Firefight

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Those are also memories from another time,” Prof said, not turning to me. “And ones I’d rather not revisit.”

  “Because of Regalia?”

  “Because I thought the world could be a different place back then,” Prof said, stirring a solution. “A place of heroes.”

  “Maybe it still can be that place. Maybe we’re wrong about what is causing the darkness, or maybe there’s a way to resist it. Everyone’s been wrong about the Epic weaknesses, after all. Maybe we don’t understand all of this as well as we think.”

  Instead of replying, Prof set down his beaker. He turned toward me. “And you’re not afraid of what would happen if we fail?”

  “I’m willing to risk it, Prof.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Can I trust you, David Charleston?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Where had that question come from? It didn’t seem to follow our conversation.

  He studied me, then nodded. “Good. I’ve changed my mind. Tell Tia I’ll head into the city as soon as you leave; she can tell Val and Exel that the emergency with the other Reckoner team got solved quickly, and I came back early.”

  “All right.” Prof had a motorboat from a hidden Reckoner dock. He could get back to the city on his own easily. “But what was that about trusting—”

  “Go finish loading those boxes, son.” He turned around and began packing up his things.

  I sighed, but put the picture down and climbed up, closing the trapdoor, leaving him in the hidden chamber. I grabbed a box of supplies, then almost ran headfirst into Val as I left.

  “David?” she said. “What were you doing in there?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Had to catch a breather.”

  “But—”

  “You left the sub?” I asked.

  “I—”

  I hurried past her. Sparks! What if some scavenger found it and decided to take it on a joyride? Fortunately, it was still there, sitting in the calm black waters.

  Val and I got the boxes loaded quickly, with minimal conversation. I tried to bring Val out again with some questions, but she didn’t say much. Even during our ride back in the sub she was mostly quiet. She knew I was hiding something. Well, I didn’t blame her for feeling annoyed at that—I felt the same way about the entire situation, honestly.

  At the base, we docked and climbed out into the dark room. The docking mechanism was completely airtight, fitted exactly to the submarine. Quite ingenious. They still left the room dark though, in case of a leak. Even outside of Regalia’s range the Reckoners were careful. It was one of the things I liked about them.

  I found the guide ropes in the darkness and grabbed two pairs of night-vision goggles off the rack on the wall. I handed one down to Val, then put on the other pair. Together we began unloading the boxes. Eventually I grabbed one and hefted it onto my shoulder, then left the darkened docking room and hauled the box toward the storage room down the hallway.

  The bright Reckoner base—with its plush couches and dark woods—was an enormous contrast to the desolate landscapes I’d spent the day visiting. It was almost like being in a different world. I carried the box to the storage room and set it down. Behind me I could hear voices from the radio drifting out of Exel’s room. He was pulling extra hours on recon duty, listening to broadcasts, double—and triple—checking Newton’s routes.

  There were more boxes to unload, but I figured I should pass on Prof’s message first. I walked down the hallway and rapped on Tia’s door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  On the walls she’d plastered maps of Babilar that showed Newton’s routes. In the center of the city, several pins noted where Tia thought Regalia might be hiding. There were still too many buildings to search effectively without giving away what we were doing, but we were close.

  A dozen or so empty cola pouches lay in the corner of the room, and Tia looked bad. A few stray strands of hair had escaped her bun and stuck out, like frizzy ginger lightning bolts. She had bags under her eyes and her normally pristine business suit hadn’t been pressed in days.

  “He was there,” I said.

  She glanced up at me. “What did he say?”

  “He says he’ll come back tonight. We’ll probably need to send the sub back to the city to pick him up. He seems like he’s mostly recovered.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

  “Val’s suspicious,” I said. “You should tell her what’s really going on.”

  “I wish I knew what was really going on,” Tia grumbled.

  “What—”

  “I don’t mean with Jon,” Tia said. “Ignore me. I was just venting. Here, I want to show you something.”

  Tia stood up and walked to the wall, tapping on a section of it. We’d set up the imager in here to turn the wall into a smart screen, like Prof preferred to use as he worked. Tia’s tap brought up an image of Knoxx, the Epic in Newton’s crew I’d spotted the other day. The wall played the video of him transforming into a bird and flying away. My jerking of the scope followed, tracking the bird poorly until I found it on the other building. The transformation happened again. Tia stopped the screen on the figure and zoomed in on his face. The close-up was grainy, but he was still recognizable.

  “What would you say about what you just saw?”

  “At least class C self-transmutation abilities,” I said. “He was able to change his mass as well as retain his original thought process after transforming; either alone would elevate the transmutation from class D. I’d have to know if he can take other shapes, and whether there are limits like how often he can change, before I can say more.”

  “This man,” Tia said, “has been part of Newton’s gang for years. Exel confirmed it with several points of evidence. There is no evidence before this moment that Knoxx had any powers. This means that somehow, Newton or Regalia convinced him to hide his abilities for years. I’m worried, David. If she can hide Epics in plain sight, and can prevent them from displaying their powers, our intel in this city—despite our long investment of time—might be worthless.”

