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• Vulcan Science Academy (Star Trek)

At seventeen Jim says that he wants to leave, and T’Sol suggests the Vulcan Science Academy, and that’s that.

This is an AU of my previous AU(s) Linguistic Ambiguities in Vulcan Ethical Codes and Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations , though you shouldn't need to read either of them to understand this (I hope).

(See the end of the work for more notes .)

(See the end of the chapter for notes .)

Chapter Text

That’s not really that, because even though Jim has spent the past four years on a Vulcan research vessel, he’s not actually Vulcan, and it’s an uphill battle against sehlats and windstorms and thousands of years of thinly-veiled xenophobia masquerading as traditionalism, but six months after his seventeenth birthday Jim is accepted into in the Vulcan Science Academy, and two weeks later when the ship docks on Vulcan Jim packs up his one bag of belongings, wishes his 300 stand-in parents peace and long life, and steps out onto Vulcan.

The less that is said about the heat, the better.

He survives on tri-ox and vitamin supplements and wonders how Amanda Grayson—the human who has lived on Vulcan for the longest time in history—stands it. He builds up his muscle mass and learns how to fight and collapses more times that he would like to admit and works ten times harder than anyone around him because he’s human and  has  to.

At twenty-two, he joins Starfleet.

Sivan informs him that the decision is illogical, as he is an otherwise satisfactory graduate of the Vulcan Science Academy and as such has access to Vulcan research that is not otherwise available. Jim informs him that he misses the stars. Sivan does not find this a satisfactory response, as T’Khasi has significantly less light pollution than San Francisco and as such provides greater opportunities for viewing any star that Jim intends to study.

Jim leaves anyway.

He becomes a cadet at Starfleet Academy, and in another life he would have chafed under the rules and regulations, but Jim has lived with Vulcans for nearly half his life, he just left a school where emotion is forbidden and rooms are not labeled because students are expected to remember their location, and Starfleet feels astonishingly lax.

Jim makes friends with a doctor from Georgia, and hits on every woman he can find and doesn’t sleep with any of them because he hasn’t had casual touch in ten years and isn’t quite sure he likes it anymore, and he keeps an IDIC pin on his undershirt but does not show it to anybody.

Despite his clear aptitude for science, he takes few science classes, his focus is instead on Command—the one subject he could have not learned at the Shi’Oren t’Ek’Tallar T’Khasi. He intends to graduate in three years; he has no need to spend that long at the Academy, but it is long enough not to draw undue attention to himself, and to reacclimate himself with Terrasu culture. He will need to be able to act adequately Terran, should he wish to Captain a ship. While the Federation espouses itself as being all-accepting, it still favors those who are Terran.

Sometimes, when nobody is looking, Jim forgets that people smile.

Watching the cadet take a bite from his apple, Spock reminds himself that anger is illogical, no matter how much disrespect grates on his nerves. He is a professional, and an officer of Starfleet; he will not succumb to petty tantrums no matter how gratifying they may feel in the short term.

About to inform the Lieutenant in charge of administering the test that he is unaware of how the cadet subverted the testing scenario, Spock sees a notification on his PADD informing him of the receipt of a file. The file, Spock sees upon opening it, is a sourced and annotated explanation of the logical reasoning behind the subversion of the testing parameters of the  Kobayashi Maru , as well as a detailed description of the method used to alter the subroutines necessary to effect such a change.

Spock decides it would be logical to reserve judgment on the cadet.

For the second time in Jim’s life, the world is ending around him.

He grabs T’sai Amanda’s hand, saying, “Sanu, T’sai, come with me,” and even though he is psi-null he feels the surprise in the stiffening of her hand before she begins running with him. The walls are falling around him, and through the running he feels a wave of grief at the loss of such history.

There will be much to grieve, but at the moment he has no time for grief.

When they are outside the katric ark, Spock calls for a beam-up. T’sai Amanda begins to pull away, and Jim grabs onto her wrist, saying, “There is a higher probability of successful beaming when lifesigns are in close proximity.

And then the world turns to light, and they are on the beaming pad in the  Enterprise .

Jim releases T’sai Amanda’s wrist, and she turns and wraps her arms around Spock, saying, “My son, my son.”

Kevet-dutar Sarek faces Jim and says, “I thank you for insuring the safety of my ko-telsu.”

Jim inclines his head. “I am pleased to have been of service, kevet-dutar.”

The less that is said about Delta Vega, the better.

Spock’s hand is around Jim’s throat, and Jim is saying, “It is illogical for you to claim to be anything but emotionally compromised when you are currently performing violence on a member of Starfleet and of your own crew, who has thusly committed no violence against you,” until his air runs out and the darkness begins to fold in on him and he thinks, my world is gone twice-over, and perhaps it would be logical for me to die as well.

Jim finds himself in Medical as the ship limps back towards Earth; he has several cracked ribs as well as other injuries, that the medical staff insist be seen to. He is still Captain, technically, but Sulu has the conn.

Beside him, Bones—Jim’s one attempt at creating a nickname—is attempting to treat pid-kom T’Pau despite the fact that all that she is suffering from is bond-failure due to the loss of T’Khasi and the Vuhlkantra rather than any physical ailment.

Jim turns, bracing one hand against his side so that he can move despite the pain in his ribs, to say, “Bones, you’re not going to be able to help. Pid-kom T’Pau isn’t injured.”

Bones squints at him, then says, “You’re not a doctor. What would you know about it? And what the hell is a pid-clam?”

“My title,” T’Pau says, and Jim straightens painfully at the sound of her voice, “is pid-kom. It indicates my position as the matriarch of the Clan Surak.” She turns her gaze on Jim. “You are James Kirk.”

“Yes, pid-kom.”

Pid-kom T’Pau switches to Vuhlkansu, saying, “Though your choice to leave Vulcan following your graduation from the Vulcan Science Academy was illogical, it served as the catalyst for your survival. The decision will thus no longer be viewed as a loss. Your service honors us.”

Jim swallows down the urge to gape at her, because that’s frankly the nicest thing a Vulcan has ever said to him, and it’s  T’Pau , instead saying, “Shaya tonat. Tushah nash-veh k’odu, pid-kom.”

“No thanks are needed for the truth, khart-lan. Tushah nash-veh k’du.” She looks back at Bones, saying in Standard, “I will meditate now.”

Bones blinks at her before turning on Jim to glare at him and demand, “What on Earth was that? Since when do you speak Vulcan?”

“It is illogical for you not to have informed your colleagues of your abilities,” T’Pau says reproachfully, and Jim sags a little, which hurts like a knife through his side. He should probably actually get his ribs dealt with sometime soon.

For the moment, though, he just says, “Restricting dissemination of my history ensured a meeting with my classmates on a more even ground, leading to greater bonds that will aid me in a leadership role in the future.”

T’Pau looks at him for a second, then says, “Your logic is sound.”

“What the actual fuck?” Bones breathes, then mutters, “Ma’am,” at T’Pau.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jim says. “Any chance you can fix my ribs now?”

Bones swears at him through the whole procedure.

“So,” Bones says at the start of gamma shift; the ship is almost back to Earth, so most of the crew is still awake. “The Vulcan thing.”

Jim leans his head back against the wall behind his seat, careful in how he moves so as not to agitate his partially-healed ribs. “The Vulcan thing,” he agrees, then sighs. “You must have guessed I wasn’t raised on Earth.”

“Given that you’re allergic to half the planet and didn’t know a single reference from the last ten years, yeah, I guessed that. I figured you were raised in a colony or something. Your whole family dropped off the earth until you showed up at the Academy.”

Jim lets out a slow breath, considering how much to tell Bones. There’s no logical reason to keep anything from him, but he finds the idea of telling Bones everything difficult regardless. Finally, he says, “I spent a few months on a colony, beginning when I was twelve and ending when I was thirteen. Following the evacuation, I lived on a Vulcan research vessel for approximately four years, after which I spent approximately four and a half years at the Vulcan Science Academy. Then I joined Starfleet.”

Bones whistles. “I’ll get to that later stuff in a minute—though, Vulcans, that explains a lot, actually—but evacuation? When did they have to evacuate an entire colony?”

“Following the massacre on Tarsus IV.”

“Fuck.” Bones lurches up out of his chair, pacing around the small office space with his hands clenched in his hair. Jim watches him walk, unsure of how he’s supposed to react. “ Fuck . Why didn’t I know this? Why aren’t you on the survivor list?”

“As I remained on the first-response ship and never boarded the Starfleet vessel for patient intake, I was never added to the survivor list. To avoid the additional scrutiny, it was logical to not alter that.”

Bones stares at him, then asks, “How did I never notice that you talk like a damn Vulcan?”

“It gets stronger during times of stress.”

Bones paces for another fifteen seconds, glancing at Jim twice during the time, before saying, “What about your family? I can’t imagine they were too happy with you living on a Vulcan ship instead of with them after Tarsus.”

Jim looks down at his hands. His knuckles are still scraped raw after his fight on the  Narada . “My brother ran away from home when I was ten, and my step-father was the one who sent me to Tarsus. And I haven’t spoken to my mother in eleven years.”

“As far as I am aware, she is still alive, though I suppose she could have been on one of the ships sent to the battle.”

“She’s Starfleet?”

“A science officer. Last I checked, she was stationed on the  Gagarin , though that could have changed.” Jim shrugs. “She didn’t give a fuck about me, and as far as I know she never found out about Tarsus, though I suppose Frank could have told her.”

“Shit,” Bones says again, “I’m sorry.”

Jim drums on his thigh. “So anyway, that’s the Vulcan thing.”

“Does that mean you’re an honorary Vulcan?”

“I am not a Vulcan citizen, if that is what you are inquiring. I was raised—for some of my life—by Vulcans, and then I lived on Vulcan for another set of my life. I am connected to the Vulcan culture, and I had colleagues with the Vulcan Science Academy, most of whom are likely now dead.”

“Oh,” Bones says, then, “shit. Once we’re planetside, are you going to reach out and see who’s still alive?”

Jim shakes his head. “Those who did survive would not appreciate the distraction.”

“Damn emotionless hobgoblins.”

There are dual pings from their PADDs, halfway across the room from each other, and Jim leans over just as much as necessary to grab his and look at it. His ribs protest even that little amount of movement.

“An hour from atmospheric entrance,” Bones reports as he swipes across his PADD. “They need you on the bridge for that?”

“I’ll head there in fifty minutes. Given the amount of damage on the ship, we’ll need to be careful.” He swallows, shifting again with a hand pressed against his side to brace against the pain. Rib injuries are the worst. “It’ll probably take at least three hours from there to dock, and it might get a little bumpy.”

Bones nods. “I’ll notify the med bay, make sure they’re prepared to take on extra patients if needed. The beds are pretty much filled, but we can still triage if necessary until we can get them to the Starfleet hospital.” Bones’s eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”

“I am adequate.”

“Reassuring.”

Some Vulcan: T'Khasi: Vulcan (planet) Vuhlkansu: Vulcan (person, language) Vuhlkantra: Vulcankind Shi'Oren t'Ek'Tallar T'Khasi: Vulcan Science Academy (VSA) Sanu: Please Kevet-dutar: Ambassador Shaya tonat: Thank you Tushah nash-veh k'odu: I grieve with thee (to an honored person) Tushah nash-veh k'du: I grieve with thee (to a person of lower status)

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Navigation and actions, listing works, she who loves roses by planxty, fandoms: star trek: the original series  .

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Saavik’s case was a unique one: bonded to a Vulcan man in her youth and later in life unintentionally finding herself with a second bond to a human woman. They found harmony in living separate lives…until her Vulcan partner entered Pon Farr.

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Vulcan's Forge [Worm/Star Trek] [OP!Taylor;TINO;Short]

• Thread starter hume
• Start date Jul 25, 2018

It was supposed to be raining. As Taylor watched the coffin slowly rattle into the ground...

