The Sentence took his book and went home.
Once they were sure he was out of the prison, the Gales dismantled the carbon walls and returned it to the Quill warehouse.
He might return. He might just move on. But he has been beaten, and the Gales know it, and the Gales make damn sure everyone else hears about it.
A10 hasn’t told Harry the truth about the journal. She’s too frightened of what she found in there. She needs to think. She needs time to process.
She’d volunteered to be hypnotized, so the team would know what the Sentence was saying. What she’s learned about her powers told her she’d be safe doing so.
Harry didn’t know that. Harry had worried about her. He’d fretted about her safety, and then he’d trusted her to do what heroes always do.
And that was really sweet, and nice, and made all her terror worthwhile.
“We still haven’t beaten a villain worth the name, to help your reputation,” Stingray grumbles. “People still don’t trust you like they do other heroes.”
Ninjess smiles and rests a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter. We have grown in strength and unity as a team. We have developed tools and tactics together. And… it has been pleasant being with you, Trace.”
The young man smiles, in spite of himself. “Yeah. I guess it’s been good for that reason. And I like being around you too, Fuko.”
The squid girl gives his arm a quick squeeze, and his cheek a quick kiss. “Besides, what kind of ninja would I be if everyone knew about me?”
Mirage and Vigil are having a conversation. Specifically, she is at the home of Wayland Bryce, the Vigil’s civilian alter ego. He is at his computer and she is, for lack of a better explanation, inside it, looking through the screen at his face.
“You invited my suspicion,” Mirage says carefully. “I am now exercising that suspicion.”
“In general, or on a specific matter?” Bryce asks calmly.
Mirage frowns. “I was able to be projected into the computers at the Gale house with your hmm, privileged access to the Quill supercomputer. I assume that means you had access to our equipment during our battle with the Sentence. His sorceries can control the minds of those who see and hear his Enochian language. In plain English, sir, I wish to determine if your eavesdropping has compromised you.”
Bryce laughs heartily upon hearing that.
“Perhaps I should explain more clearly about what I hinted at,” he says.
“Perhaps you should.”
The billionaire settles back in his chair. “The being I partnered with is known as Binarya, the Cybergod. They - their identity is plural - exist as both a digital and spiritual entity, you could say. As such, my soul is hmm, spoken for. Magical compulsion will not reach me.”
Mirage narrows her eyes. Such a gesture is worse than futile as a purely digital being, but it is a purely human response she cannot help but make. “And through this alliance, you’ve transcended your agoraphobia to become a traveler in the virtual world. Looking out of every webcam, every screen, every display–”
Bryce nods. “Quite so. When I found Binarya in the family’s corporate core, I wondered how such a thing were possible. It is as though my family had bound a digital demon in a circle of ones and zeroes. Through their control over Binarya, they profited immensely. I chose to free the being, for better or worse. They vested some of their power in me.”
Mirage sighs. “Perhaps it was incorrect to ask whether you were in thrall to the Sentence. I should have asked generally, to whom are you in thrall?”
“You suspect Binarya,” Bryce says quietly.
“I suspect everyone and everything,” Mirage tells him, cold as ice.
Yet the man simply chuckles. “Wise. That is why I wish your help. You see, like you, I am the recipient of a power from my family - a power I cannot truly ethically use. That is why I am the Vigil, and nothing more. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”
“Who stands vigil over the Vigil, if you’ll forgive my mistranslation.”
Bryce nods. “And you should know that Binarya has a great interest in unique digital artifacts - or beings. Their power may be turned against your technological enemies D-SOL-8 and Motormouth. But I wish to guard you as carefully as you guard me, should their eyes turn to you too.”
Harry was ready to turn the cursed business card over to Stella at the Witches’ Sanctum, until a chance thought made him return to the Quill compound.
Jason Quill is out somewhere - probably gallivanting around the globe with Alycia, Harry thinks privately - but there are still nanotech experts on hand.
He gets a meeting going, and starts asking questions.
“Hey, you guys can’t operate to remove the nano-virus from my system, because if you try, my powers activate unconsciously, right? And then the nano-guys activate, and I die on the operating table, right?”
The nanotechnology experts look at each other and voice their agreement - with a parade of technical explanations, clarifications, qualifications, and so on. But in essence, that’s the size of it.
Harry holds up the card. “What if I didn’t have my powers?”
The last thing Harry remembers before going under is his mother’s worried face, and his dad’s falsely confident thumbs-up.
The surgery finishes without incident. It’s going to take six days to recover, the doctors and scientists estimate. But the nano-virus looks like it’s cleared up.
Herr Doktor Uhrwerk, one of the science specialists, is on hand to sum up the outcome of the procedure.