  I frowned, stepping up to the image and taking a closer look. “What if he wasn’t hiding his powers?” I asked. “What if he only gained them recently.”

  Tia looked at me. “You seriously think Regalia can make people into Epics?”

  “I’m not convinced, but she obviously wants us to believe she can create Epics, or at least enhance their abilities. Perhaps she has access to a gifter, or some kind of Epic we’ve never seen before, and fakes granting powers. Or … maybe she simply can create new Epics. Seems to me that as much as we’d like to, we can’t judge what is unreasonable when applied to Epics.”

  “Perhaps,” Tia admitted. She sat down in her chair beside the desk and fished out another pouch of cola.

  “You don’t like being forced to take charge,” I realized. “To run the operation, without Prof.”

  “I’m fully capable of being in command,” she said.

  “That’s an answer in the same way that ketchup can be hair gel.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “You see, it’s technically true, but—”

  “I understood,” Tia said.

  “You … did?”

  “Yes. And you’re right. Jon is the leader, David. I manage things; I make the pieces fit together. But he has the vision; he sees things others don’t. Not because of his … abilities. Just because of who he is. Without him to look over this plan, I worry I’m going to miss something important.”

  “He says he’ll be back in time to help.”

  “I hope so,” Tia said. “Because honestly, that man sure can mope with the best of them when he wants to.”

  “Was he like that before?”

  She eyed me.

  “He told me about NASA,” I noted. “I saw a picture of you two there, together. I’m impressed.”

  She sniffed. “Did he tell you why I had to invite him to visit?”

  “I assumed i
t was because you two were together.”

  “We’d only just started dating,” Tia said. “Another teacher in his school won a contest we were holding—come pretend to be an astronaut for a few weeks. Train, go through the tests, that sort of thing. We did it occasionally for PR reasons.”

  “And Prof didn’t win?” I asked.

  “He didn’t enter,” Tia said. “He hated contests. Wouldn’t even put a quarter into a slot machine. But that didn’t stop him from feeling torn apart when he didn’t get to go.” She stared at her pouch of cola without opening it. “We sometimes forget how human he is, David. He’s just a man, despite it all. A man full of feelings that, at times, don’t make sense. We’re all like that. We want what we can’t have, even when we have no right to demand it.”

  “It will be all right, Tia.”

  She seemed surprised by the tone of my voice, and looked up at me.

  “You see, he’s not just a man, Tia,” I said. “He’s a hero.”

  “You sound like one of them.”

  Them?

  And then it hit me—she meant the Faithful. Sparks, it was true. Where there are villains, there will be heroes. Just wait. They will come.… My father’s words, on the day he died.

  As recently as a few months ago, I’d regarded the optimism of people like Abraham and Mizzy as foolishness. What had changed?

  It was Prof. I couldn’t believe in some mythical Epics who may or may not someday arrive to save the world. But him … him I could believe in.

  I met Tia’s gaze.

  “Well,” she said, “finish unloading supplies, then get your gear together. I want you to go install a camera to watch Obliteration and give us a constant visual. We don’t know for certain if his energy storage will progress at the same rate as it did previously. I’d rather not be surprised.”

  I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me. I walked down the hallway and passed the storage chamber, where I found that Mizzy had been recruited to start carrying the boxes in. She set one down and gave me a perky smile before heading off for another.

  I couldn’t help grinning after her. She was the definition of what it meant to have an infectious personality. The world was a better place because Missouri Williams was in it.

  “Why is it,” a voice said softly from beside me, “that every time I find you these days, you’re ogling some girl?”

  I turned to look and there, standing just inside the storage room, was Megan.

  33

  MEGAN.

  Megan was inside the Reckoner base.

  I let out a sound that was definitely not a whimper. It was something far more manly, no matter what it sounded like.

  I glanced after Mizzy in a moment of panic, then stepped into the storage room, taking Megan by the arm. “What are you doing!”

  “We need to talk,” she said. “And you were ignoring me.”

  “I wasn’t ignoring you. Things have just been very busy.”

  “Busy looking at women’s backsides.”

  “I wasn’t … Wait.” It hit me and I smiled. “You sound jealous!”

  “Don’t be a buffoon.”

  “No,” I said. “You were jealous.” I found I couldn’t stop grinning.

  Megan seemed confused. “Normally, that’s not something people smile about.”

  “It means you care,” I said.

  “Oh please.”

  Time to say something suave. Something romantic. My brain, which had been working a few steps behind all day, finally came to my rescue. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’d rather ogle you any day.”

  Wait.

  Megan sighed, peeking out into the hallway past me. “You are a buffoon,” she said under her breath. “Is she likely to come back here?”

  Right. Enemy High Epic. Reckoner base. “I’m assuming you’re not here to turn yourself in?” I said softly.

  “Turn myself in? Sparks, no. I just needed to talk to someone. You were the most convenient.”

  “This is convenient?” I asked.

  Megan looked at me and blushed. A blush looked really good on her. Of course, so would soup, mud, or elephant earwax. Megan on a bad day outshined anyone else I’d ever known.