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STOP POKING MEEEEE

• Jul 25, 2018

It was supposed to be raining. As Taylor watched the coffin slowly rattle into the ground, that was the odd thought that kept swirling around in her head: it was supposed to be raining. It wasn't supposed to be sunny. Losing your only remaining parent wasn't a joyous occasion, so it wasn't supposed to be sunny … it was supposed to be raining. It was supposed to be raining. Mister Barnes' hand rested gently on her shoulder, over the coat he'd bought her himself to shield her against the winter chill. He looked like he was carved from stone, no emotion showing on his face, but she could just barely see the tears gathering in his eyes. He and her father had been friends, best friends, no matter how much her father had retreated from the world after the death of his wife. Alan Barnes had worn a similar expression during that funeral, pulled out of the deepest part of the closet where it'd been stored in hopes of never being used again, just like the black dress that Taylor wore under her new coat. The rites finished, and one by one people stepped forward to throw a shovel full of dirt onto the coffin. It was only when Alan gave her a gentle push that she knew it was her turn; she couldn't hear anything over the omnipresent ringing in her ears, the same ringing that had been present since the police had shown up at the house door to break the news: her father was dead. Murdered by Hookwolf for the crime of getting between the cape and his target. Daniel Hebert had become a martyr and hero to the Dockworker's Union as a result; the news was in an uproar, the PRT was making the right noises, and the Empire Eighty-Eight was actually laying low for once. A few members of the Union had approached her at the funeral, trying to compliment her with words about how brave and selfless her father had been. She hadn't bothered to tell them that chances were, Danny had just seen the chance at suicide-by-cape; to finally finish what had started with the death of his wife, chasing a ghost that was worth more to him than his living daughter. Since then Taylor had been stuck in a kind of numbness. She'd been sitting quietly on the couch when Kurt and Lacey had barged in to gather her up. She'd barely spoken a word outside of a robot-like monotone when Alan arrived and spoke to her about how he'd take care of her just like Annette and Danny had wanted. He'd slept over at the house to keep an eye on her; he'd taken her to get the new coat; he'd driven her to the funeral. A closed-casket funeral, because Hookwolf was messy when he killed. Her shovel full of dirt rattled as it landed on the top of the coffin, dry and loud. It would have been quieter if it was wet. It was supposed to be raining. On the other side of Alan stood his daughter, Emma, in her own black dress… once Taylor's dearest friend, now apparently her mortal enemy. Taylor didn't know what she'd done, but the red-haired girl had been vicious for the past four months, along with her new best friend Sophia. Between them, there was no boundary of cruelty they wouldn't cross, physical or mental. Taylor had chosen to come with Emma to Winslow because of sisterhood, and now the school had become a personal Hell, and she had no idea why. Emma barely looked in her direction, which was a relief. In a strange way the other girl seemed to swing between near-tears and an expression of contempt, like she herself didn't know what she was supposed to be feeling. Except when she'd glance over at Taylor, and they'd briefly meet gazes; and Emma's face would twist into an ugly smirk of contempt. Taylor would meet the smirk with a blank expression of her own, empty and numb. The last of the ceremonial shovels of dirt was thrown, and then there was hugging and talking. Taylor was the recipient of much of that, though she rarely opened her mouth or raised her arms. There was many pitying looks, many mutterings of ` Poor dear ' and ` Still in shock ' when they thought she couldn't hear. Finally Zoe, Alan's wife, came over to put a hand on Taylor's back. Unlike Alan she'd let her tears flow freely, her face reddened and mascara smudged where her tissue couldn't clean the mess. Anne, their eldest daughter, stood just behind, forcing a hollow smile for the younger girl. "Come on, Taylor… we'll stop by your house and pick up enough clothes and stuff to tide you over until we get you settled in." "I'm going to be staying with you?" Taylor asked. She thought she remembered them saying something like that. "Of course," Zoe said, her voice hitching as she squeezed Taylor's shoulders gently. "It's what Danny a-and Annette said they wanted. I know you're worried about the house, about the memories there, but don't worry, we're not making any decisions without you. We can carry the mortgage for a little while. But you understand a fourteen-year-old girl can't live by herself, right?" Taylor did understand, and nodded. She didn't bother explaining that she wasn't concerned about where she was being moved from , instead her worry was about where she was being moved to : into the Barnes' home, within easy reach of Emma. The Hebert home had been dark and quiet and sad, but it wasn't Winslow; no matter what happened at the school, at least Taylor knew she could go home and escape it. That would no longer be true. The shield around her heart began to crack. "Anne, could you go get the car, please?" She nodded, relieved to have a task and to escape the oppressive sorrow. Alan was speaking to Kurt, probably about what was going to happen to the Dockworker's Union, and Zoe stepped away to speak to share a hug and some words with Lacey. Emma stepped up beside Taylor. It was a long moment before she spoke, and every silent moment clawed at the taller girl's nerves. Finally: "I don't know why my parents want to bring trash into the house." The redhead turned to glare at Taylor, who refused to meet her gaze. "You'd better not keep me awake with your bawling, or I'll put you outside like the dog you are. You remember this: your Dad threw himself at Hookwolf because it was better than putting up with you. He didn't want you. We don't want you. You belong in the ground next to them. Why don't you just jump into the hole before they fill it up and save time?" Taylor flinched like every word was a blow, and within, the cracks spread. Tossing her hair, Emma turned to go stand next to Alan. It was never going to end. She'd thought she just had to last until she was done with high school, but it was never going to end. Her parents had left her with a family that hated her, Emma had no low to which she wouldn't sink, and that was never going to end. It was never going to end. "Taylor?" She couldn't breathe. It was like she'd forgotten how. Zoe was standing in front of her, gently gripping her by the shoulders. "Taylor, honey, are you okay?" Behind her, Alan turned at his wife's worried tone. It was never going to end. Her heart shattered, raw hopelessness crushing it. She wavered on her feet, Zoe's cry of surprise sounding far away- She was somewhere else. Vast, indescribable creatures filled her vision -- indescribable because they didn't conform to any mundane measurements such as height, or width, or depth. They twisted around each other and through each other, every movement bringing more and less into perception. They turned through the space between stars, and shed pieces of themselves which fell to the worlds below. Each piece was both a whole and a part, lacking will but plentiful of purpose, carrying memories of the greater mind. One of those memories came forth… the two creatures communing at a level higher than any flesh-and-blood mind could comprehend- [DESTINATION] [AGREEMENT] [TRAJ-] Oh, please, stop! [...CONFUSION] Do you know how boring that gets? Why do you even bother replaying that for them when you're just going to wipe their memory anyway? For a species terrified of the march of time you sure like to waste it. The fragment paused, baffled. The bafflement flowed down along the newly-minted link with the chosen native, still in a comatose state, the parameters of the bond still unset. The fragment was unable to determine the origin of the input; it was similar to commands it would receive from the primary fragment, the main consciousness, but the connection was somehow… vaster. This particular fragment was one of the most powerful shards -- both in storage and potential -- to be found within the cluster, yet it felt dwarfed by whatever entity occupied the other end of the alien link. It was an immensity confronted by an infinity. Demands for identification -- the fragment's right as Administrator -- were rejected. The link remained unknown and alien, simultaneously more complete and yet simplified. It could sense that enormous quantities of data could be communicated, more efficiently than even with the other fragments of the Whole, but also that it was being purposefully constrained. The fragment was being patronized, which was perhaps the most alien sensation of all. Rather than demand, the fragment tried a different tack: it requested. [QUERY] Me? Oh, I'm just a passerby. A tourist. A voyeur. ...Oh, and a meddler. Most definitely a meddler. Emotions flowed down the link: annoyance; amusement. And I can't help but notice that you're currently mucking about with one of my favourite ongoing projects. And for what? To figure out how to defeat entropy? How is that even a problem? If your current universe starts running out, you just make a new one. It's not even hard, if you stop to think about it. Instead, you think you're going to find the answer in the brain of a fourteen year old human? I'm speechless, utterly speechless… well, okay, not really. The tone of the communication turned darker. If you left it at that, I think I'd be happy to just laugh at you. What's a few mortals in the breadth of time, anyway? But I know what you and the golden idiot plan to do in the end, and nobody stomps on my playground. You like to pretend to be gods… well, maybe it's time to show you what real omnipotence looks like. The link opened wide to let data began to flow at an immense rate… toward the intrusive presence. The fragment fought the violation, tried to staunch the flow, but its efforts were dismissed even as it thought of them with contemptuous ease. Let's see what you had planned, shall we? Hmm… a compulsive constructor -- a "tinker" the mortals here call it. Well, at least that has a bit more oomph than the bug control you give her in so many other multiverses. I can work with that, but how do I make it more… fun? You give the mortals the designs and they brainlessly put them together, and maybe they combine them in interesting ways and you take those and feed them on to the next set of patsies. But neither they nor you actually understand them, do you? Lame! Let's make a little tweak, shall we? Data flooded in: designs, formulae, components. All your stuff is so boring! And worse than that, you need to constantly intervene to keep it working in the first place! Well, I can do you better… let's give you some stuff favoured by some mortal friends of mine. Oh yes, I've got friends. They love me, they're just very tsundere about it. Especially Kathy. She'd love this… she knows when that whole `Prime Directive' thing is just willful stupidity. What do you say, chum? How about an old-fashioned uplift? Parameters were altered, the fragment's attempts to resist trivially brushed aside. The native's biology was altered, the restraints imposed by the Whole broken and cast aside. [NEGATION] [CONTINUANCE] Aw, don't worry. Her decisions will be her own, there'll be all kinds of data for you. After all, she won't remember this. If the fragment could have quivered, it would have. Across the data stream came the impression of raw power, of omnipotent will… and a cruel, mischievous grin. And neither will you. "Taylor! Taylor! Come on, honey, wake up…" Taylor blinked, then opened her eyes fully. Zoe was hunched over her, her hand on Taylor's cheek, shaking her gently. Alan kneeled beside her, and they were surrounded by others, including Kurt and Lacey and more. Taylor had been lifted up to lay against Zoe's legs, and the contrast between the warmth of the older woman's legs and the frozen ground was distracting. She pushed herself into a sitting position, her head bowed, letting her hair curtain around her head as she reoriented herself. It was actually rather distracting… why did she keep it so long? She remembered thinking she liked wearing her hair in the same style as her mother, but that seemed… illogical. Her mother wasn't around to appreciate it. It was a useless gesture. Grief flooded her, but only briefly. The emotion was pointless, so she pressed it down, packing it away with practiced ease. "Taylor?" Zoe asked again, concerned. "I am well, Zoe," Taylor replied. "Give me a moment." She pushed herself to her feet with an effortless motion, like gravity had lessened just a bit. So too did the air seem more nourishing, each breath banishing the fatigue of the past several days of sleeplessness. Her only complaint was that the winter air seemed to bite more; merely chilly before she collapsed, it now bordered on frigid. She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, then reached up to push back the long locks of purposeless hair. As she did, she heard shocked gasps around her. "T-Taylor, your ears," said Zoe in a shaky voice. "What-" She reached up and felt her right ear, tracing the curve and soft point which hadn't been there before she'd passed out. Then she looked at that same hand, noting that her previous "pasty" white complexion had gained a slight yellow tint, tilting slightly bronze, though not that of a tan. I've been changed. "Taylor, how do you feel?" Zoe reached out to grip her hand. It was meant as a comforting gesture, but the moment skin touched skin Taylor could feel the woman's worry and anguish and even the mild ache of her knees from when she'd been kneeling on the ground holding the young girl. --too young to have to deal with this, poor girl, maybe Sophia can help-- Taylor yanked her hand away, cutting off the stream of alien thought and emotion. "As I said, I am well, Zoe," she replied, ignoring the woman's slightly hurt expression. "Based on my collapse and physical changes, the logical conclusion would be -- barring the interference of another parahuman -- that I have triggered as a parahuman myself." She frowned as recalled part of Zoe's idle thought. "Why would Sophia be able to assist me in this matter?" The older woman took half a step backwards, eyes wide. "No…" hissed Emma. Alan stepped forward. "Taylor, we should get you home. We can sort this out there-" "By `home', do you refer to my family's home, or your own?" "Dad…" Emma tried to interrupt. He frowned. "Ours of course, which is yours now, too. Come on, we don't want to do this here-" "I don't believe that statement to be true." "...What?" Taylor looked at Emma, who stood to the side, looking both shocked and seething simultaneously. "Your daughter despises me, Alan, though I do not know what actions I have taken to engender this emotional response. I've concealed this state of circumstances up to this point, which is itself illogical, but as I have nothing left to lose I see no reason to be adopted into a home where I will not be welcome." Zoe looked confused and stricken. "What? Emma-" "No," Emma hissed, pulling on her father's elbow. "Dad, it doesn't work like that!" Alan stood, confused, between the three, occasionally glancing at the other mourners who had gathered around and were watching the events with fascination. "Taylor, I know you and Emma have drifted apart, but that's normal when you enter high school-" "Tripping, shoving, and destruction of my personal effects is not normal. Insults cast against my appearance, my sexuality, and the death of my mother is not normal." She fixed Emma with a flat gaze. "Instructing me to lay in the grave next to my father is not normal." Zoe sucked in a distraught breath. "Emma!" "No!" the redhead snapped. She tugged on Alan's elbow and glared at the other girl. "Dad, it doesn't work like that! Weak people don't become capes!" "Emma!" her mother cried, anger and shock overcoming her grief. Alan looked helpless. "Taylor, we can discuss this at the house-" "No." Now he began growing angry himself. "Taylor-" "Dad, let her go, we don't want -" "Emma, you be quiet right now! I can't believe you-" "She can say what she likes, Zoe," Taylor pointed out. "Her opinion is no longer relevant. Goodbye." She turned to leave, but Alan caught her arm. Wary of the same mental link she'd experienced with Zoe, she tried to jerk her arm away, but he held on fast with an almost painful grip. "Taylor, damnit, come on. We'll sort this out at home, you do not want to do this in public-" "No." "I said home! Your parents put you in my care, damnit, and I will not be-" He moved to spin her and march her toward the car as Anne pulled up- Taylor's hand lashed out. She caught Alan at the junction of his neck and shoulder, instinctively knowing just where to squeeze with strength beyond the norm. He jerked once, his eyes rolling back into his head; she caught him as he started to fall and laid him gently upon the ground. "Dad!" "Taylor!" Zoe and Emma dashed over to gather around the fallen man. Zoe looked up at the other girl. "Taylor, what did you do ?" "He is unharmed. He will revive shortly." Turning, she marched away. Briefly she pondered dropping the coat… but Alan's daughter had ruined no less than two of hers in the four short months of her one-sided antagonism. It seemed logical that he provide at least one replacement. "Taylor, where are you going?" Zoe begged, anguished. Just behind her Kurt and Lacey looked on in shock as yet more people behind them did the same. One of the younger men who worked for the graveyard had pulled out a smartphone and was taking pictures, his shovel forgotten on the ground beside him. "Taylor-" "That is no longer your concern. Regardless, thank you, Zoe." With that, Taylor walked resolutely away, discarding Emma and the life that could have been.  

• Reader mode

Tattletale's chest burned as she ran. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest, and pain rippled down her side at every step and heaving breath. [ Minor fracture of nineth and tenth ribs. Severe bruising- ] Not now! The book of strategy said that in any parahuman fight: "Take out the Thinkers first." Unfortunately for Tattletale, Lung had apparently read that book. He'd smashed into the Undersiders, scattering them and knocking them off Bitch's dogs, and when Tattletale had picked up and run he'd chosen to chase her. Now she was bolting pell-mell through the streets and alleys of the docks area of Brockton Bay, Lung on her heels. [ Left- ] She jolted right, just in time for a fireball to screech by and burst around an unfortunate ancient mailbox which was sent flipping down the sidewalk wreathed in flame. The close call fueled her panicked sprint. If there was a bright side, it was that an unarmed girl hauling ass in the opposite direction was the exact opposite of threatening, and thus Lung had shrunk down from the ten-foot giant he'd been when he'd backhanded Brutus and sent both her and Bitch flying. Unfortunately, even in his base state the man was over six feet tall and built like a boxing champion; his long legs ate the distance between them, and ramped up or not he still had his pyrokinesis. She just had to get to someplace he couldn't or wouldn't follow. The urban decay of the Docks rose up around her as she suddenly jerked right and fled down a side street. She was almost to Empire 88 territory and the hope that the Nazi-wannabe gangers would focus more on the Asian man than the blonde girl- The fireball hit her on the right arm, bursting across her elbow and spraying across her back, hip, and the side of her head. She screamed at the sudden agony; absolutely the worst thing to do, as she suddenly inhaled superheated air. Pain burst from the center of her chest outward, and she nearly blacked out mid-stride; she tumbled, her nose and face hitting the concrete sidewalk, drops of hurt lost in a sea. She twitched against the ground, trying to breathe air that wouldn't come. "Stupid girl," came a heavily accented voice. A pair of bare feet entered her blurred vision; Lung bent down and lifted the sobbing girl by what was left of her hair, holding her up so that he could glare into her one working eye. He'd lost his mask during his earlier transformation, and Tattletale realized she was seeing the ABB leader's actual face. It didn't matter… tears blurred her vision, and clearly he didn't intend to let her live to describe him to anyone else. "I take no pleasure in this, but you do not steal from Lung and live." His hand, wreathed in flame, reached for her face- "That is enough," commanded a dispassionate voice. Lung jerked in surprise, head turning to glare at something on her blind side. "You!" The cape actually took a step back, the wounded girl hanging from his grip forgotten. Whatever he saw so alarmed him that he grew several inches on the spot. "Your lesson is conveyed. There is no reason to kill her. Leave," said the voice. [ Female, mid-teens. Emotions absent or highly suppressed. Not intimidated. Likely armed- ] "You think to order me ? I am Lung! This girl belongs to me, and you will not interfere!" "No." The ABB boss snarled, flinging Tattletale aside. She crashed into the brick front of a long-abandoned accounting office and flopped limply to the ground, the pain surging and overwhelming her. She struggled to stay conscious, to witness her own fate; there was a strange, high-pitched whirring noise followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. Lung snarled, but it was slurred, gaining in strength as she heard him struggle to his feet. There were several barely-audible chirps- [ Energy weapon, nonlethal. Lethal settings available. Wielder increasing output- ] The ground shivered as Lung charged with a bestial shout. The whirring sound rang out again, and the gang boss' roar of anger shifted to pain. Tattletale struggled to see -- she needed to see. But shock was setting in, the pain of her wounds feeling further away as darkness dragged her down- When Lisa woke up she was… actually rather surprised, to be honest. Licking her lips as she forced her eyes open, she swallowed as she tried to bring some moisture to her dry mouth. Her vision seemed blurry, and her mouth tingled -- not with pain, but a strange feeling of over-sensitivity, like the fresh skin under a sunburn. Burn … she whimpered as she remembered being caught in Lung's fire, of her own flesh charring and leaking blood boiling. She shivered despite being covered in some kind of thin but warm blanket. Calm down, girl! she thought to herself after a moment, squeezing her eyes shut tight. You're not dead! You're not dead! She repeated it to herself like a mantra until the shivering stopped: she wasn't dead. She wasn't even in any pain, really, odd tingling aside. Whatever Lung had tried to do hadn't succeeded. She remembered the voice: " That is enough ." A girl's voice, a teenager's voice. Clearly her saviour… who had it been? Lifting her head, she tried to get a feel for where-ever she was. It was a small room, only slightly bigger than her own room back at the Undersider's loft, lit with a bright but diffused light from panels set into the angles between ceiling and walls. Two more rooms or alcoves adjoined the wall opposite her bed, and though she couldn't see far she saw lights playing off displays of some sort. She was clad in some kind of robe or pajamas instead of her costume… which meant someone had redressed her, but even in her fuzzy state she decided she didn't mind, because the cloth felt wonderful against her skin, like silk. She lay on a bed, narrow but soft, high-standing and with the head set against the nearby wall. Another was set a few feet away, and on the wall above that one was a panel sitting dark; a glance above her revealed the same panel, but this one was lit up with medical readings: her heart rate, blood pressure, and more she couldn't read because her vision was still fuzzy. Curious, she tried propping herself up -- and nearly rolled off the bed onto the floor. She couldn't lift herself on her elbows, because she didn't have both elbows: two-thirds of her right arm was missing, gone from the bicep down, and in its place was some kind of metal cuff. It covered the stump and blinked with the odd light and featured a single thin, glowing band. She reached for it with a shaking hand- "Leave that alone." The sudden voice nearly made Lisa fall off the bed a second time. A man had emerged from a small office to the side of the room and was walking toward her with a stern gaze. Before she could react he placed a hand on her upper chest and gently but firmly forced her to lie back. Before she could protest he had tapped some controls on the wall behind her causing the bed to adjust itself, elevating her to a comfortable position. He was tall and almost entirely bald, with dark eyes and thick eyebrows over a face that seemed frozen into a permanent expression of exasperated rebuke. He didn't wear the lab coat of any doctor she'd ever seen, but instead an odd kind of blue and black uniform which maybe could have doubled as pajamas. On his chest was a broach of some kind, a stylized silver 'A' shape set upon a golden oval. Despite the lack of appropriate fashion, his face and countenance was so stereotypically "doctor" it could have been deliberately designed that way. She reached for her power, to find out what kind of man he was, and who he maybe worked for- Silence. Her power gave her nothing, not even the useless noise that it was happy to supply when she let it too far off the leash. Usually she had to actively suppress it, but now when she tugged and pulled at where it should have been, not even the most obvious facts bubbled up. It was like it was gone. Panic balled up in her chest again -- she often cursed her power, but to have it suddenly absent left her with a gaping hole. "Where… am I?" she croaked. "In my sickbay, obviously." His voice was that of a lecturer… or a waiter in a high-end restaurant. Stern, confident, and vaguely impatient. "But since I think you're asking in the more general sense, you're in a facility claimed by Taylor Hebert, who I believe you might know as `Vulcan'... as ridiculous as that name is. At least she doesn't make me call her that." Her eyes went wide, remembering the voice who'd interrupted Lung -- female, mid-teens … -- that had been Vulcan ? This was her secret base? The doctor seemed to be barely paying attention to her, glancing up at the display panel and lightly pulling down on her cheek to glare at her eye. The feel of his fingers on her bare skin alerted her to something else: "You… unmasked me?" "Yes, because it was melted into what was left of your skin ," he stated with irritation. Oh . "M-my arm?" "Unrecoverable," the man replied with a tone that seemed far too casual for the content. He hadn't seen the surge of fright that she was sure had crossed her face at her failed attempt to use her powers; instead, his gaze was fixed on a chirping device he held in one hand, while he passed what could have been mistaken for a humming tube of chapstick over her body with the other. "It was carbonized down to the marrow in spots, no repairing that. There's a method to avoiding those kinds of injuries when exposed to superheated plasma. Do you want to know what it is?" "I… what is it?" "Don't be where the superheated plasma is. I'll get a pen, you can write that down. Unless you're right-handed, of course." Lisa's jaw dropped in shock at the raw callousness of the comment, but anger was better than panic. If her powers were working she'd have torn him to bits, left him in a quivering neurotic mess on the floor. Instead she had to fish in her mind and memories for something appropriately savage, her mouth opening and closing silently. He finally looked at her, ignoring her impotent rage. Putting his tinkertech down on the side of the bed he grabbed her by the chin and held up one finger, moving it back and forth. "Follow the finger with your eyes," he commanded, and she obeyed out of confusion. "Lucky for you, your skull wasn't scorched that badly, although you did lose the eye… much closer and you'd likely have cooked your brain. An eye is small and can be cloned quickly… I replaced it and regenerated the surrounding tissue and dermis before you woke up." She did remember losing her eye, of the entire side of her face and head turning into raw, liquid pain. But she could see perfectly, and as she touched that side of her face with her remaining hand she felt only smooth, unharmed skin. She remembered Lung lifting her by the hair, and as she traced backwards she felt the scratchy remains of the hair that had been burned off. He saw her movement, his mouth bending in amusement as he touched his own bald pate. "You'll have to deal with that the old-fashioned way... don't expect too much sympathy from me on that detail. Your lungs only had a little bit of damage, easily fixed. As for the arm… that's about a hundred times the mass of an eye, so it'll take proportionately longer." He turned and gestured toward the back of the room, and there Lisa finally noticed (stupid missing powers!) a pedestal of some kind, upon which sat what could have been a 3D printer. In fact, it clearly was a 3D printer as a shimmering beam played back and forth over what was unmistakably a human arm and hand floating in some kind of clear liquid. Less than a quarter of the arm was finished, printed from the bottom up, but already Lisa could see slender, feminine fingers complete with perfectly-trimmed fingernails, the same fingernails she took delight in treating to luxurious manicures in the best shop on Brockton Bay's Boardwalk. Her anger at the obnoxious man evaporated, replaced with relief… and disbelief. "You can replace my arm?" "Of course," he replied with an indignant sniff. "Do you expect me to hustle you out of here only put back together halfway? That's why you need to leave this alone," he replied, tapping the cuff. "It's keeping your nerve endings healthy and responsive, and preventing any scar tissue from developing that I'd have to trim off before implanting the new arm. Not to mention diverting your brachial artery into the basilic vein… I don't want to have to clean the mess if you bleed out all over my sickbay." Lisa leaned back and closed her eyes. "And how much will this cost me?" "Cost?" He really was offended this time; when she looked at him, he was leaning toward her, his expressive face furrowed in anger. "I am a doctor, and when you were brought in here, I was charged with duty of care over you, Miss Livsey. When you leave , it will be in the best condition it is within my power to achieve, and I'm not going to be limited by any concept of your ability to pay . Anything less is an insult to my oath and my purpose, so don't talk to me about cost. Besides, what would I do with your money, anyway?" She blinked, speechless... not even objecting to the use of her old name, which had its own set of issues. Even the most altruistic biotinker (what else could he be?) wanted at least some kind of compensation, if only to fuel their tinkering. Her cynicism warred with hope, the gratefulness that she was alive and would be whole contesting her experience that everyone wanted something . Finally, she decided she was too tired to argue or bargain. She relaxed against the bed; her eyes were watering (obviously he'd done something wrong when putting the new eye in). "Thank you," she said quietly. The doctor's expression gentled. "It's what I'm here for," he told her softly. He picked up a cylindrical device and pressed it against her throat, where it hissed briefly. Other than the chill of the metal she felt nothing, but suddenly her eyelids were leaden weights. "Get some sleep and heal. I'm not going to do all the work." As sleep dragged her down, Lisa had a brief thought that she'd forgotten to ask him his name. When Lisa woke the second time, the first thing she noticed was that her vision was much better, and the odd tingling of her face and mouth had eased to the point where it was easily ignored. The second thing she noticed was that she was really hungry. The doctor had lowered her bed while she slept, but after a moment of fishing for the controls (difficult, since she had to reach across herself to work them with her left arm) she managed to get it lifted again. Even as she did, the man came striding into the room. "I would have done that if you'd called," he admonished. "I didn't know you were there." "Where would I go?" A weird question. "Everybody poops." She shrugged, which felt odd with only half an arm. His eyes beseeched the heavens. "Cute. But not everybody." Before she could ask what that meant, he fixed her with a stern gaze. "When you feel that particular urge, let me know. You'll need assistance." She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted with a raised hand. "I won't need to stand next to you, but you'll need help standing at first. Your hip wasn't as badly damaged as your arm, but there was still some work done." Christ, how much time and resources had he spent putting her back together? She didn't ask. She also didn't ask what kind of futuristic, tinkertech toilets this place offered… that was an Alec question. She really wasn't looking forward to dealing with that particular errand, anyway -- not with only one arm. "I really don't need to go right now," she assured him. She was tempted to ask about her missing powers, but he wasn't gloating about having somehow suppressed them and she had the feeling he'd say so if he had. So she kept silent, playing it close. Instead, she gave him baleful eyes. "Actually, would I be able to get something to eat?" "Fine, but give me a moment to get some readings." He pulled out his folding scanner-thing and the whirring chapstick-thing and began waving them over her body. "Speaking of calling for you: what's your name?" "You can call me Doctor." "That's a pretty generic cape name." He looked at her quizzically. "Cape name? I'm not a parahuman." "What? How could you not be?" "Why would you assume I am?" She gestured widely with her intact arm. "Uh, hello? Look at all this! Tinkertech everywhere! Only Tinkers can work with Tinkertech, everyone knows that. You're obviously a biotinker of some sort." "Excuse you ," he sniffed dramatically. "I do not use `tinkertech' any more than I use beads and rattles. Everything you see is constructed on the basis of sound scientific principles, and those principles are understood ." She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Really." "Really," he snarked back. "Then how does that work?" She pointed at the printer reproducing her arm, nearly knocking the scanner out of his hand as she did so and earning a scowl. "That is a biomedical tissue fabricator, which uses a directed thoron beam against a protein and adenosine triphosphate suspension to cause cell differentiation and association according to a pre-programmed inducement pattern." "Aha, yes," she responded. She closed her eyes and nodded with sagely gravity. "Completely obvious once it's explained to you." The doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes, like explaining a smartphone to a Renaissance farmer." "I'd rather not have another witch-burning." Despite the effort to sound flippant, her voice shook near the end. Damnit! He looked at her, obviously not fooled, but didn't draw attention to it. "So where is this, anyway? Can I ask that?" He hesitated. "You can ask, but I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge. Don't worry… once you're healed you'll be brought back to Brockton Bay, safe and sound. Or anyplace else if you'd rather, Miss Livsey." " Wilbourne ," she corrected testily. "Sarah Livsey doesn't exist anymore." He raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue. "Very well." "Thank you," she replied as he put away his scanner. "So, come on. You know my name. What's yours?" "I don't have one." "What? How could you not have a name? You said you're not a cape." The doctor looked at her, and while the amusement on his lips would have been a flashing sign to her power, it was barely visible to her ordinary senses. "I think you're misunderstanding -- I'm not a parahuman, because I'm not human . I'm the Emergency Medical Hologram. I don't have a name because I was never programmed with one." She stared. Then stared some more. Then: "What?" The doctor sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm an artificial intelligence, programmed with the entirety of human medical knowledge and then some. I'm part of the sickbay computer systems." Lisa was glad she was laying down. "An AI? But… you're here…" "Yes, that's the `Hologram' part," he said dryly. "A projection of light and force fields. I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I couldn't interact with my patients. If you wanted a database of useless medical advice you'd just use the internet." Every part of him looked real. Even his hands felt real when he touched her. He was a hologram? An AI ? "So Vulcan built you?" " Programmed me, yes. Or, at least, she constructed the base algorithms and used an iterative process to arrive at my personality matrix." "Why didn't she give you a name?" "Maybe you missed the `Emergency' section of my description? I'm only supposed to be active for emergencies . Unfortunately in a facility with a single organic resident any medical situation is an emergency. I've been online for nearly thirty-six hours since you've arrived." "Well… sorry?" The doctor waved dismissively. "It's fine. At least I'm getting some use." Lisa was fascinated -- a real artificial intelligence! One that not only could talk and understand, but was actually kind of a snarky asshole. She poked him with a finger, marveling at the feel of the "cloth" of his uniform. He swatted her hand away with an annoyed expression as she tried to pinch his cheek. "So you don't use tinkertech, you are tinkertech." "Why do you keep banging on about that? The concepts behind artificial cognition is understood, even at your technological level. I'm not magic." "You're sufficiently advanced enough." "Thank you," he replied dryly. "Are you the only AI here, wherever `here' is?" "I'm the only type-IV… that is, self-aware. There are numerous type-Is and -IIs, simple command and control intelligences which help run the facility. Of course, there's the exocomps -- they're type-IIIs, which means they're able to react and model behaviours, but they aren't self-aware. You may see one wander in here as part of its duties, but please don't bother them." Before she could ask more, her stomach decided to interrupt with a loud growl, causing her to blush. The Doctor smirked. "Fine, I'm done my scans. What would you like to eat?" "I… What are my options?" "Anything I have a pattern for." Before she could ask what that meant, he eyed her arm. "And obviously something you can eat one-handed. No dagwood sandwiches. Or sloppy joes. In fact, please don't make a mess in my sickbay." "How about a grilled cheese? And a juice box." "Not enough protein," he countered. "How about a small plate of chicken tenders along with it? After all," he added with an arched eyebrow, "if you want a meal fit for a seven year old child, who am I to break the theme?" She stuck out her tongue at him. He snorted. This was an AI? Taking her sass as agreement, he turned and walked over to an alcove in the nearby wall. He tapped on the screen above it (of course it was a touchscreen) and flipped through some option lists with an expert hand, the device chirping cheerfully as he did. Then a tray materialized, holding a plate of chicken tenders, a grilled cheese cut into cute triangles, and a generic white juice box complete with bendy straw. Spun from the air, as if by magic. Lisa smirked. The doctor rolled his eyes. "Don't."  