“The nano-virus is now dormant, allowing us to study it. We wondered about questions such as its power source. We were surprised indeed to learn that it was tailored - that it was so effective precisely because it could obtain metabolic energy from a Flitzer - pardon me, ‘speedster’ is the English. In a mundane human body, such as this special card permitted young Mr. Gale to be, the virus lacked a means to energize itself. We speculate that the nature of the nano-virus is as a containment system, or hmm, system for imprisoning individuals with your family’s particular power set. It is extremely unclear who could have engineered such an advanced specimen, and for whom it was intended, if not yourselves.”
“More worryingly, it responded to certain Quill nanotech protocols. This suggested to us that the sample we studied before was perhaps from the future - an offshoot of state-of-the-art work. Yet it is much more advanced than the samples which Mr. Quill himself permitted us to study. You see the difficulty? Someone has come back in time, with Quill-style nanotechnology, and this was engineered into, if you will forgive my bluntness, a prisoner’s collar for speedsters.”
The scientist takes his leave, and Harry is alone with his parents.
“Mom, dad… I have something to tell you both,” the young man says in quiet contemplation.
He really doesn’t want to bring it up. But they’re going to drive themselves out of control chasing down this nanotech thing, or maybe mistrusting Jason, or something. The unanswered questions won’t let them rest.
He has to say something.
“Mom, Never-miss of the Stellar Six is a young clone of you.”
Helen Gale has handled many shocks in her life. This one causes her to sit roughly down in a nearby hospital chair.
“How sure are you?” his dad asks tensely.
“I saw her face, dad. When the Grasscutters attacked the HHL. So did Stingray. And I figured it out. Never-miss has that supernatural accuracy with guns because she can just, y’know, mess with time. Aim - aim - aim - fire. She’s just really careful not to use her speed. Or was, until I unmasked her and she ran off.”
Helen has taken a few deep breaths. Her voice is tightly controlled. “Harry. I want to tell you not to worry about it. I wish I could say that your father and I would handle this. But I don’t think you’d be satisfied with that, would you. You want to be involved.”
Harry looks from his mom to his dad and back again. Is this it? Are they going to start telling him about the Seven Wonders? Or other secrets? Is this the breakthrough he’s hoped for?
“I am involved, mom,” he says, choosing his words with care. “See, I think it was Never-miss that infected me with this stuff. She could have moved fast, while I wasn’t paying attention. She’s probably the only one who could have moved fast enough I wouldn’t notice. And if Tyran has a clone of you, that means they had a test subject, to test the nanotech on, before using it on me.”
His father speaks up. “Why would they target you now?”
“Dad, earlier that day, I found out that Doug Pitt was Mudmaster. You know, the geokinetic–”
“The Elementals,” his dad says. “I remember. Okay.”
Harry continues thinking aloud. “I think they realized I was onto them. I think they targeted me. They couldn’t just kill me outright - so I think they set me up to be killed in that car bomb. The most mundane way of getting me. Something anyone could do. But they had to infect me first, with a tool they’d already developed. Maybe to keep Never-miss under control.”
He looks back to his mother. “I think maybe Doug Pitt is a clone too. I got to thinking, maybe they’re all clones. But I’m not sure. Mudmaster’s supposed to be in custody. But Tyran took over AEGIS, so now that could mean anything. I just don’t know. But…”
He finally has to say it. He doesn’t want to. But the words demand expression.
“Mom, I didn’t know what to do about this. I shoulda said something earlier. I’m sorry.”
His mother finds the strength to rise from the chair, and approach for a careful hug - mindful that Harry is still recovering from his own ordeal. “My son, you did the right thing,” she whispers. “You trusted us.”
With that admission, Harry takes a gamble. Maybe it’s time.
“So… listen. About the Seven Wonders. I can’t give up on that either. And I have to know. They were in custody, so they got beaten once. Had to have been. But Dr. Wissen’s book doesn’t talk about that, like, at all. How did the HHL beat them?”
James and Helen look at each other.
James talks first. “You’re gonna hate me for saying it, son, because it’s gonna sound like a cop-out, like your old man is dodging responsibility. But you’re gonna have to talk to Matt.”
“Uncle Chase?” Harry asks in confusion. “Why him? Weren’t the two of you involved?”
“You just - you have to ask him,” his mother affirms. “And - he may not want to talk about it. Harry, you’re worried we don’t trust you, aren’t you?”
He gulps, and nods.
Helen smiles, but Harry can see sadness in her eyes.
“It’s not that, son. It’s - it’s something else. Listen, Harry. Talk to Matt. And son, this is important.”
She leans close, and he can feel her breath, and see fear in how she looks at him.
“Don’t talk to anyone else about the Seven Wonders. From now on.”