  “Come on,” I said, taking her by the arm. I didn’t want to encourage her to use her powers to hide, not when she was so obviously acting like the Megan I’d known before. Which meant moving quickly. I towed her after me in a heart-pounding rush down the hallway toward my room.

  We got there without being spotted. I pulled her in, then shut the door, pressing my back to it and exhaling like an epileptic pilot who’d just landed a cargo plane full of dynamite.

  Megan inspected the room. “You didn’t get one with a porthole, I see. Still the new kid on the team, eh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Nice, anyway,” she said, strolling forward. “Better than a metal hole in the ground.”

  “Megan,” I said. “How … I mean, does anyone else out there know where our base is?”

  She met my gaze, then shook her head. “Not so far as I know. I don’t meet with Regalia often—I don’t think she trusts me—but from what I’ve heard of the others, they’re searching for you. Regalia thinks your base is somewhere on the northern coast, and seems thoroughly annoyed that she hasn’t been able to find it.”

  “How did you find us, then?” I asked.

  “Steelheart had me bug everyone in the team,” she said.

  “So you …”

  “I can listen in,” Megan said, “on some of your calls. Or I could, for a while. Phaedrus is paranoid, changes both his phone and Tia’s regularly. Yours is dead. I can only listen in these days if someone calls Abraham or Cody.”

  “The supply shipment,” I said. “You heard where it was, got there before us, then snuck onto the submarine.”

  Megan nodded.

  “I was there,” I said. “I didn’t see you at all! Were you using your powers?”

  “Nah,” Megan said, flopping back onto the bed, lying across it sideways. “I only needed good old-fashioned stealth.”

  “But …”

  “I was about to sneak aboard after you’d been out of the sub for a while, and then Val came out following you and nearly gave me a heart attack. But I ducked just in time, then went in and hid in the bathroom.”

  I grinned, though she couldn’t see it—she was staring at the ceiling. “You’re amazing,” I said.

  The corners of her lips tugged up at that, though she remained staring upward. “It’s getting really difficult, David.”

  “Difficult?”

  “Not using my powers.”

  I scrambled up to the side of the bed. “You’ve been doing what I asked? Avoiding the abilities?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t know why I listen to you. Just makes life difficult. I mean, I’m basically a divinity, right? So I end up hiding in a bathroom?”

  I settled down, sitting on the bed beside her. The tension in her voice, that look in her eyes. “Is it working?” I asked. “Do you feel like murdering people indiscriminately?”

  “I always feel like murdering you. If only just a little.”

  I waited.

  “Yes,” Megan finally said with a sigh. “It’s working. It’s driving me insane in other ways, but not using my powers has removed some of the … tendencies from my mind. But I honestly don’t ever feel like killing people. For me, it manifests more as irritability and selfishness.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Probably because I’m not very powerful.”

  “Megan, you’re a High Epic! You’re wicked powerful.”

  “Wicked?”

  “Heard it in a movie once.”

  “Whatever. I’m not a very powerful Epic, David. I have to use a gun for Calamity’s sake! I can reincarnate, yes, but have you seen how weak my illusions are?”

  “I think they’re pretty awesome.”

  “I’m not fishing for
compliments, David,” she said. “We’re trying to get me to not use my powers, remember?”

  “Sorry. Uh, wow. Your powers are so lame. They’re like, about as useful as an eight-by-eighty mounted on a twelve-gauge firing birdshot.”

  She looked at me, then started laughing. “Oh sparks. You’d have a real good view of the pheasant dying, though.”

  “Up close and personal,” I said. “The way avian massacres were meant to happen.”

  This made her laugh more, and I grinned. She seemed to need the laughter. There was a desperation to it; though it did occur to me that we should make sure to keep things quiet.

  Megan stretched her arms back, then folded them on her stomach, sighing.

  “Feel good?” I asked.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said softly. “It’s horrible.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She glanced at me.

  “I’d like to know,” I said. “I’ve made a habit of … ending people with these powers. I don’t know if it will make me feel better or worse to know what they’re going through, but I think I should hear it either way.”

  She looked back at the ceiling and didn’t speak at first. I’d left one light on in the room, a small reddish-orange lamp with a glass shade. The room was silent, though I thought sometimes I could hear the ocean outside. Waves surging, water rolling. It was probably just my imagination.

  “It’s not like a voice,” Megan said. “I’ve read what some of Tia’s scholars write, and they treat it like schizophrenia. They claim that Epics have something like an evil conscience telling them what to do, which is a load of crap. It’s nothing like that.

  “You know how, some mornings, you just feel a little angry at the world?” she continued. “Or you’re irritable, so that small things—things that normally wouldn’t annoy you—set you off? It’s like that. Only mixed with an inability to care about consequences.

  “Even that’s kind of normal—I’ve been there, felt like that, long before I got these powers. You know how it is when you’re up late, and you know that if you don’t go to bed, you’re going to hate life the next day? Then you stay up anyway, because you don’t care? It’s like that. As an Epic, you just don’t care. After all, you deserve to be able to do what you want. And if you go too far, you can change later. Always later.”