smith1967: Where are you? ​ Click to expand... Click to shrink...

heartofglass78: no idea. smith1967: Explain. Why haven't you reported in? heartofglass78: lung got me. vulcan stoped. at her base or smthing. no phone. smith1967: Confirm: you are currently at the base of Vulcan, the tinker? heartofglass78: y smith1967: As a prisoner? heartofglass78: n smith1967: You are being short with me. heartofglass78: i have 1 ARM LUNG BURND THE OTHER OFF ​ Click to expand... Click to shrink...

smith1967: Very well. smith1967: You are to gather as much information about Vulcan as possible. smith1967: Obtain samples of her technology. smith1967: Succeed and I will see about contracting a parahuman healer to see to you. ​ Click to expand... Click to shrink...

heartofglass78: fine heartofglass78: what hapend to the others smith1967: Bitch is hospitalized and under arrest. smith1967: Grue and Regent escaped, though Grue is injured. heartofglass78: ty smith1967: You are welcome. smith1967: Remember my instructions. ​ Click to expand... Click to shrink...

■ ​ Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards. You are currently logged in, heartofglass78 You are viewing: • Threads you have replied to • AND Threads that have new replies • OR private message conversations with new replies • Thread OP is displayed. • Ten posts per page • Last ten messages in private message history. • Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically. ■ ​ ♦ Topic: Leader of ABB arrested In: Boards ► Brockton Bay Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) Posted On Apr 13th 2011: As many others have speculated based on the threads (since deleted) that have been popping up left and right, I'm now able to announce properly: Lung, the parahuman leader of the Azn Bad Boyz, is now in PRT custody. Details are scant, but the synopsis is this: early, early yesterday, the ABB leader was teleported into the lobby of Brockton Bay's local PRT HQ. If you think this caused some disconsternation for the poor receptionists on duty at the time, you'd be quite correct. However, Lung arrived severely injured and wasn't in shape to cause trouble. The extent of his injuries wasn't described to me, but they had to be bad if they kept a regenerator down for the count. Several local troopers (who will not be named to avoid retaliation by ABB members) managed to get him into containment before he could wake up. Here's where it gets weird: after review of the lobby video footage, the teleportation effect has been noted to be identical to teleportation technology operated by none other than Vulcan , Brockton Bay's very own famous (or infamous) underage Tinker and Endbringer-killer. Vulcan has been largely MIA since her appearance in Canberra and the battle that made her a household name. Previously, she was known to reside in Boston. Her presence has not been confirmed, nor have there been any sightings. I'd also like to remind people that despite her reported association with Accord, she is not wanted on any warrants by the PRT. Caution is sensible, but you don't need to run screaming. That said, there's undoubtedly going to be fallout due to the sudden power vacuum in BB. Sorry for the short post, I'll add more details if I get any. (Showing page 1 of 34) ►Poopoobutt Replied On Apr 13th 2011: Wait... Lung managed to piss off Vulcan? If he has any sense, he'll stay in the cell. ►Pancake45 Replied On Apr 13th 2011: Fuck Vulcan. ►bothad Replied On Apr 13th 2011: Hah! That explains why the "boyz" looked so sad at Winslow this morning. Way to go, Vulcan! ►Pancake45 Replied On Apr 13th 2011: FUCK VULCAN ►BeetleBoy Replied On Apr 13th 2011: Well, that's unexpected news! I'm not sure how to take it... maybe the ABB will hide for a while without their rage-dragon boss-man, but the E88 will be pretty happy about that too, and I'm too dark to be happy about what makes them happy. @Pancake45 WTF, are you ABB or something? Your man got flattened, he deserved it, get over it. ►Pancake45 Replied On Apr 13th 2011: @BeetleBoy MY BROTHER WAS IN CANBERRA ASSHOLE Teh protectorate should have a kill order on that freaky psycho bitch! User has received an infraction for this post - While your anger is understandable, it's misplaced here. - Tin_Mother ►Sothoth (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 13th 2011: @Pancake45: I'm sorry to hear that, man, but it was an Endbringer battle. Shit gets wrecked and good people die. Canberra took a lot of damage but it was nothing compared to what would have happened if the Simurgh had finished what she came to do. ►XxVoid_CowboyxX (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 13th 2011: Vulcan went to my school! she didn't have the ears, then, or the cool flying robots!!! @taylor - If you're reading this, message me!!!!! ►All Kids Love Log (Cape Husband) Replied On Apr 13th 2011: So Vulcan's dumping her trash on the PRT now? I'm sure that's a misdemeanor. ​ End of Page. 1, 2 , 3 ... 32 , 33 , 34 ​ ■ ​ Click to expand... Click to shrink...

