed Ninurta, raising his fists. "Then all here will die, except for those few I choose to spread word of my glorious victory!"

He threw himself again at Malak. Who swatted him aside with a wing. Ninurta fell and rolled, his own wings folding awkwardly around him. He lay a moment, then abruptly revealed another power by generating a blinding flash. Immediately afterward, he hurled a lightning bolt from where he lay. Malak - already using his sonar and only slightly inconvenienced by the flash - still barely manifested his shield in time to block the attack. Even as the crack of thunder was echoing away, Ninurta slammed into the shield. This time there was someone behind it. Malak slid backwards from the impact, his sandals digging twin trenches in the mud, but he kept his balance. The pair of winged men slowed and stopped. Then Malak shoved hard, pushing Ninurta away. The shield abruptly vanished. Malak leaned forward, and both of his wings swung around, catching Ninurta's head between their elbows. There was a muffled crack, and the rogue empowered dropped. Malak quickly moved in to lay hands on him.

"That's the problem with fighting someone you know little about," he muttered, in English, as UN soldiers approached cautiously. "You can never be sure how physically tough they are. He has a fractured skull. I'll heal that, but leave him unconscious. Handle him with care, in both senses of the phrase. Oh, and you should report that he didn't survive. You don't want his allies mounting a rescue."

"Yes, sir," said the Major in charge of the soldiers, rather deferentially. "We have a doctor here who is experienced with treating empowered. He should be able to keep Ninurta unconscious for a good, long time."

"Excellent. Now, what else can I do for you?"

* * *

The meeting was an informal one between Blackpool and Aaron, in the former's office at the chemical repository. Mainly they were just keeping each other informed about what was happening. Both at the repository and the world outside.

"I'm not certain telling them to say Ninurta was dead was the right decision," said Blackpool, frowning, after hearing Aaron's account of the capture. "They'll almost certainly be coming after you, now."

"Better me than UN troops protecting refugees or NGO workers trying to feed and heal them, or the guards at the prison where he's held," said Aaron. He shrugged. "Besides, the Emergent have a long history of acting quickly as individuals and never as a group."

"There is that," said Blackpool. He eyed his friend suspiciously. "I just hope they don't attack your town or clinic. Or here, though we're far better equipped for defense than either of those places."

"Neither my town nor my clinic are as undefended as they appear," said Aaron, confidently.

"You're drawing them out," said Blackpool, nodding as his suspicion was confirmed.

"The problem is finding them," said Aaron, tacitly acknowledging the other's statement. "Harriet is helping, but is still learning. Meanwhile, some of the Emergent continue to blatantly flout both laws and morality, then use their powers to prevent anyone from finding them."

He scowled, shaking his head.

"It's astounding how many of them are already wanted for questioning or something more serious, including by INTERPOL. They act like naughty children, bragging and acting out, then avoiding confrontation with the adults. If they truly believe what they claim about being superior to non-empowered humans, why not own up to their actions? Go to court and try to prove, legally, that they are right. I suspect they know that wouldn't work."

"Even when one of them is successfully captured," said Blackpool, also scowling and perhaps speaking from personal experience, "one or more other members quickly free them. So maybe you took the right course."

He shook his head, now, deciding to change the subject.

"Anyway, the incineration is currently ahead of schedule. We've actually moved to focusing on the most dangerous chemicals remaining, rather than the most damaged containers. What's left is all in safe, stable storage so damage potential of the contents is the priority.

"The training program isn't doing as well as I had hoped, but we still have enough students and qualified volunteer teachers to make the project worthwhile."

"Excellent; I'll do more to spread the word about it," said Aaron. He heaved another, greater sigh and gave Blackpool a sloppy grin. "We are, in most cases slowly, bringing improvement to the world."

"Has there been any update on your grandson?" said Blackpool, quietly.

"I confirmed that he was last seen in the Philippines. He apparently planned to help some acquaintances with raising crops and getting them to the market."

"So he takes after you," said Blackpool, his grin showing through his mask.

"In some ways. He does have some low level enhancements, and he likes to help people. However while no-one has come right out and said it, I suspect the 'crops' included home distilled whiskey and processed marijuana."

"That... could be trouble."

"Which he is definitely no stranger to," said Aaron, with a sigh and another shake of his head. "At twenty-four he's the youngest of my grandchildren, and in many ways the biggest free spirit."

* * *

The head of the Foreign Intelligence Agency looked at the man standing before him. That individual was officially in charge of a minor branch of the agency. Which was actually true. It just happened that the minor branch was cover for the FIA's "unofficial" domestic intelligence gathering arm.

"You assured us - me, personally, in fact - that Malak was the responsible party in these attacks on refugees," said the FIA chief. "We based policy and planed actions on that evaluation. Now we have a report from reliable sources that he, instead, stopped the person who was actually responsible."

"I got bad information from the person who interrogated that reporter," said the man, calmly. He was in a risky business, and used to being called on the carpet. He was also used to diverting blame to others. "He told me she was obviously lying when she said it was someone else. That made sense, since she's romantically involved with Malak."

"She isn't," said the chief, scowling. "Why would you think so?"

"She keeps defending him!" said the man, startled. He didn't seem to realize he was engaging in circular logic.

"I think you are going to be reassigned to a less demanding position," said the chief, flatly. "Some place where your analyses will not mislead us."

"But..."

"That is all."

The man ground his teeth, but knew better than to protest. He still had many good years ahead of him. He would work his way back up. He nodded in acknowledgment, turned around and left the luxurious office.