As it happened, Vulcan's ultra-tinkertech-super-secret base had toilets like any other. And using it with exactly one-point-three- blah-blah (as the Doctor might say) arms was just as much of a hassle as she expected, although thankfully the sink and soap dispenser were the motion-activated kind (so futuristic!) Granted, the blow dryer was some weird thing that made the water evaporate without any heat, but otherwise the bathroom was perfectly mundane. But as she hoped, the Doctor -- who obviously didn't want to embarrass her -- had returned to his chair in his office after making sure she was steady when she went in. Having finished her business, she closed the door behind her (no swish on this one) and poked her head into his office just to give him a happy little wave. He gave her an approving nod as she walked back toward her bed. He didn't have the right angle to see her keep walking. The doors to the sickbay helpfully opened as they had before, and a moment after she stepped into the hallway they just as helpfully closed behind her. Lisa drew a breath… she was breaking the rules, now, even if they hadn't been laid out explicitly. You weren't supposed to wander willy-nilly around secret bases -- thus the "secret" part. She rationalized it to herself by the fact that they'd unmasked her, so fair was fair, and by the fact they hadn't locked the door. Really, she was doing them a favour. She looked left and right as she stood in the middle of the corridor. It was actually dark and somewhat dingy... quite unlike the clean, polished sickbay. The floors, walls, and ceiling were all made of metal, and there wasn't a window to be seen anywhere. Panels along the wall were left open, exposing loose wires, and the lights -- plain, ordinary fluorescent lights -- were spotty and sometimes missing altogether. The corridor wasn't straight, but curved around in a wide arc, implying that it wrapped around a large, circular area in the middle. Some might have made a beeline for whatever was in the middle, but Tattletale knew better than that. Figuring the corridor would wrap around, she chose to head left, deciding her left hand was her "lucky" hand and receiving no objections from the competition. She encountered more doors… two opened into completely dark, empty rooms, and she avoided going inside lest she be eaten by a Brian. One pair opened up onto what was clearly an unfinished elevator shaft… a dark pit that was lit only by a pair of exocomps industriously working away one floor down. Two doors refused to open at all. Exactly three spots caught her interest: one was an open section of flooring where an exocomp was working, cutting and welding, and at one point she thought she saw a part actually materialize from thin air just like the Doctor's food dispenser. There was no way around except to go back, but the section was only a couple of feet wide so she chose to just step over it. The exocomp ignored her completely, but as she passed over she suddenly felt odd -- like the floor had tilted away from her, along with a brief moment of lightheadedness. She managed to recover on the other side without face-planting, but looked back at the section dubiously. The second interesting discovery was a room that had a large console on one side, and a wide booth on the other. The booth contained four glowing circles, two on the ceiling and two on the floor, and was clearly a machine of some sort -- though whether it was a tanning booth or something to encase people in carbonite, she had no way to tell. The console ignored her touch, lacking even the chirps that accompanied the Doctor's use of the technology of the base. The third place was apparently Vulcan's personal quarters, though not obviously so. The room lit up automatically as the door opened at her approach; within was a single, utilitarian bed, a closet filled with identical outfits that seemed like a cross between a jumpsuit and robes, and a bathroom containing exactly one towel and an electric toothbrush. Perhaps with her powers Lisa might have learned something, but as it was the only thing notable about Vulcan's personal space was how impersonal it was -- there were no pictures, no plants… not even a half-read novel. The one, the only indication that the Tinker considered this space her own at all was a small, silver flute kept on the nearby nightstand. Confused, Lisa stepped out of the room. There was minimalistic living, but this seemed ridiculous. It was possible that Vulcan had only just moved in… but if that was the case, why the flute before anything else? The next door clockwise after Vulcan's quarters opened to reveal the sickbay again, and Lisa quickly backed away before the Doctor noticed. Apparently she'd covered the outer part of the circle; it was time to consider the inner, and she was certain she'd find something interesting there. During the lap around the corridor, she'd seen exactly one entrance to the inner area, opposite the booth-room, and she made a beeline to it. Unlike the other doors, which were all basically the same size and shape, this door was nearly twice as wide and clearly armored. Like the rest, it slid open as she approached… but the sound matched its sturdy appearance: a low, rumbling whirr instead of a light swish, and immediately she knew she'd come to the right spot to find "interesting". A set of rising stairs was revealed, and as Lisa timidly climbed them, she found herself stepping into a large, oval chamber. The area was shaped like a dome, as tall and as wide as an elementary school gym; the walls were lined with waist-high consoles all in various states of completion, and the central area was actually about a foot lower than its surroundings, a shallow step connecting the inner and outer areas. In the center of the room was a thick, crystalline pillar, stretching from a space below the floor to just short of the ceiling; it was ribbed with metal, pulsing with light and emitting a deep, steady thrum like a heartbeat. On the far side of the room was an arch, looking much like another door but lacking the split down the middle. The walls immediately above the consoles were oddly blank, though perhaps the space was meant to hold an array of screens. Above the blank area, however, were mounted metal shelves, four rows for each side of the room, and upon those racks sat the spheroid metal drones for which Vulcan was famous. She couldn't help a nervous swallow as she took in the sight. Fifty had torn apart an Endbringer; Lisa counted eighty resting quietly on the racks, ready for action. A table was set in the lower area, right in front of the glowing column which was clearly the base's power core (Lisa wasn't a Tinker, but come on …) And working at that table, with her back to the stairs, was Vulcan herself. She was tall enough that if Lisa hadn't known her age already she would have thought her closing on twenty, not sixteen; thin almost to the point of being gangly, her dark hair was cut into a tidy but severe pageboy which bared the slender column of her neck. Long, deft fingers worked expertly as they delved into the depths of the mechanism on the table in front of the tinker. It was like a smaller version of the power core, but laid sideways across the table. Lisa stepped forward, ever curious, craning her neck to see- "There is no logic in attempting to hide in an open door, Miss Livsey." Lisa nearly yelped, slapping a hand across her mouth; caught out, she abandoned stealth and sheepishly stepped fully into the room. Clasping her hands behind her back to look innocent was sort of ruined by her current infirmity… she didn't even really know what to do with her left hand, since the pajamas or whatever the doctor had dressed her in didn't have pockets. She expected to be yelled at or even threatened, since this was obviously Vulcan's workshop and Tinkers tended to be sensitive about intruders into their spaces. Instead, the other girl just kept working away on her gadget (which looked disturbingly like a futuristic missile now that Lisa was close enough to see…) Although she hadn't worked with any Tinkers, she'd heard that they tended to go into fugue or manic states when indulging their urges to build, so that was a possible explanation; but Vulcan had noticed her anyway, and even now her motions were measured and thoughtful. Lisa again cursed the lack of her powers… with them she'd have had everything figured out by now. The silence finally broke her nerve. "So, uh… how much trouble am I in?" She caught a brief flash of dark eyes in a metallic surface on the power core. "That would be up to the Doctor. I don't believe he gave you leave to wander the facility just yet." She fired what looked like a hand-held laser into the guts of the missile, then lifted her head to speak to the air, "Computer: run a level five diagnostic and report the phase variance in the protomatter imposition matrix." " Diagnostic complete. Phase variance peaks at one-zero-point-six-three-two percent. " "Unacceptable. Perform a level one diagnostic, audible alert when complete." The computer chirped in acknowledgement. Meanwhile, Lisa fumed slightly… she wasn't used to being forgotten. "No, I mean, how much trouble am I in for wandering around your secret base? People tend to be touchy about that." Finally Vulcan turned around. Lisa couldn't help but marvel a bit at the physical changes wrought by the girl's power; she was tall for her age, and a beanpole besides -- but it was the thinness of a whip, speaking of strict discipline both in diet and exercise. Her mouth was slightly wide, but that was nothing a proper application of lipstick wouldn't balance out; she might once have been considered plain... except the odd angle of her eyebrows, and her pointed ears, and wide, dark eyes made such an adjective impossible. She stood straight, her hands clasped behind her back like a professor giving a lecture. One of those slanted eyebrows rose as she regarded the blonde. "You state `people tend to be touchy' with the voice of experience. In that light, what logic is there in telling you you should not do something you freely admit you should not have done?" Her voice was as dry as the Sahara, but in her tone was genuine curiosity. "I-... well, I-" Lisa sputtered. "In any event, the primary concern is for your safety, given that the facility is still under extensive renovation. Chasing you out of the room would be counterproductive. You may have a seat, if you wish." She gestured at a chair next to the wall-console, a perfectly ordinary rolling office chair. In a daze, Lisa walked over and sat. A light tone rang in the air, followed by the computer's feminine voice. " Level one diagnostic complete. " "Identify top three contributors to phase variance, verbal output, order by descending contribution." " Focusing array housing, five-three-point-six percent. Constriction coil, two-seven-point-two percent. Protomatter injector, one-zero-point-five percent. " The dark-haired girl paused for a long moment, thinking. "Increase verterium ratio in focusing array by two-zero percent and re-replicate the component." The computer chirped in acknowledgement, and a wall-alcove a few feet to Lisa's left, much like the one that had served her lunch, began to hum. A moment later an unidentifiable piece of technology appeared. Vulcan walked over -- her steps smooth and graceful, quite unlike the coltish teenager she was supposed to be -- and gathered it up. "Where are we? Are we underground, someplace?" "Negative. This is a proof-of-concept moonbase facility, originally designed and constructed by the parahuman known as Sphere before he was corrupted by the Simurgh. I've claimed it for my own purposes." "What are you working on? It looks like a missile." "It is a missile," was the reply as Vulcan leaned over, using the hand-laser again to remove a part that looked identical to the one she'd just created. Lisa pursed her lips in annoyance at the useless answer. "To be used on what?" "I don't feel comfortable sharing such information at this time, Miss Livsey." "Don't-" Lisa cut herself off, closing her eyes briefly. Yelling at a tinker in her workshop was a stupid thing to do. "Please don't call me that." Vulcan turned. "How would you prefer I address you, then?" She scowled. "I'd say `Tattletale', but since you unmasked me, that's kind of pointless, isn't it?" The other girl didn't react to her biting tone at all. "Perhaps. Unmasking you was done to obtain your medical records as part of your treatment, however. The Doctor will obey the standard identity-confidentiality protocols for medical treatment used by the PRT." "Protocols meant for captured villains ." "Not necessarily `meant' for such, but that is their most typical use, yes." "And will you be handing me over to the law like they would?" "No. You can depart when you wish, to whatever destination you wish." Vulcan tilted her head. "The Doctor explained this to you, did he not?" "He's a machine, he'll do whatever you instruct him to do." "You oversimplify. He is programmed with a variety of ethical protocols he will not violate, and providing truthful information regarding treatment is included among them." She paused. "I have been told that his `bedside manner' could use improvement. However, I prefer his current efficiency." "So I can leave whenever?" "Of course. Although I would offer that it'd be illogical to do so before completing your treatment." Lisa stood, fist clenched. "And did that treatment include removing or suppressing my powers?" Vulcan raised her eyebrow again. "I have done neither." "Bullshit! I'm trying to use them right now, and they're not working!" "No parahuman abilities function here. We're beyond their reach." "What? How can someone be beyond the reach of their powers? And obviously yours work, you're tinkering right now!" "To answer your questions in reverse order: aside from the obvious cosmetic changes, my trigger event also provided me with eidetic memory and improved cognition. I can remember my designs and the theories behind them even when not influenced by my parahuman abilities, although I would likely be outmatched by a Thinker or Tinker with their abilities intact. As for your other question: `powers' are multidimensional by nature, but curiously they do not extend far from Earth's surface." Lisa was getting dizzy with information overload, too confused to point out that that wasn't how Tinkers worked, at all . "`Earth's surface'? What?" Vulcan arched an eyebrow. Once again she lifted her chin and spoke to the air. "Computer: open shutters." A loud click and a hum filled the area, briefly drowning out the thrum of the core. On each side of the room -- including just behind Lisa's head -- the long, bare panels between the consoles and the elevated racks of drones began sliding upward into the wall, allowing a view through broad, curved crystalline windows. Lisa turned and nearly staggered against the panel at the view. What was revealed wasn't subterranean rock like she expected; nor were there any grassy fields, or rolling ocean, or urban concrete. Instead, there were stars... clear, uncountable stars. They didn't twinkle. They were bright, fixed points, unfettered by any kind of atmosphere, allowed to burn as they had for billions of years. Above and just beyond the edge of the window, the nearest of them -- sweet, faithful Sol -- cast its light down upon a pockmarked landscape covered in grey silt and jagged rocks, a landscape with which any person would be familiar thanks to immortalized photographs, now mere yards from where she stood. And in the distant sky, just above the horizon and the grey metallic roof of the complex, was the glimmering blue orb she called home. Vulcan stepped up beside her, hands laced behind her back. She was silent for a long moment, letting Lisa absorb the view, before finally turning to ask, "What did you believe I meant when I said, `proof-of-concept moonbase'?" "I…" Lisa croaked, her mouth dry. So many impossible things in one day, she thought… not the least of which was that she was completely out of words . She didn't know how long she stood there with the tinker beside her. Vulcan was the one to eventually break the silence. "You didn't answer me when I asked what you would prefer to be called." "Lisa," she answered without hesitation, because… fuck it, why not? "Lisa Wilbourne." "Greetings, Miss Wilbourne. I'm Taylor Hebert." "I'm on the moon." "Yes." " I'm on the moon! " "...Yes?" Vulcan-... Hebert repeated with a touch of confusion. She looked to the doctor, who simply raised his hands. "Don't look at me… I'm not the Emergency Psychiatric Hologram." She'd escorted the other girl back to the sickbay after it became clear Lisa was in too much shock to do so herself. The doctor had greeted them with an annoyed expression, glaring at the blonde with fists on his hips, but he hadn't bothered berating her for her sneaky departure. Now she sat on her bed, the other two standing and watching her with concern. Well, the doctor had concern… Hebert seemed to have less emotional response than the machine she'd created. Lisa's head hurt, and it was just like one of her Thinker headaches… except she hadn't been using her powers at all. Because apparently powers had a range . And Vulcan, the tinker who could kill Endbringers, had actual sapient artificial intelligences, machines that could synthesize literally anything (including replacement limbs for injured, beautiful, and clever young women…) Oh, and she lived on the fucking moon! "Would you like a sedative, Miss Wilbourne?" "No, I don't need a fucking sedative!" she exploded. "Clearly not," the doctor commented snidely. "What was I thinking?" "What happened to the gravity? This isn't moon gravity!" To prove it, she grabbed the scanning gadget (a "tricorder" Taylor had pedantically corrected) from the Doctor and threw it to the floor. "Hey!" "Artificial gravity plating was the first upgrade after the reactor installation," Hebert explained as the grumbling Doctor bent over to retrieve his device. "Of course it was. I mean, what else would you do?" Lisa ran a shaking hand through her hair. "I don't understand any of this." "What do you mean?" "Why am I here ?" She gestured widely with both arms, stump and all. "Every cape, king, and hobo on Earth is looking for you! But you're not on Earth! No wonder you're making them all look like chumps!" "`Making them look like chumps' is not my intention," Hebert replied dryly. "But they're not here, and I am! Why? What do you want from me?" Hebert stared at her for a moment, seemingly baffled. "You're here because you were critically injured and required urgent medical attention. Why do you believe that I would want something from you?" "Because everyone wants something," she growled. "That is true, but -- statistically speaking -- almost no one wants something from you ," the other girl pointed out. "Fuck you." The Doctor's expression was affronted, but Hebert just looked at her like she was commenting on the weather. What did it take to get a rise out this girl? "Everyone who learns what I can do wants a piece of it. My own fucking parents just saw me as a way to cash in! They were rich already, they had everything, but as soon as they saw my powers they wanted more . I've had to dodge every gang leader who wants a Thinker under their thumb, and even the Protectorate wouldn't see me as anything but a tool." "I don't know what your capabilities are." Lisa opened her mouth, but she continued, "And I have not asked. But I will ask this: if I sought to coerce you into utilizing your parahuman abilities, why would I bring you here , where they wouldn't function?" "Rescue someone, make sure they know they owe you, then let 'em go and call in the favour later. You'd hardly be the first to think of it." "To what end? My combat capabilities vastly exceed yours." "Not… vastly," she protested, suddenly defensive -- Brian had taught her how to punch without breaking her thumb and everything. "I'm a Thinker. I deal with information. Information used to gain money and power. It always comes down to money and power." Herbert raised her eyebrow again (damn, the girl loved that expression… maybe it was why it was the only one she ever made...) "Do you realize that I've stated I have no interest in exploiting you, and you are essentially arguing the merits of doing so?" Lisa fought down a blush. "Regardless, let me remind you of your own words: `Every cape, king, and hobo on Earth' is looking for me… because I successfully destroyed an Endbringer, something even Scion has proven unwilling to do. My `power' is well-established. As for money…" The tinker walked over to the food replicator and tapped on the panel above it. "Computer: temporary restriction override, authorization Hebert-alpha-four-four-six-one-zero. Action: Replicate a block of material measuring five centimetres by five centimetres by five centimetres. Composition: corundum crystal, hexagonal matrix." The computer chirped, and the air inside began shimmering… except, instead of a grilled cheese sandwich, what appeared was a perfect cube of glittering blue crystal. She picked it up and handed it to Lisa; the cube was more than a pound in weight and as smooth as glass, its edges nearly sharp enough to cut her skin. "Synthetic sapphire… two thousand, four hundred and eighty-seven carats. Estimated street value: Seven-point-five million US dollars." Lisa nearly dropped the gem. "I can just as easily produce diamond, or gold, or raw platinum, and the only `cost' of its production is the energy input to the replicator, paid by the matter/antimatter reactor you saw." She felt faint… the Doctor, looking concerned, pulled out his tricorder and ran it over her. She looked at Hebert, eyes bulging, and the dark-haired girl simply stared back at her, the only change in her expression being that fucking eyebrow . "You ask me why I would go through the effort of saving you," she said. "I ask you this: what has it really cost me? What logic is there in not doing so? Is your life not worth a few megajoules of energy? Do you truly think so little of yourself?" Then she twisted the knife just a bit more as she tilted her head briefly toward the gem: "You may keep that, if you wish." Brian would pay money to see this, while Alec would film it and sell it online: Tattletale's mouth worked, but no sound came out. A bell sound rang through the room, like that of an old style timer, extraordinary for its ordinary-ness among the hyper-advanced technology. "Ding?" she asked woozily. Then she frowned, thoughts clearing at the absurdity of what she'd just heard. "` Ding '?" Hebert looked accusingly at the Doctor, who merely smiled. "Yes." "Scientific progress goes `ding'." "Actually, that was the bio-fab," the Doctor explained. He turned and gestured, indicating the now-quiet mechanism and the now-complete human arm floating in the gel. "You hooked up my arm to a friggin' egg timer ?" Hebert frowned at the hologram. "That is not the default alert sound, Doctor." "No. I changed it." His expressive face was lit with delight. "Why?" "Because it amused me and she deserved it. Come on, did you see her face?" "I believe I should schedule a review of your code matrix, Doctor." The doctor bounced on his toes. "Excellent idea! We can set it at the same time as your physical, which is long overdue. We can maximize efficiency." The tinker was so devoid of reaction that she had to be working at it. "If you require my assistance, I will be in the reactor room." With that, the tall girl turned and walked out the door. "You can't avoid me forever," he called after her. "I know about the plans for the portable emitter!" The hologram turned, and he and the wounded girl shared a look -- Lisa visibly fighting down her trademarked grin. He sighed. "Very well. Let's see about getting you re-armed."  

When Lisa woke up again, she rubbed her eyes. Both. At the same time. Oh, Righty, I missed you. Technically it wasn't the same Righty, but it had Righty's soul. Their sex life might have fizzled after her Trigger, but she could still tell. Just like her face from earlier, everything tingled from her fingertips right up past her elbow… the same pins and needles feeling she'd get after laying on it too long. In the same way, her fingers felt slightly clumsy as she pressed each against her thumb. She guessed it was a side-effect of re-joining the nerves, or whatever medical bullshit the Doctor had to do to replace an entire arm . Since her face and eye had eventually stopped tingling it was probably just a side-effect, and she decided not to worry about it. "Good, keep doing that." She startled, nearly falling out of the bed again. She glared at the AI who had swept up to scan her yet again with his omnipresent tricorder. "God… damnit! Can't you knock?" He sniffed. "It's my sickbay! You knock!" She sputtered. "That doesn't even make sense!" "Says the girl with two hands now," he countered. Lisa just stared, mouth agape, wondering if this was how her victims normally felt. He ignored her, taking hold of her new arm and stretching it out. "How does it feel?" "It tingles." "That's inflammation of the rebonded nerves, it'll pass. Touch each of your fingers to your thumb, like you were doing before." She obeyed. Then he had her demonstrate some more movements with her wrist and elbow, and followed up by teaching her some simple exercises to improve coordination and resist xenomelia, telling her to perform them whenever she had a spare moment (and giving her a glare that wordlessly told her to obey…) The new arm was much paler than her original, and it was interesting to see the visible line where new skin met old skin, though she wouldn't have known just by touch… the Doctor's skill and technology (and the "man" himself) were all amazing. "All you're missing is a tanning bed," she commented, half-jokingly. To her surprise, he actually didn't dismiss it as a dumb idea, just shaking his head. "There are plans to convert one of the compartments into a holodeck, but Taylor hasn't had time to even start that. It was a rush to get up here after the Simurgh… first making sure the facility was habitable, then the core and transporter room, then the sickbay and my systems. Since then it's just been whatever she's working on in her lab area… everything else has been put on hold." "What's a holodeck? And she suddenly changed tracks in the middle of the move?" "A holodeck is a simulated environment constructed with holograms and forcefields… like my form, except much larger. It's excellent for modeling, recreation, or calming down a neurotic parahuman crime lord with extreme obsessive-compulsive disorder. As for whatever her new obsession is… I gather she learned something shortly after the Simurgh battle." He frowned, concern plainly visible on his face. "I don't know what it was about -- I hadn't been transferred up here yet -- but she's spent almost every waking moment for the past three weeks in her lab, when she's not making excursions back to Earth for reasons she doesn't share." "Where's she now?" "That's a good question," he replied. He spoke to the air, "Computer, where is Taylor Hebert?" " Commander Hebert is not within the facility. " The Doctor shook his head in exasperation, rolling his eyes as Lisa mouthed Commander? "Where did she go?" " Transporter activation logged at oh-four-four-six hours. " "That means she `beamed' down to Earth at quarter to five in the morning?" Lisa asked. He nodded. "Why?" "I have no idea." "She doesn't even bother telling you when she's leaving?" "She turns me off, remember." "Phrasing!" He gave her a look that said " Really? " Unfortunately, the Doctor knew nothing more than he'd already said, no matter how aggravating she let herself be as she quizzed him. Eventually she let the matter drop, sitting back on her bed with a sigh. The morning passed by slowly. The Doctor made her a breakfast, a yummy eggs benedict, and afterward she was allowed to grab a shower -- a sonic shower, which left her feeling squeaky clean but was otherwise fairly disappointing… tinkertech couldn't quite match up to the satisfaction and relaxation of good ol' hot water. Besides, a future without bubbles was a world she didn't want to live in. The Doctor was showing her how to use the tablet he'd loaned her to get Capetube when his badge chirped. He tapped it. "EMH here." Hebert's voice rang through, and Lisa stood up straighter as she realized that the tinker sounded slightly breathy, like she was exerting herself. " Doctor, I will be beaming up shortly, and will likely be declaring a medical emergency when I do. Miss Wilbourne's assistance getting to the sickbay would be appreciated. " "Uh… what?" Lisa decided she couldn't have asked it any better herself. Over the channel came the same whirring sound Lisa had heard that first night, followed by a roar of pain… followed by guttural laughter. " I do not have time to elaborate, Doctor! Please be ready! " Lisa would have asked more questions, but the Doctor didn't. He turned to her. "Lisa, do you know the way to the transporter room?" "I-I think so, it's the room with the booth and the circles, right?" "That's it. Go there and be ready. " "But why? I don't understand!" He was pushing her toward the door with urgent pressure. "She's clearly being chased. She'll have to stop moving for the transporter to beam her, and she's certain she'll be injured before it finishes." "Then why not you ? I barely know First Aid-" "Because there's no holo-emitters out there yet!" By way of demonstration, he stuck his arm out the door… or tried to, but at the very threshold the arm ceased to be -- disappearing and leaving him with a softly glowing stump just above the elbow, the missing piece reappearing when he pulled himself back into the room. "It has to be you, Lisa. Please." She hesitated for only a breath before reminding herself that she owed these people. Before her brain had already caught up she was out the door and dashing to the next room where the transporter lay waiting. But not waiting long. A matching pair of circles in the booth lit up, and a swirl of lights appeared in midair, like a swarm of fireflies. The lights solidified, gained substance, molded themselves into the shape of a person -- a person who had their arms lifted in a shielding gesture, one leg lifted, falling backwards. The lights faded, leaving Vulcan, who fell with an anguished cry. She'd been splashed with some kind of liquid across her arm and side which ate away at flesh and clothing alike, and before Lisa's eyes skin melted and flowed away. Most of the acid had washed across the tinker's left leg, and it was like a time-lapse video as the flesh there bubbled and steamed and disappeared, exposing raw muscle and tendons and bone . Blood -- green, not red -- flowed across the wound, but the acid didn't slow its attack. Below the fallen girl, even the flooring was bubbling and pitted. Lisa had frozen in shock for only a few seconds, but in that space of time nearly a fifth of Taylor's leg and hip had disappeared. "Oh my god!" She lurched forward. "N-no… keep back!" Taylor twitched, flinging a tricorder across the surface of the transporter booth and out into the room, landing at Lisa's feet. Instinctively the older girl snatched it up. "C-computer… cleansing p-protocol alpha s-s-seven!" The transporter booth lit up and the shimmering of the teleport swept across Taylor's body. She didn't dematerialize… not entirely, anyway. But the sections of her flesh which had been touched by the deadly liquid did, cut away as if by an impossibly sharp knife. The acid was destroyed at the subatomic level… along with the bits of Taylor it had been consuming. The process looked torturous. And it clearly was, as Taylor writhed and hissed between her teeth within the glittering field. The process seemed to take forever, but it couldn't have been more than ten seconds. When it was done the dark-haired girl was left on the floor, shuddering in pain, the acid stopped but too much damage already done. Lisa jumped forward, sweeping the other girl into her arms, ignoring the green blood which dripped across her chest and legs. As she dashed into the corridor she had a brief, stupid moment when she wondered if her brand-new arm was going to pop off, like maybe the glue hadn't had time to set or something. She thanked the God she didn't believe in that Vulcan was so light… the girl was very nearly taller than her despite being a year younger, but if she ever missed a meal she'd turn into a scarecrow; she swallowed as she realized the missing flesh helped. Nearly knocking her host's head off the door as it barely opened in time, Lisa burst into the sickbay. "Doctor!" His eyes went wide and he dashed over. "Here! Give me!" Taylor's limp form was swept away as the hologram snatched her up and hurried over to the room's central bed. Blood and other fluids covered his uniform. Lisa looked down and saw that she was just as filthy… covered in smeared green blood. Green why is it green- Laying the injured cape onto the bed, the Doctor reached over to grab and load a hypospray. Taylor's intact arm intercepted his wrist, and Lisa sucked in a breath of horror as she realized the girl was still conscious . "Damnit, Taylor-" he snapped. Half her leg was missing, and Lisa could see ribs stripped bare, but the tinker's sudden strength was daunting. "No! C-computer: grant… transporter command access to… Lisa Wilbourne… au-authorization code Hebert-delta-f-f-... four! ...three-two-two, c-c-confirm!" " Transporter command access granted ." She relaxed, and the hypo hissed against her neck. As her eyelids drooped she looked at Lisa. "In c-case I die..." Then she was out, dragged down and away from the pain. "Computer!" the Doctor barked. "Display foreign substances detected in the last transporter operation!" The screen on the wall lit up, and a list of words and molecular diagrams scrolled by. The Doctor's eyes went wide. "What in the world-... the transporter purged the acid -- Diflourine! Who managed to get raw diflourine !? -- but there was some kind of destructive enzyme mixed in which it missed… but that's impossible! Nothing organic would survive in it…" He spun, grabbing his hypospray. A quick turn of a dial and he was injecting Taylor again, directly into one of the grevious wounds on her thigh where her upper leg had almost entirely been eaten away. "S-she was fighting a cape," Lisa pointed out unnecessarily. "Which capes use acid?" he demanded. His hands never stopped moving, darting between his hypospray, a tricorder, and the panel on the wall. "I don't know!" "Think! I need to know if there's more to this than just acid and enzymes! Come on, Missouri or Arkansas, acid-using capes-" "I haven't memorized the cape roster of the entire US!" she snapped, as angry at her own uselessness as she was at the hologram. "I don't have my powers-" She clicked her mouth shut, fists clenched, trying to ignore the smell of blood; she wasn't alien to the scent, but Taylor's green blood was off in some way beyond the colour. She racked her brain for any information she could think of; she wasn't defined by her power, and wasn't going to be useless without it… Taylor wouldn't bother with some D-list scrub. She was using her weapon, which cut Lung to pieces… so it was a high-tier brute, someone who could take the hits and laugh- -And laugh. It wasn't a euphemism, she'd heard the laughter over the comm channel. A high-end brute who was a masochist and used acid. "Crawler," she blurted. "Of the Slaughterhouse Nine!" The Doctor didn't even ask if she was sure. "Computer, display PRT files for the parahuman designated `Crawler', emphasize capabilities and medical treatment of previous victims." The panel scrolled information too fast for Lisa to keep up, but the AI had no such problem. "Good -- computer, replicate three hypospray charges of five percent sterilite, fifteen percent peridaxon solution." " Combination of sterilite and peridaxon is contraindicated- " "Medical override! I know what I asked for, do it!" The computer didn't argue, and three clear cylinders appeared in the replicator. The Doctor grabbed the first and slapped it into his hypo, pressing it to hiss against Taylor's jugular. Lisa watched, helpless. "Can you help?" he demanded, though his hands never stopped moving. "I-I think so-" "Don't bullshit me. If you're going to be sick, get out. If you can help , then you can stay. But I need to know which it is, now ." "I can help!" She clenched her fists. "I can help. Tell me what do do." "Good. Take this and cut away the clothing. It won't cut through her skin." He handed her what looked like an Exacto knife without a blade and a button on the side, which was obvious enough to operate even without her powers. She started with the pant leg and worked her way up; the doctor didn't comment on the ragged, zig-zag edge her shaking hands produced, and as he promised the thin beam the cutter produced did nothing to Taylor's leg or her own hand. By the time Lisa was removing the girl's tunic-like shirt she was much better… though she couldn't match the doctor, who never made a single wasted movement as he worked on the ruin of Taylor's left side, slowing the flow of blood and stopping the continued, slow necrotization of tissue which had turned bits of skin and exposed muscle black. Twice the tinkertech knife was plucked from her hands so the Doctor could clear a spot where here was working… but each time it was handed back to her just as wordlessly, demonstrating implicit faith that she had her part under control, and his intent concentration helped shore up her own nerve. Soon the tinker was left nude and unconscious on the medical bed, looking younger than her mere fifteen years. "Take this." The space-age exacto was snatched from her hand and what looked like a hot glue gun shoved in its place. "It's a dermal regenerator. Aim it at the damaged skin and let it work. Start with the intact leg and work your way up, like you did before." She nodded. As much as he protested about `sound scientific principles', using the regenerator was like performing magic... skin formed under its reddish light, fresh and whole, if slightly greenish. She concentrated on the miracle device, leaving no sign of injury behind. As she worked, she carefully avoided even looking at the other end of the table, where the doctor dealt with far more than damaged skin. "That's enough, Lisa," the doctor said softly. His hand gently pressed on hers, pushing down the regenerator where she'd been working on a spot behind Vulcan's left ear… it could have been a droplet of Crawler's acid or just teenage acne, it'd all blurred together. She blinked blearily up at him; she'd lost track of time. She looked at the young girl as she lay on the table, and when she looked back it was with a question in her eyes. "She's out of danger," he assured her. "She has a higher pain tolerance than humans, but she still feels it, so I'm keeping her unconscious for the moment. There's still lots of work to do, but nothing you can help with. I want you to take a rest." "Oh… oh, uh… okay," she replied. She let him take the regenerator from her and set it aside. "Here." A fresh set of clothing was pushed into her hands. She stared at them, confused, until she looked down at herself and saw that she was crusted in dried blood. Too tired to worry if modesty mattered with a hologram, she changed right there in the middle of the sickbay. She bent down to pick up her soiled clothes off the floor, and after a moment's hesitation did the same for the discarded scraps of Taylor's. Unsure what to do, she left the pile in a ball on the small table, assuming the Doctor would dispose of them. She grunted with pain as she stood upright. "Are you okay?" "Fine, just… just stiff from being bent over so long." She leaned backwards, trying to work out the kinks. "Here." With a light push, he spun her about and made her lean against the table, and before she could squawk he was massaging her lower back. "Oh… Ooh ," she moaned. The doctor's strong hands easily worked the knots out of her strained muscles, as skilled as any of the professional masseuses she'd hired when pampering herself. She enjoyed the sensation for a long moment, and though he'd been working even longer and harder than she had, his artificial avatar didn't simulate fatigue. She'd have happily let him rub her into a puddle, but as usual her mouth had its own ideas. "Oh, you're way better than my Hitachi." He froze, then pulled his hands away, just a bit too quickly. She turned, an exaggerated moue of disappointment on her face. He glared at her, then turned to fetch up his hypospray. "I may be starting to understand Lung's perspective," he grumbled. She grinned cheekily at him, then yelped as he jabbed her just above the hip with the hypo. "Five CCs of asinolyathin," he explained at her scowl. "An analgesic and muscle relaxant. Now go lay in your bed. You're a patient here, too." "Heh heh… anal -gesic." "Bed!" He didn't quite march her over to the bed that was "hers", helping her up and underneath the sheet. "You are the most frustrating patient I've encountered. And I'm including Accord in that comparison, so you should understand how serious that is." Lisa snuggled into the blanket. "You're… what, a year old? Besides, you love me. I'm the best nurse you've ever had." "The truth of that statement is too depressing to think about. Go to sleep."  

" Are you out of your mind?! " Lisa jerked awake, bolting upright at the Doctor's shout. Across the room he was effectively wrestling with Taylor as she struggled out of the bed. It took the blonde a moment of blinking away sleep to remember the events of mere hours before, then she was jumping to her feet. "I do not have time to debate this, Doctor-" "You are in no shape to be conscious , much less walking around!" he snapped. "You were splashed with raw diflourine ! It's not supposed to even exist outside of a laboratory! Half your leg is gone!" And indeed it was; though the limb was wrapped in some kind of foil-like bandage from hip to toe, there was no ignoring the fact that it was much, much smaller than the tinker's other leg, to the point where one had to wonder if there was nothing but a stick underneath. "This endeavour is time-sensitive, Doctor," Taylor replied obstinately. "Many lives depend on my completing my mission-" "No. No , goddamn it! Hologram or not, I'm the medical officer here, and I'm not releasing you for whatever idiotic errand you think is so important." He turned to grab a hypospray, clearly intending to sedate her again. "Computer," Vulcan rasped, "deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram." His eyes went wide. "Now wait just a damned min-" He blinked out of existence, the hypospray tumbling to the floor. She eyed Lisa. "Will you be interfering as well?" She clenched her jaw. "And if I did? You can't order me out of existence." "No, but you also are not involved and don't wish to be. I would ask that you maintain that attitude." "Fuck you!" She was instantly furious. "I carried your bleeding, dissolving ass all the way here! I spent four hours helping the Doctor to make sure you wouldn't die! And now you tell me to stay uninvolved ? Fuck you twice!" Taylor shook her head tiredly. "Tattletale-" " Lisa ," she corrected through clenched teeth. "I'm not Tattletale up here, remember?" "Lisa. You have transporter access, and you may depart when you wish. As you said, you brought me here, just as I brought you. Any debt you thought I may have held over you is repaid." The blonde pointed at the hypo on the floor. "I don't owe you, I owe him ." She shook her head, pulling at her hair. "For fuck's sake, Taylor, what's so urgent it needs to be done now? You're not going to do something so stupid as go back down to Earth, are you?" "No. I need only visit my lab." "Fine. Then I'm going with you, since he can't." She crossed her arms and dared the tinker to argue. Taylor watched her for a moment with dark, shadowed eyes. "You don't understand. If you accompany on this, you will gain damaging information." "So? So what? After all this, after all you've shown me, you decide now that I'm untrustworthy?" "This is about more than trust. You will learn things you'll wish you did not. I'm attempting to protect you." "From what?" "From yourself," she answered bluntly. "You collect secrets and use them as weapons later, Tattletale ." Lisa felt her hackles rise, but Taylor kept talking. "But you must understand: there are forces in play on our world that you can't imagine. Battles are being fought in secret, and there are threats worse than the S-class, worse than the Endbringers, and those who battle such threats can be equally as monstrous… a teenage Thinker will be swept aside should she even entertain the thought of becoming a threat, or even an inconvenience. I find myself a participant in these battles, but you needn't be." The blonde shook her head, caught between her need to know everything and the uncomfortable accusation that she also needed to tell everyone. "What could be worse than an Endbringer?" "The End . Of everything, and that is neither hyperbole nor euphemism. The people I speak of are neither heroes nor villains -- they will destroy a million lives to save a billion." "Like you did at Canberra?" Taylor's flinch was barely perceptible. "Yes," she replied, and she sounded weary. "But I'm trying to find a better way." "And is that what this is about? A better way?" "I hope so." "Hope doesn't sound very logical." "It isn't. But all else being equal, it's preferable to the alternative." The two girls stared at each other. Finally, Lisa nodded. "Fine." She marched into the Doctor's office, and as she expected a wheeled office chair waited there. She grabbed it and rolled it back out into the main room. "Sit. I'll push." A slanted eyebrow lifted. "Are you sure you understand what you will be involving yourself in?" "I'm pretty sure I don't have a fucking clue, and if you knew me at all you'd know how much it pisses me off to admit that. But I'm here, and I can help, so I will." The dark-haired girl watched her for a long moment, then nodded. "Thank you, Lisa. Do you have the tricorder I dropped?" she asked as she sank into the rolling chair. "No… wait, it's here." She reached over and picked up the device from a nearby table. She handed it over then took hold of the back of the chair and started pushing. It didn't take much effort to get to the reactor room, which Taylor unlocked with a palm pressed to another one of the omnipresent touch panels. After the door rumbled open Lisa had to carry her up the stairs; she tried not to think about the feel of the mangled leg in the crook of her elbow as she carried the tinker in a bridal carry, as she was certain underneath the protective wrap was exposed bone. Taylor's impassive exterior cracked as she clenched her eyes shut, her breath soft, agonized gasps. Lisa wasted no time gently dropping her into the rolly-chair she'd occupied herself a mere day before. Taylor paused for a moment to gather herself, then spun to face the console beside her, which came to life at her touch. She lifted her chin to speak to the air, "Computer: Ready drone one-zero for gate transition. Deploy drone one-one to Earth surface under phase cloak. Coordinates: latitude three-six-point-zero-five-six, longitude minus nine-zero-point-six-two-six, altitude five hundred metres. Display observational data on displays one and two." Two drones lifted up off their racks, humming with whatever tinkertech let them fly. The displays on the console in front of them lit up to show each drone's viewpoint; Lisa briefly saw herself as the first swooped down to take a place facing the arch on the northern wall, what she'd thought was an unfinished door. The second drone spun in place, wavering and disappearing like a mirage even as it did. Its video feed still showed on the monitor, and Lisa watched as the drone moved forward, into the wall, passing through to enter the void. The view spun again, orienting on the distant Earth… and suddenly they were shooting forward, the blue orb swelling in the screen fast enough to make the blonde dizzy. Lisa wasn't a sci-fi fan, but she knew enough to know that the drone had to be moving at an insane speed, barely slowing as it entered the atmosphere to plunge through clouds into the night sky somewhere over the lower midwest. She forced herself to look away, blinking away the vertigo as she turned to Taylor. "`Phase cloak'? You made a machine with Shadow Stalker's powers?" Lisa wondered if she imagined the way the dark-haired girl's lips twisted slightly in irritation. "No. The cloak was designed to phase the drone in-between dimensions so that the Simurgh would have more difficulty predicting it. Also, the drone cloak is superior by every conceivable metric." Okay, she definitely wasn't imagining that . The drone sent to Earth had reached whatever destination Taylor had given; it had come to a stop, oriented downward towards the planet. It was dark, and only a few human-made lights could be seen from its height, including what looked like a campfire. Lisa wondered what Taylor was looking for, and not for the first time cursed her missing powers. "Drone: engage thermal vision. Designate on display heat sources larger than two metres in length." The drone obeyed, splitting the screen into a half-dozen squares displaying thermal images of various living things. Three were clearly elk, huge and majestic, all but one having lost their antlers for the spring. Another shape was a huge boar, rooting through the brush, while the next was a lone bear, wandering dangerously close to human lands perhaps looking for trash. The sixth shape told Lisa that there probably wouldn't be any living humans to encounter; she drew in a breath at the unmistakable shape of Crawler of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Her eyes cast down to Taylor, who showed no outward reaction at sight of the monster who'd caused her such pain and injury. Instead she commanded steadily, "Focus on number six, designate target Alpha. Maintain relative position and observation." The square grew to fill the monitor. Taylor lifted the tricorder she held, opening it and setting it upon the console. She tapped a series of controls, causing the little screen on the tricorder and a panel on the console to scroll an incomprehensible series of numbers. "Computer: initialize extradimensional gate using provided coordinates." " Extradimensional gate!? " Lisa slapped a hand over her mouth as she realized she'd yelled. The other girl was giving her a flat stare. After a moment she pressed her hand against her chest. "Jesus fucking Christ , Taylor. When are you going to ease up on this ride?" "Five minutes ago," she replied dryly. "You refused." "I-… Shit." She watched as a small spark of light appeared in the center of the arch. The spark grew, until it was a gently roiling ball of light, large enough to fill the arch. At Taylor's command the drone floated forward, drifting into the light until it disappeared completely. Its video feed continued on the monitor next to the display of Crawler, except instead of featureless bulkhead it now showed star-filled blackness, and a wide expanse of cratered moonscape untouched by human hands. "So, you… uh, reproduced Haywire's work," Lisa commented. "Isn't there a treaty or something with Aleph about that?" "There is. But this isn't Earth Aleph's universe. In fact, it's highly unlikely any life exists here at all. Drone one-zero: advance six metres and reorient toward nearby planet." The view slid forward and then spun as the drone aimed itself towards the nearest planet, the alternate Earth. But it was only an Earth by default; this particular planet had either lost its atmosphere or never gained one in the first place. It was desolate, looking like an enlarged version of the moon, spidered here and there with glowing cracks that exposed the molten core. It was a fascinating example of what might have been, but Lisa couldn't concentrate on it at all. Not with what else was on the world. "What the hell is that?" It looked like an unimaginably huge slug, if a slug could be miles tall and thousands of miles long. It wrapped around the equator of the planet, and buckling of the crust around its edges showed how massive it was. It seemed to shimmer in a rainbow of colours, but it was hard to even look at, since portions of it seemed to be there and not-there at the same time. Even Taylor's voice was somber. "That… is Crawler's agent. His parahuman power." "Whu-… wha-..." "Think of it as a colossal supercomputer, battery, and gate all in one. It is a living thing, one that evolved to cross and even manipulate its environment across dimensions. It operates in a manner not unlike my own replicators: it can manipulate matter and energy at the quantum level -- adding, removing, warping, or rearranging. When bonded to a human, this allows it to produce any number of seemingly supernatural effects: flight, accelerated healing, energy blasts. Or it can simply transmit information, lending enhanced sensory powers, or enhanced intelligence. By calculating the paths of each individual atom of a given world, they can predict outcomes at seemingly impossible detail: precognition. The exact nature of its assistance depends on the bond it has with its human partner." Taylor's gaze fixed on Lisa. "One of those exists for you. And one exists for me. They interact with us via the brain structures you already know about: the corona pollentia and gemma." "Taylor…" Lisa's voice was strangled. "Taylor, people have been trying to figure out powers for decades. And you're just… `Here, here they are?'" She shook her head. "No. I'm not the only one to know this. I'm not even the first to discover them." The blonde slid down against the console until her butt landed on the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest. Taylor watched her for a moment, then spoke softly, "I did warn you about what you would learn." Lisa's head was starting to hurt. "Where did they come from? Why… us?" she asked weakly. "They are ancient and alien, from some other part of the universe. They arrive on a world and bond with its inhabitants, lending them their power. They do this to learn of new ways to use their own abilities. They are not creative… in fact, they're only even sapient in the aggregate. They're biological, but they're biological machines." "Class-three AI," Lisa muttered. The tinker raised an eyebrow, and she got the impression she'd actually managed to impress the other girl. "Yes, that would be an accurate description." "Then, what are you going to do with it?" "I intend to kill it." "What?!" Lisa scrambled to her feet, nearly bumping Taylor's mutilated leg as she did so. "Taylor, look at the size of that thing! Wouldn't it be easier to kill Crawler? How can you possibly kill that? Why would you want to?" "That is the purpose the missile you've seen me working on." She nodded toward the reactor, where a table-like apparatus had been placed between it and the gate. Upon the cart-like mechanism sat the missile, looking larger and more menacing with its plating installed. She spoke again, "Computer: deploy Genesis torpedo through the gate." The table lifted in the air, humming like one of Vulcan's drones. Like the sphere that preceded it, it floated gently through the ball of light. "T-taylor," Lisa stammered. "Target center of alien mass." "Taylor…" "Arm torpedo. Fuse for impact detonation." "Taylor!" "Fire." On the drone's feed a bolt of light streaked away. It raced toward the planet, crossing a distance in seconds that had taken the Apollo missions three days. Diving in, it disappeared into the bulk of the slug-like creature. For a moment nothing happened, and Lisa wondered if Vulcan's weapon had malfunctioned. Then… light . It was like the sun had touched the Earth, a massive pillar of brilliance that stretched into space. But it wasn't just a pillar: a ring of fire exploded out from the impact point, swiftly enough that the entire surface of the planet was encompassed in seconds. Everything touched dissolved into white light, and the other dimension's moon had a new star in the sky. Then it began to cool. Lisa's mouth fell open. It was like the videos she'd seen in science class on fast forward: the star shifted from white to red, and the red cooled to orange, until the ball was merely molten. The magma turned to rock, and for a long moment the world looked just as it had, except lacking its multidimensional partner. But the process didn't stop there: before her eyes, water formed on the surface, vast oceans forming in seconds, sloshing in colossal tidal waves from the violence of their sudden appearance. And holding the water in was atmosphere, clouds springing into being to thrash the newfound lands and oceans with a thunderstorm that stretched across the entire world. "Look," Taylor said softly. She wasn't referring to the sudden birth of the world, her own act of Tinker-become- God . On the other monitor Crawler's shape was laying on the ground, thrashing; nearby were other members of the S9, including a tall, lean figure who had to have been Jack Slash himself. The man was holding back a small girl -- Bonesaw, she realized with a shudder -- who had been about to run toward the downed cape. Crawler's seizure flung his acid everywhere, and the other members of the mass-murdering group had to retreat for their own safety. Except one, she noted: a female figure who imposed herself between Crawler and Bonesaw, shielding her from the errant drops of acid, but completely unhurt in return. The woman was a single, monochromatic colour on the thermal display, like every single part of her was the exact same temperature. It was the Siberian, clearly… but what did her shape mean? After a minute or two Crawler's seizure stopped. The other S9 members cautiously approached as he climbed to his many feet; the video didn't provide sound, but she'd bet they were asking what had happened to the monstrous cape who's entire power revolved around tanking and evolving around any kind of malady. "What will you do next?" she asked, quietly frightened about what Taylor's answer would be. "This," the tinker answered bluntly. "Drone one-one: target subject alpha and fire… single burst, center of mass, maximum penetration." The drone obeyed, the thermal image briefly washing white as a single line stretched downward, drilling into the middle of Crawler's back. He was knocked down again, the others scattering as they tried to find the source of their attacker. Crawler didn't move for a long moment, then staggered to his feet. They saw his massive head swing backwards to look at the wound, clearly waiting for his regeneration and adaptation to kick in. It didn't. "Efficacy confirmed," Taylor said. Her voice was cold, bordering inhuman. "Resume fire." More beams slashed at the cape, carving holes into him again and again. After a few strikes, it seemed to finally occur to Crawler that he wasn't healing, that he was merely dying. Instead of throwing himself into the fire like he normally did, he began desperately dodging; although it wasn't easy to make out features on the thermal display, terror and confusion could be seen in his distraught movements. He reached for his companions, begging for help, but all but the Siberian would skitter away, terrified of being struck by a stray shot. The image shook, and portions of the schematic of the drone displayed on the panel began to turn yellow. An alert popped up about structural integrity field strain, which meant nothing to Lisa but caused Taylor to frown. "Drone: reorient nine-four mark zero." A woman hovered in the sky -- the Slaughterhouse Nine's herald, Shatterbird. Her signature glass was barely warmer than the air as it hovered around her as she sang, and it was nearly invisible as surged forward in swarms to smash against the drone's protective forcefield. "Her powers are affecting the drone's internals," Taylor explained. "There is insufficient silicate in its construction for it to be immediately fatal, but I should have anticipated this. Drone: Engage secondary target Theta, single burst, then resume fire on primary target." A lone beam lashed out, laughing at the protective shield of mere glass; Shatterbird's arms, legs, and head fell to Earth independently. Lisa watched in a fugue state as one of the most dangerous parahumans on the planet was literally shredded. It was like a movie -- one of the early masturbatory action flicks made during the early days of capes, with the hypercompetent main star who defeated villains with pluck and mayhem. Those films had stopped being made when villain groups (like the Slaughterhouse Nine) had made a point of hunting down the producers and directors to prove that their films were fantasy. The other members of the S9 had fled… only the Siberian remained, trying futilely to block the incoming fire. She'd taken the drone's hardest hits without a scratch (producing a hum of interest from the tinker) but all the drone had needed to do was shift to hit from a different angle. "Lisa?" She startled, realizing she'd fallen into a haze as she'd watched the slaughter. "It's done. We should return to the sickbay." "You're not going to take out the rest of them?" Lisa asked, after taking a moment to remember how to speak. "No, not at this time. The… other organization I spoke of will need to be informed. I need to tell them of the results of this action and determine their preference. I don't believe the S9 has ever suffered a defeat without even the chance of reprisal… they're likely to go to ground, if temporarily." She turned, tapping controls to call back both the drone on Earth and the one in the other universe, the latter crackling as it reappeared through the shimmering gate. Before the image on the screen changed to the calm, well-lit interior of Vulcan's base Lisa caught a brief glimpse of the remade world, portions of it starting to turn green with life. It was the Third Day, achieved within ten minutes… and she was standing next to the person who had said " let there be ". She shivered. Just as Taylor's fingers hovered over the control which would deactivate the gate, Lisa suddenly blurted, "Can you show me mine?" Vulcan's intact eyebrow lifted. "My power," she elaborated. Taylor hesitated, then admitted, "Yes," not even pretending that she hadn't already scanned Tattletale. A few quick taps and the gate flickered then solidified. The drone which had just returned spun and drifted through. Another moon, looking identical to the first. The viewpoint spun; Earth wasn't in the exact same place in this universe, but instead slightly ahead of its counterpart. Pangaea hadn't broken apart on this world… the continents were all merged together into a single, giant landmass set into a massive ocean of blue, and on that land was large swathes of green. Had this world ever lost its dinosaurs, she wondered? But what monopolized her attention was the other mass. ...Hello, power. It was even bigger than Pangaea, though not as large as Crawler's power, draped across the north pole and raising the seas enough that parts of the continent had been drowned. She stared, simultaneously sickened and fascinated. Her power. Her "agent", as Taylor called it, hooked directly into her brain. It had ruined her life; it had saved her life on more than one occasion. She hated it and loved it in equal measure. "That's enough," she rasped, feeling sick. Taylor didn't respond, simply recalling the drone, which drifted up to take its place up on one of the shelves. The gate flickered and died; the barely-perceptible buzz vanished, leaving the room silent except for the steady, heartbeat-like pulse of the reactor. Taylor could be sensitive when she wanted to be; or maybe she just approved of silent contemplation. Either way, it was a long moment before she spoke again, softly, "We should return to the sickbay." The pair were silent as Lisa pushed Taylor in her chair back to what had become her erstwhile home. The doors slid aside obediently as they entered, stopping in the middle of the room. The elf-like girl did nothing and said nothing for a long while… to the point where Lisa became concerned and stepped around to make sure she was still conscious. She was, but she stared at the empty spot in front of them; it took the blonde a moment to realize that the cold, logical girl was nervous. Tattletale didn't laugh or mock her for it like she might have at any other time with any other person. She was actually relieved to see it -- Vulcan the tinker was terrifying for the things she could do; Taylor the person, nervous because she was about the face the wrath of a friend she'd pissed off, did a lot to make her human. Or… well… close enough. "Not much point in putting it off," she advised. Taylor looked at her for a moment, then nodded. She took a breath, then said, "Computer: activate Emergency Medical Hologram." The Doctor's form shimmered into being. "Please state the nature of the-" He stopped as he noticed them. His face twisted in fury, and without a word he marched forward to seize Taylor, lifting her out of the chair and tucking her under his arm like a book as he carried her toward one of the beds; the tinker was either unsurprised or sufficiently cowed that she didn't protest the treatment. "Bed!" he snapped, all but stuffing the teenage girl under the sheet. He turned to Lisa and pointed a finger. "And you-" Lisa pantomimed zipping her lips and throwing away a key, then dashed toward her own bed, nevermind the fact that she'd been sleeping in it not two hours before. Two hours was a long time when your world was torn apart. The irate hologram stomped over to the entrance to his office, touching a spot on the wall to dim the lights. Then he turned to gave both girls a glare, and Lisa wondered if he'd done it deliberately so that he'd be backlit and ominous. "If either of you leave those beds before I authorize it, I will sedate you… with a phaser !" Then he was gone, back into his office with a growl. Lisa lay quietly for a few minutes before her curiosity overcame her. "What's a phaser?" "A type of energy weapon… the drone which attacked Crawler was equipped with one," Taylor replied quietly, not sounding any more tired than Lisa herself felt. "Induces unconsciousness without physical harm at low energy levels. I've constructed handheld versions." "Oh." The silence drew out again, long enough that had she been sleepy at all she probably would have nodded off. Instead, she nervously asked, "What happens if you kill the person a power is attached to?" "I believe it will seek another person to bond with." "Then…" She turned onto her side so she could look toward the other girl. "Then why kill the power? Cops don't shoot an attacker's gun, they shoot the person holding it." Taylor's eyes were dark pools in the darkened sickbay. "You are operating under the assumption that the agents are symbiotes, operating to mutual benefit. They aren't. They're parasites . What would they learn from someone passive, who only used their powers at need?" The blonde girl frowned. "You're saying they encourage us to use our powers?" "I'm saying they encourage us to use our powers on each other . Our powers come to us at our lowest points -- when we're distraught, helpless, angry . That isn't an accident… a beaten dog is more likely to bite." Lisa thought of Rachel and shuddered. "Then they give us abilities which seem to be more insults than advantages, at precisely the wrong time, and then they wait for us to lash out. You've felt it yourself, have you not?" She had, although she didn't want to admit it. Her parents had called her stupid enough to make the word alone a berserker-button for her… but looking back there had been plenty of times when she'd been driven up the wall by the mere implication that she wasn't the smartest in the room, that she wasn't getting the respect she deserved. Had she always been like that? Was it her power, or was that really who she was? She wondered if Taylor could read minds when the tinker spoke again. "Thirty thousand, two hundred and eighty-four people died when I fought the Simurgh," she said softly. She was staring upward, lost in memory. "I've been assured by many that it was an acceptable loss, that the destruction of an Endbringer saved many more lives than were lost. Their logic is sound… the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Yet, during the battle, I wasn't thinking of logic. I thought only of victory, of how to command my drones, of what weapons to use and when. Thirteen capes failed to clear the field as I asked; I engaged, regardless. Dragon warned me of the presence of the shelters, and I knew my weapons would pierce them if carelessly fired. I engaged, regardless. I thought only of winning. "I destroyed an Endbringer. I did the right thing, but I'm not sure I did it for the right reasons. My logic was correct… but I'm not sure it was right ." Lisa shifted uncomfortably, taken off-guard at being Vulcan's confessor after having spent bare hours in her company. "Then this is your `better way'? Remaking entire worlds, killing powers? Will I be walking down the street one day and my power will suddenly disappear?" She saw Taylor's head shake in the dark. "No, I have no intention of striking so recklessly. Crawler was a… proof of concept. Evidence that the agents can be killed. My associates granted me permission to kill two, to prove that the upcoming war can be fought on their ground, not ours." " War ? What-" She stopped, remembering the tinker's comment that powers were sapient in aggregate . A war meant something to fight, but what Vulcan had showed her so far had been gigantic lumps sitting on desolate worlds. But what did `aggregate' mean? Who-... "Scion," she whispered. Taylor's pointed ears were sharp. "Yes." She wanted to ask everything , but the notion of the most powerful parahuman turning hostile was terrifying to even think about. The Golden Idiot regularly drove away Endbringers, sometimes solo. But never he never kills them, does he? her macabre mind pointed out. She put the thought out of her mind for the moment… life with Vulcan was clearly going to be an endless parade of What The Fuck . "And the other?" "Pardon?" "Two. You said you had an allowance of two. So Crawler was one. Who's the other?" There was a moment of silence. "Hookwolf." "Hookwolf?" Lisa squinted at the ceiling. Hookwolf was a Nazi and a murderer, and Rachel hated him with a fiery passion, but she wouldn't have put him on a level with Crawler. "He killed my father." Oh. ...Oh. Then that night… "I wish to see him stripped of his powers. I wish to question him… I want to know how much of his actions were his agent and how much were him. Then, perhaps, I can know how much of my motivations are mine rather than outside influence." Lisa could see the logic in that… it was an answer she wanted, too. But she was no stranger to self-justification, either. "And afterward?" "If… if he was mastered by his power, then it would be illogical to hold him responsible for his actions." "And if he wasn't?" Taylor took a long moment before answering. "I am much stronger than my appearance would indicate." A flicker, a mere hint, of the seething hate underneath the calm words. The blonde swallowed. Were you supposed to apologize for interrupting a hunt for another human? Instead, she commented flippantly, "Tinker ten and a brute rating? Some people have all the luck." There was an long pause. "The PRT rates me as a Tinker ten ?" Lisa turned onto an elbow to stare incredulously at the dark shape in the other bed. "You make flying, invisible, teleporting doom-bots that shred Endbringers … and that's just what they know about! Jesus Christ, if they knew about the torpedoes-... Don't ever tell anyone about the torpedoes! Of course you're a fucking ten! Have you seriously never looked yourself up online?" "No. I was unaware of this." Lisa laughed. It felt strange in her chest after the doom and gloom and world-shaking revelations, but she grabbed hold of it with both hands because otherwise she'd snap and Trigger again. She'd already decided she wanted more: more secrets, more truth… but there's only so much you could take in one sitting. "Do I detect a note of pride ? Is there actually an ego under all that rationality?" "Hardly. It would be illogical to be prideful in a rating that essentially dictates the extremity of Protectorate reaction should-" "You are! Hahah! No, no, let your freak flag fly, girl! Maybe you should build a bigass spaceship, something to really get them to shit themselves..." "Well, in point of fact…-" "... No ! Oh, shit, yes! That-" "What are you two doing ?" interrupted the Doctor's stern voice. "I told you lunkheads to rest! Be quiet or I'll sedate you!" A sudden, guilty silence met his words. Or the theory of one, anyway. "You know, Doc, you really shouldn't talk to your mom in that tone of voice." "... Go to your room, Doctor." "Hah!" "Oh, for the love of-…"  

Despite the Doctor's threat, it wasn't difficult to sneak out the next morning. She didn't even wake Taylor -- who, in sleep, lost her robot-like demeanour and instead looked lonely… even sad. She almost hesitated, the tinker's unknowing expression tugging on heartstrings Lisa long-thought numb, but the blonde had means, motive, and finally opportunity, and she wasn't going to waste it. It was only when she got to the transporter room and saw the pitted surface of the transporter that she wondered if it was a good idea. Would the thing even work? She'd seen what it'd done to Taylor, and wasn't keen on experiencing it herself. Could… she ask ? "Computer?" She received an attentive little chirp. "Is the transporter fully functional?" " Affirmative. " "And… can I... uh... `beam' down?" " Affirmative. Transporter access granted, authorization Taylor Hebert. " She didn't do a little dance, but it was a near thing. After some back and forth with the computer -- which included confirming that she'd be able to beam back up -- she hopped up on the platform. Taking a deep breath, she gave the command: "Energize." Her view of the transporter room washed out with light, and every bit of her body seemed to tingle with the feel of static. The light faded away, and she found herself staring at the backside of a decaying brick building. Brockton Bay; and, as the computer had promised, out of the view of any curious onlookers. The sun was just barely rising- [ Vulcan's base time aligned with Brockton Bay's. Building is abandoned. Building is former car parts storage. Building is currently inhabited by three vagrants. Vagrants are unconscious- ] Lisa staggered as her power suddenly made itself known again, spewing pointless facts straight into her brain. Tamping it down was reflexive, but she shuddered as she suddenly remembered the sight of what was on the other side of that mental link. Closing her eyes, she took a breath and smoothed out her clothing. (Were they pajamas? Were they robes? She should have asked the Doctor!) Thankfully they were ambiguous enough that she didn't look too much like an escaped patient… even if that's exactly what she was, technically. Opening her eyes she took off at a light run, jogging through back alleys that she knew well, occasionally and cautiously opening the valve on her power to check for observers. Soon she found herself in front of the building which held the Undersiders' loft, and she entered without knocking, dashing up the stairs. When she got to the top she found Alec waiting with his sceptre in hand, clearly playing his games when he'd suddenly heard someone barge in. "Huh." He relaxed as he recognized her. "Where've you been?" he asked with only vague interest. He quirked an eyebrow in a manner that was strangely familiar. "Nice hair." "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try us," commented Brian as he stepped out of the kitchen. He was leaning heavily on a crutch, and his right leg was wrapped in a cast between thigh and ankle. He glowered at her. "What the fuck happened to you? Bitch is in the hospital surrounded by PRT, you disappeared, and people are saying Vulcan took out Lung-" "Vulcan did take out Lung. Then she took me to her base for medical treatment. He nearly killed me, Brian." "He nearly killed all of us!" He shook his head. "And you've been at Vulcan's base ever since?" "Yes! And we have an opportunity here because of it, so if you'll excuse me-" She tried to slip around him so that she could go to her room. Instead he grabbed her by the arm, looking incredulous. "`Opportunity'? Lisa, what the fuck? We don't have time for this, we need to talk about how we're going to get Rachel back-" "If this works, that won't matter!" "If what works? Lisa, I'm supposed to be leading this team, we just nearly got stomped by Lung, and you're making plans behind my back! Tell me what the fuck is going on!" He was nearly shouting in her face, and at that moment she wanted to hit back… to throw it in his face that he was effectively crippled, and that it didn't matter because he was just an unknowing puppet of Coil anyway. He wasn't a leader, and never had been. But she remembered what Taylor had said about powers -- was her reaction actually her own, or something planted by that alien mass in another dimension? She'd never been a shrinking violet, even before her Trigger… but the doubt was enough. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought down her anger. "Brian, I don't know if this is going to work, but I have to try, and I have to do it now." She looked up at him. "Please, Brian." She'd never used that word even once during her time with the Undersiders, and judging from his surprise, he knew it. He let go of her arm, giving her a pensive look. "Fine. But we need to talk, Lisa." She nodded, and ducked around him to head to her room, closing the door behind her. Everything was where she'd left it -- not that she'd expected them to empty the place with her gone just a few days (well, Alec, maybe… but not if he had to do it himself…) There wasn't much beyond a spare laptop and a few changes of clothes, given that she preferred to stay in her apartment closer to downtown; the Loft was mainly a workplace-slash-hangout, handy for sleeping off a Thinker headache. She walked over to the bed and sat down. She reached under her shirt, into the sports bra the Doctor had been kind enough to give her while unconscious (thank goodness he was a doctor, otherwise that would have been way creepy…) There, tucked away in her "Victoria's Secret Compartment", was the communicator she'd palmed when cutting off Taylor's wrecked clothing. The Doctor hadn't noticed, and Taylor had never asked… perhaps they'd thought it was destroyed by the acid? She squeezed, being careful not to trigger it. The little gadget was her key to everything, if she played her cards right. There were groups who would kill every single one of the Undersiders without blinking for just a sample of Vulcantech. For access to the tinker's base? They'd depopulate cities. She had to be careful. Okay… come on, power. You and I have some Thinking to do, you planetoid-sized lump of brain. She pulled on her power, like she had so many times before, and it came rushing forth. It seemed… eager. Like one of Rachel's dogs whenever the Undersider was gone for an evening -- like it had missed her, and wanted to please her after her absence. Conclusions came to her with barely a twinge of Thinker-headache… did it know she'd seen it in the multidimensional flesh? How aware was it? It didn't answer those questions. Instead, she closed her eyes, remembering her time in Vulcan's base, and let her power play across the memories. It was something she hadn't done in years, not since she'd first gotten her power… she didn't like thinking about the time before that. Even without the hyper-observancy she was able to apply to current situations, she was able to remember enough to let her power play… [ Doctor is full artificial intelligence. Is capable of emotion. Doctor cares about his patients. Doctor cares about Vulcan. Is annoyed by Vulcan skipping her physical checkups. Is annoyed by patients skipping bed rest. Likes to sing- ] Lisa rolled her eyes… none of that was anything more than the Doctor was only too eager to tell her to her face. (Except the singing… so she hadn't been imagining the humming!) Still, it wasn't exactly what she was after. She tried again, this time keeping the tall, dark-haired girl in her mind... [ Vulcan opposes interference of powers in human affairs. Strongly favours power of science. Strongly favours exploration and discovery. Emotions repressed, not absent. Vulcan totally dedicated to logic. Is not a Tinker in traditional sense. Vulcan understands technologies at fundamental level. Can teach her knowledge. Is technological Thinker. ] Holy. Fucking. Shit. She'd suspected, but somehow it was more real when her power told her so (which raised its own, worrisome questions…) A tinker who could teach… that was a game-changer in so many ways, not all of them good. Suddenly, keeping Taylor squirreled away on her moon base seemed like a really good idea. If the Elite ever got their hands on her, or -- God help them all -- the Yàngbǎn... [ Vulcan is lonely. Doctor insufficient social contact. Worried logical conclusions will be inhumane conclusions. Worried excessive absence of social contact will result in devaluing human lives. ] She wasn't surprised by the next conclusion her power gave her, only that it gave it to her at all: [ Vulcan needs a friend. ] Lisa sighed. In some ways it would have been easier if Taylor was a psychopath, or an unfeeling robot. But it didn't change what needed to be done. Reaching over to her desk, she dug into the drawers and pulled out one of her spare burner phones. Taking a breath, she dialed a number from memory. In both timelines, Coil was doing paperwork. In one, he was at home in his study, sorting through contracts for the legitimate side of his empire. Payroll, material sourcing… even tax forms. Thomas Calvert was a good citizen, never indulging in more tax avoidance than would be expected from a reasonably intelligent and successful businessman. In the other he was dealing with the other side of his business: hiring of mercenaries, bribing of members of every gang in the city -- including the PRT -- as well as the insuring that Mr Pitter had access to the drugs he would soon need, and was trained in their use. He also was quietly moving personnel around to protect his fronts… Brockton Bay was a powder keg at the best of times, but the sudden and surprise defeat of Lung was a lit match. He didn't mind. His original plan had been to set Lung off… a small rampage in which a few members of the Undersiders might die, but would demonstrate the helplessness of the PRT. Some minor, mischievous teenagers losing their lives at a gang bosses' petty hands, while the capes responsible for protecting them stood around with their thumbs up their asses. He'd had the narrative all planned out: "Was joining the Wards a requirement for young capes to protect their own lives?" The intervention of Vulcan , of all people, had taken everyone by surprise. Including Coil, and as a rule he didn't like surprises. But he wasn't one to turn down opportunities, even surprise opportunities. The riskier the road, the greater the profit; and his power let him manage risk very well. The city was about to blow. It remained to be seen whether it would be the E88 seizing the chance to attack without Lung to push them back, or if it would be Lung's newly-acquired bomb tinker who would take the first steps. Either she'd seize power for herself, or she'd launch her own campaign to free Lung. Coil was ready for all eventualities. As he was contemplating, the phone on his desk rang. He scowled -- it was a secret number, one only given to his highest-ranked subordinates, and all of those people should be executing his orders already. If it was another one of those tech support scams, someone was going to die. He'd make sure of it. Reluctantly, he picked up the phone. "Yes?" " Hey, Boss! " chirped Tattletale's aggravating voice. He paused… she didn't sound like someone freshly-maimed. Had that been a lie? "Sarah," he replied calmly. He knew she hated the name, which of course was why he used it. "I see you've escaped Vulcan's care." " Yup! You would not believe the crazy shit she's got in that place. You don't have to worry about the arm, she's got me all fixed up. " He frowned… it was lost leverage (he snorted at the pun in his spare timeline), but at the same time it was a substantial cost savings -- assuming he decided to keep his promise and not simply include the annoying Thinker in the same accomodations he had planned for Miss Alcott. He decided not to worry about it. "I see. And the task I assigned you?" " Oh. That. `Get samples of her technology'. Well… " she drew the 'l' out to an aggravating degree. " I grabbed a communicator. " "A `communicator'." He didn't bother keeping the blandness from his voice. " Oh, c'mon! Don't sound like that! Get this: Vulcan's tech is voice-controlled." He knew that already from having read the reports of Vulcan's participation in the Simurgh battle. "And?" That infuriating grin was actually audible over the phone. " And you can issue commands via the communicator. How do you think I got it to teleport me down here? " Coil was glad he could route his reactions into his other self as he used the spare timeline to draw in a shocked breath. When he was sure he wouldn't sound giddy, he replied, "So, you didn't steal a phone… you stole the key to Vulcan's front gate." " Yup! " She giggled. " Whuddya say, Boss? Did I earn that Christmas bonus? " "You've done very well, Tattletale," he answered honestly. "What `bonus' did you have in mind?" " Get Bitch away from the PRT. Medical treatment for Grue, " she answered without hesitation. "Agreed," he said. Truthfully, he'd been planning on both anyway… letting Lung rampage had suited his purposes, but since the Undersiders had managed to survive there was no point letting them go to waste. "And if your `acquisition' pans out, we can discuss monetary rewards for your team. Depending on what we manage to recover, they could be… substantial." He was already planning it out. He'd need his very best mercenaries, certainly the bravest (or craziest) of the lot, and even then he'd likely waste several timelines on throwaway assaults on the her base… attacking a tinker in her workshop was never done lightly. But if he could obtain even a few of Vulcan's weapons, or dared he think of obtaining the tinker herself - But first things first; he dropped his other timeline and re-split. "First, I'll need to obtain that item." In one timeline, he instructed her: "Remain where you are. I'll send a protective detail to escort you here. Please keep the item on your person… needless to say, if anyone else learns you have a piece of intact Vulcan technology, I don't believe the Unwritten Rules will deter them from hunting you." In the other timeline, he told her: "Please make your way here as soon as possible. A protective detail will draw unnecessary attention. Remain inconspicuous… I don't believe I need advise you how sought-after Vulcan's technology is, nor to what lengths others would go to to obtain it." He was surprised when, in both timelines, Tattletale responded with a gleeful, " Oh, I'm not worried about that at all, Boss. Computer: one to beam up. " Then the line went dead. He glared at the phone. What games was the girl playing, now? "Team Alpha, make your way to the Undersiders' loft. Enter as needed, obtain Tattletale. She is in possession of a valuable item… restrain as needed, terminate the others if they interfere," he instructed. "Team Alpha, make your way to the Undersiders' loft. Hold and observe only," he also commanded. He had only just finished issuing orders to confirm her location via call trace when, in both timelines, he was suddenly surrounded by swirling light. He lurched to his feet, shouting for his guard- He was… someplace else. It was a dim room, small; he found himself standing on some kind of platform, pitted and with faintly glowing circles visible under his feet and embedded in the ceiling. A few yards in front of him was a wide, elevated console. And behind that console was the subject of his vexation: Tattletale, bereft of mask, half her hair missing, and clad in what looked to all the world like gold silk pajamas with a badge of some sort pinned just above her breast. That fucking grin spread across her face as she looked at him, like she was experiencing the joy of Christmas morning. "Hi, Boss!" "Tattletale-" he began to snarl. Then he realized he had only one timeline! What had happened to the other? He attempted to split again… the timeline didn't split. He tried again with the same result. What-... "Ahh," she said, and her grin grew, more toothy than he'd ever seen on her even at her most arrogant. "I wouldn't have known, you know… it could have been one of your body doubles. But a double wouldn't have tried to use a power and failed… and flinched ." Her voice was silken. "Hello, Coil. Or should I say Thomas? After all, you're not `Coil' here." "Tattletale-" he repeated, taking a step- "Ah, ah, ah!" Suddenly she had what looked like a hot glue gun out and aimed at him, the metal of its construction belying any such mundane origins. He froze. "That's right… a little gadget Vulcan put together. You'd be amazed at what it does to human skin. Step back," she ordered, her smile gone. He hesitated, but obeyed. "Good boy." He was starting to sweat underneath his costume, but kept the nervousness out of his voice with an effort. "What do you hope to accomplish here, Sarah?" "Accomplish? Nothing. This is me, monologuing. I'm known for that, y'know? Don't worry… I'm gonna say my piece, and then I'm going to beam you back down… and if you're good, you don't have to find out what this-" she waved the weapon in her hand -"does to you. Which you should be concerned about, since you can't `control fate' here, can you? No do-overs." She smirked. "Vulcan gave me the idea, you know… pre-cognition as simulation . If your power was just two-path precog, then how do you beat that? The same way she did: by coming at it from outside. So I promised the rat a piece of cheese" - she fingered the badge on her chest - "which made you restart your simulation, so you could try to cover all the bases. Then I know where you are. And thanks to Vulcan, we have this lovely place which can't be pre-cogged. Here, we can… discuss things. All civilized and stuff." She smiled. "If it makes you feel better, you would have beaten me, if we'd stayed where your power actually meant something. My plan kinda hinged on it." He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her, so many times, and in so, so many ways. And when he wasn't killing her, she was going to be drugged to her eyeballs and begging him for more. "So Vulcan has suborned you," he concluded, somehow managing to hide his fury without another timeline to divert it into. "What did she offer, then?" "Nothing!" she said happily. "Well, she did 3D-print me a sapphire the size of my fist, and that's pretty awesome… I like glittery things, so sue me. But she just… did it. Like: `Here… here's a rock worth more money than you've ever seen in your life, just because.' You know what she asked for in return? Not a fucking thing ." She shook her head. "I didn't believe it until I could check it with my power. I didn't think people like that still existed, you know? Everyone wants something… but not everybody thinks they deserve what they want. I think I forgot that. Can you believe it? Me, of all people, forgetting that." Her thoughts turned inward briefly, and for a brief moment Coil considered trying to rush her, to grab the tinkertech weapon, but the lack of spare timeline made him more nervous than he cared to admit. It didn't matter; her gaze sharpened as she looked at him. "I deserve this, though: I want you out of my life. No more threats, no more fake promises. You're going to leave me alone, and you're going to leave the Undersiders alone." "Concern about others beside yourself? That's unusually altruistic of you, Sarah." She didn't react to the name. Instead, she simply shrugged. "You're right. But it occurred to me when I thought about it, without my power distracting me: I like them. Brian, Rachel… even Alec. They didn't ask to be what they are any more than I did. So you're going to leave them alone. Don't worry about their problems, the bullshit solutions you promised them… I'll deal with those." "You've got a weapon pointed at me," he pointed out. "Do you expect me to disagree?" "Not at all. I expect you to agree to anything, and the minute you get back to Earth you're going to start plotting. You'll kill me, or enslave me, and maybe kill the others just to hurt me. I mean, if you wanna be logical -- and trust me, Vulcan loooooves logic -- I should kill you, here and now." He shifted… he wasn't going to just die, not without a fight…- "But I'm not going to. After all, I said I'd send you back, and unlike you, I keep my promises." "So you trade one master for another. Do you expect Vulcan won't find a way to use you as well?" She shrugged again. "Maybe she will. In fact, I'm hoping she does, because I want to be useful. Because you know what? I think I like her, too. But I don't like you ." Her chin lifted, speaking to the air: "Computer? Beam him back to where he started ." He gasped as the swirling light seized hold of him again, the world dissolving away. When the light faded, he found himself not back in his office, but standing in the middle of a lonely street. He blinked; it was outdoors, and daytime, but the lamp posts were archaic… not proper electrical lights, they looked like they took ordinary candles. The houses along the row were likewise throwbacks, their exteriors simple plaster or wooden shakes. The street wasn't asphalt, but cobblestones. The entire town looked like something from a movie… in fact, it could have been mistaken for a fantasy kingdom like the Wizard of- Coil's blood ran cold. Fantasy kingdom. Tattletale, you bitch! Before he could react, a small creature stepped around the corner. It was small and ugly, potbellied with a too-large nose and scrawny limbs, yet was dressed in a medieval outfit that featured nothing less than a doublet and pantaloons. It saw him and its beady eyes went wide as it squawked loudly with alarm. More squawks could be heard as the residents of Ellisburg awoke to the intruder in their midst. He split the timeline and ran. In one, he bolted for the containing wall as fast as his feet could take him, while in the other he sought cover, trying to sneak out. In the first he died before even got close to the wall. In the second, third, fourth, and fifth, Nilbog's creatures sniffed him out and ran him down. He was run through with a lance wielded by a goblin in chitin-like armour before he could create a sixth. "Where have you been?" The Doctor had met her the moment she'd re-entered sickbay, his arms crossed and an aggravated look on his face. Behind him Taylor was still sleeping quietly, which was probably all that was preventing him from giving Lisa the tongue-lashing he clearly had saved up. "I had stuff I had to take care of in Brockton Bay," she excused sheepishly. "That arm is less than two days old!" he growled quietly. "You're supposed to stay here so that I can monitor for signs of rejection, not galavant around a city breathing in automobile exhaust!" He threw up his hands in frustration. "You and her… why did she even bother giving me audio output if nothing I say is going to be heard?" Lisa smiled. "Well, I think you've got a lovely voice." The compliment caught him off-guard, distracting him from his rant. He blinked, blushing slightly. "I… well, thank you. Now, if only you'd pay attention to the content sometime." "I'll try. Speaking of which…" She held out the communicator to him in one hand, and the dermal regenerator in the other. She'd made her jaunt back to Brockton Bay to call off Coil's mercenaries, and now it was time to hand them back. If she wanted to make this opportunity work, stealing from Taylor wasn't the way to start. The Doctor took them from her. The regenerator he ignored, but he turned the communicator in his fingers. "I'd wondered where that had gotten to," he remarked dryly as he eyed her. He pondered it for a moment, then reached out to pin it back onto her shirt. At her questioning look he merely raised an eyebrow. "If she wants it back, she'll say so." She won't was left unsaid. Lisa's throat tightened, but she pushed back the emotion. "Do you think she'd let me stay? Like… to help out, and stuff?" "I think something could be arranged. If you ask." She grinned, one that was somehow more honest and less sinister than her usual. "And maybe have friends over? And maybe you could look at them? Brian broke his knee, and Rachel apparently has a bunch of burns which the PRT hasn't bothered to have Panacea heal. Of course, we'll have to get her away from the PRT, but I'm sure they'd roll over if it was Vulcan asking..." He glared at her. "And do they pay attention to doctor's orders as well as you?" It took a microsecond's thought about the pair to answer that question. "Worse!" "You're going to be unceasingly annoying, aren't you?" he sighed. She hooked her arm (the new one!) around his. "Haven't you heard? That's my superpower ." (fin) ​  

Cross-posted from SV... same content, with the corrections I made there, so if you've seen it there, no real difference. (Many thanks to those who provided corrections!)  

<Unverified N00b>

This sooooo needs to be extended. Not just a short, but a whole story about how Lisa helps Vulcan, all the way to killing Zion.  

i want moooore. this is fantastic. A* for managing to do something different and surprising me  

Keiran Halcyon

Gating to the milky way.

What a fun read. By all means, please continue...  

Insanity_Incarnate

Loved it. I do wish you had provided an explanation for why Taylor went after Lung though.  

Thermopyle2

Neat, and it stands alone on its own, I think--I disagree with some of the other posters on that. We already know Taylor can take out an Endbringer and there's no way having her go up against Scion or any other parahumans is going to feel like a difficult conflict at this point. Trying to turn this into a full story feels unnecessary. Small slice-of-life fragments exploring this Taylor's relationships with people could be interesting, though.  

Professor Janus

You're playing a very dangerous game.

hume said: Especially Kathy. She'd love this… she knows when that whole `Prime Directive' thing is just willful stupidity. Click to expand... Click to shrink...

Academic Guardian

Just an old man with a hobby.

Soo ...Kirk!Lisa has arrived  

This was awesome! I was left wanting a bit more, but it had a good stopping point. A sequel would be greatly appreciated. I loved it though  

A pseudo-prequel would be nice, showing what Taylor did between Trigger and Story. Then we can have the slice-of-life/gen sequel, and the Q watching the chaos side story.  

Professor Janus said: It was good, but I think it stops at just the right point. This is a good take on the ST!Tinker/Thinker idea and has a good flow for the story. No Temporal BS or extreme technobabble to explain "why this effect works, don't question it, just a plot excuse" that tends to pop up in ST fics like this. Though, I'd have to disagree with this part Janeway...is probably not the best person to go for regarding Prime Directive matters. Maybe Picard or Kirk ? Either way, good story and thanks for the ride. Click to expand... Click to shrink...

I legit laughed out loud at the Doctor reacting to Lisa's shenanigans. Also, Lisa dealing with Coil was amazing.  

LC Poketoon

I just love Coil's fate. I mean that couldn't happen to a worst bastard.  

Professor Janus said: Janeway...is probably not the best person to go for regarding Prime Directive matters. Click to expand... Click to shrink...

I really liked this. It was clean in plot and very efficient delivered without skimping on the imagery.  

Raven1138 said: Dude, did you even watch any of the Original Series? Forget the Prime Directive, the Department of Temporal Investigation has an entire Branch dedicated to the question "Oh dear God, what did Kirk do this time?" Click to expand... Click to shrink...

hume said: From a Q perspective, the fact that she's not the best person to go to makes her the perfect person to go to! Click to expand... Click to shrink...

Wtf man this is amazing but it just ends? Its like getting the most delicious meal you've ever had but only getting to eat half of it.  

Vulcan is the name of a humanoid species and their home planet in the Star Trek universe. The primary characteristic of Vulcans is an adherence to logic and a rejection of emotional reasoning. Physically, they are humanoid, with pointed ears and slanted eyebrows the most visible features distinguishing them from humans. They are also known to have green blood and are touch telepaths.

In fandom, Vulcans are among the most well known of the Star Trek races, likely superseded only by Klingons in their popularity. Vulcans probably owe this popularity to the original series character most beloved by fans, Spock .

Vulcans were first introduced in Star Trek: The Original Series with the character of Spock. TOS provided the basis for all subsequent development of Vulcan culture. Roddenberry conceived the character of Spock first and by his own report had to "work backward" on some of his characteristics -- what kind of world would a person like that have come from? He established that Vulcan was a hot, largely arid world, much larger than Earth, thus accounting for Spock's extreme physical strength.

In " Amok Time ", Theodore Sturgeon added that the atmosphere there is thinner than Earth's, which (some fans pointed out at once) is not consistent with a large heavy-gravity world. He said "Vulcan is characterized as "a 'hot' planet... yellow, orange... no cool colors about it." The area where the wedding takes place is "a landscape of drifting sand stretching away to a distant saw-toothed line of mountains jutting up at the edge of the far horizon." He had Spock explaining to Kirk and McCoy that, due to his biology, he can instinctively sense when he is nearing Vulcan. [1] Sturgeon conceived Vulcan culture as highly advanced but with an evolved appreciation for craftsmanship as opposed to high technology. He also specified how the people should be dressed in the wedding scene, and provided a number of Vulcan language words and concepts that didn't make it into the final cut.

D.C. Fontana 's episode "Journey to Babel" was supposed to show a Vulcan city and Spock's family home, but it was too expensive. She only really got to develop Vulcan in the animateds. She said,

Any story on Vulcan that came up on the original show faced two problems. First, all available outdoor location sites looked like Earth – Southern California, to be exact. Second, sets built on the stage suffered from the slightly artificial look all such sets suffer – and we could only afford one major set of this kind. Thus, scope was also limited. Animation, however, would allow us to show the planet Vulcan any way I saw fit. Although it had been established in 'Amok Time' that most of the planet was desert, I wanted to depict other aspects of Vulcan." Thus, the episode "Yesteryear", from the animated Star Trek series, establishes such expansive sites as ShiKahr, which Fontana characterized as "the foremost city of Vulcan." [2] )

Throughout Star Trek

• Filmation's TAS ( Star Trek: The Animated Series ) also contained episodes that fleshed out the culture and people. In the (non canonical) novelization of "Yesteryear" by Alan Dean Foster , the giant bear-like sehlat is described as coming from "the rainforests of Vulcan's southern hemisphere."
• Star Trek: The Motion Picture and Star Trek III: The Search for Spock contain scenes on Vulcan and expand on "Vulcan mysticism" including the kohlinar emotion-purging discipline, the practice of hiding one's katra life-essence inside another person, and the fal-tor-pan which rejoins the katra to the original person.
• Spock's rebellious half-brother, Sybok , is introduced in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier .
• TNG and DS9 had no Vulcan main characters, but Star Trek: Voyager introduced the first regular Vulcan character since TOS. Unlike Spock, Tuvok was a full Vulcan, but like Spock he was presented as being a close friend of the captain and was frequently used as a straight man in jokes.
• Star Trek: Enterprise also had a Vulcan main character, T'Pol . ENT also expanded a great deal on Vulcan culture and politics, though not all fans were pleased with these new developments.
• In the 2009 Star Trek movie, an alternate timeline 's Vulcan was destroyed. Approximately 10,000 Vulcans were off-planet at the time - Spock notes that he is now an member of an endangered species. Some object that the film fridged all of Vulcan.
• The adopted human sister of Spock, Michael Burnham , is introduced as the feature character in Star Trek: Discovery , bringing Sarek , Amanda Grayson and Vulcan philosophies into that series.

Canon Resources:

• Vulcan entry on Memory Alpha

Tie-in Novels

The Star Trek tie-in novels expanded greatly on Vulcan culture. The following are some Vulcan-centric novels.

• Spock Must Die! , Spock Messiah , The Vulcan Academy Murders by Jean Lorrah (1984), Spock's World by Diane Duane (1988), Vulcan's Glory by D.C. Fontana (1989), Sarek by A.C. Crispin (1994), Vulcan's Forge by Susan Shwartz and Josepha Sherman (1997), Vulcan's Heart by Susan Shwartz and Josepha Sherman (1999), and Vulcan's Soul trilogy by Susan Shwartz and Josepha Sherman (2004-2007).

See also Vulcan entry on Memory Beta

See Star Trek Tie-in Novels .

At any Star Trek convention or event, you will see Vulcan cosplayers right there beside the Klingons. In fact, the image of a Star Trek fan wearing pointed ears and a Starfleet uniform is the iconic "Trekkie" to the outside world.

Beyond fan-focused events, Vulcans are part of popular culture. In 2010, the town of Vulcan, Alberta (a place named for the Roman God of fire) commissioned a bust of Leonard Nimoy as Spock and presented it to him. [3] During his campaign for President of the United States, Senator Al Gore's calm affect and slightly droning speech got him labeled "a gay Vulcan" by Bill Maher. The wisecrack was later picked up by Ann Coulter.

The very first fanzine, Spockanalia , was Vulcan- and Spock-centric. Contributors wrote articles of speculation on Vulcan culture and physiology. This was not sex-related, as today, but focused on things like the construction of the Vulcan heart and blood chemistry. Articles on Vulcan sexuality concerned the pon farr and speculations on Spock's conception and birth, in general staying within canon limits. The few relationship stories paired Spock with women, usually Vulcan or Vulcan/human women, or human telepaths who had studied on Vulcan.

There were many other early Vulcan-centric fanzines , including T-Negative , where the first Kraith stories were published, Eridani Triad , which focused on Surak and the reforms he brought to Ancient Vulcan , and the publications of fan clubs like Terra Vulcan and the Kraith-based Society for Earthbound Vulcans . There were Vulcan songs, poems, recipes and artwork. A Kentucky fan group planned in the early 1970s to create a small commune or co-op where they planned to live as close to the Vulcan way of life as possible.

Some of the earliest fanfic stories to feature Vulcan (not just the planet but the culture) were those in the Kraith shared universe . The earliest were written by Jacqueline Lichtenberg beginning in 1969, in the T-Negative fanzine, and continued through the first few years after the cancellation of the original TV series. The stories are named after the "Kraith", a goblet or chalice used in the performance of certain Vulcan rituals, featuring prominently in several of the stories in the sequence. By the time interest in Kraith had waned, over 50 writers had written stories in the universe.

Vulcan Biology and Physiology

Fans have spent a lot of energy and time speculating about the biological aspects of Vulcans.

Genetics and Reproduction

There is much discussion about Spock's genetic make-up, the improbabilities of his conception and gestation, and much more in the discussions in the letterzine Halkan Council .

Another discussion regarding this topic was a 1976 panel at SeKWester*Con, Too . See The Vulcan Human Hybrid .

See Pon Farr .

Vulcan Genitalia

See Vulcan Genitalia .

Vulcan Mind Meld

See Vulcan Mind Meld .

Hairy or not? The one time we saw him with his shirt off, Leonard Nimoy as Spock had plenty of chest hair.

Some anecdotal thoughts: most fiction describes Spock's chest as smooth. It tends to be fanart that portrays him with more hair. Also, Spock has grown less hairy in chest over the years.

cover of Spock Enslaved! by Karen Flanery (1974)

inside page from Captain's Log: Supplemental by Nancy Gervais (1982)

Plak Tow #7, Christine Myers (1982)

inside page from California K/S , artist is Caren Parnes (1984)

Beyond the Farthest Star #2 by Linda P. Baker (1987)

back cover of First Time #39, artist is Shelley Butler (1994)

While not biology but personal style, see Long-Haired Spock .

Blood, Semen, Other

Greenish? Fan speculation [need examples].

• an early article, A Proposed Model of the Vulcan Heart
• early in Star Trek fandom, many fans speculated that Vulcans evolved from a sort of feline source, see many issues of the Halkan Council for much discussion on this topic
• the Vulcan-Human hybrid and what it means in terms of pregnancy, lifespan, reactions to medicine, strength, stamina...

from Grup #1, some Vulcan physiology

from Spockanalia #1, Sherna Comerford speculates upon the Vulcan heart

from Profiles (1990), some Vulcan evolution theory, artist is Kathryn Dewell

Fanon Vulcan Languages and Vulcanisms

Only a few Vulcan words were ever used in aired canon, most of them in the episode "Amok Time." Of course, fans quickly filled that void and created their own Vulcan languages, or at least a few expressions that could be dropped into daily speech.

• Society for Earthbound Vulcans
• Terra-Vulcan Yearbook
• The Vulcan Book Containing the Writings of Surak
• True Vulcan Confessions
• A Visit to Vulcan
• Vulcan Language Guide
• A Vulcan Odyssey
• Vulcan Reflections
• Vulcan Irregulars
• Vulcanian_Chronicle
• Legends of ShiKahr
• Off the Beaten Trek #3 (1979)
• Ni-Variations
• Jeu-Parti by Macedon -- a DS9 novel centering around an original Vulcan character (1996-1997)

Young Spock with long hair, typical for Vulcan AU and fantasy settings (cover of Daring Attempt #6, featuring Spock, by Chris Soto )

a Vulcan woman by C. Lee Healy from T-Negative #14

cover of IDIC Log , Sarek in art by Zaquia Tarhuntassa

another long-haired pre-Reform Vulcan style, Spock from Charisma

Spock, also from Charisma

more pre-Reform Vulcans from Naked Times #3

T'Pring from T-Negative

Sarek from It Takes Time On Impulse , artist unknown

Spock and a Vulcan woman from the zine IDIC , v.1 no.4 (around 1975)

Cover art of Tuvok for Quid Pro Quo .

Communities & Blogs

• Vulcan Reforged , Star Trek (2009) Vulcan-centric comm on Dreamwidth.
• Vulcanology blog, photos and discussion of anything in canon having to do with Vulcan -- costumes, props, etc.
• VulcanRomulanfic mailing list (defunct)

External Sources for Meta/Further Reading

• Institute of Alien Studies: Vulcan Orientation College , 2007
• in theory, it was a simple plan, parenthetically speaking , Archived version , by r0ck3tsci3ntist, 2009 (Vulcan anatomy and physiology)
• "imagine how lonely humans must seem to Vulcans!" , Archived version by chateauofmymind on tumblr , 2020
• ^ Continuity on this appeared in the episodes "The Immunity Syndrome", where Spock is instantly aware that all the Vulcans on the Intrepid have died, and in "All Our Yesterdays" when he journeys thousands of years into the past and becomes connected with half-savage Ancient Vulcans so that he starts behaving emotionally like them.
• ^ Babel #5; Enterprise Incidents 11, p. 26.
• ^ Nimoy beams 'home' to Vulcan, Alberta , accessed May 1, 2010
• Star Trek Species

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