Chapter 11

Homecomings

The police on Bantus questioned us for a week.

We stuck to our version of the truth: we’d hired the restaurant for a business meeting and were shocked and frightened when a fight broke out amongst those terrible people. I could tell the detectives weren’t very convinced, but the footage that Seventhirtyfour sent them, the presentation from the meeting, every shred of physical evidence showed that our only role in the fight was as victims. I think they wanted to keep us longer but eventually caved to diplomatic influence from the Academy and political influence from the Gravane corporation.

The heads of the three crime families were going away. Perhaps only for a few weeks, depending on how the lawyers wrangled it, but it would give the people of Bantus a respite at least. I was worried that it might yet lead to fighting in the streets, but the power vacuums left by Campbell, Tazforj and Bowrider seemed limited to the ranks of their organisations for now. I’d call it a win, even if I wasn’t sure what I’d achieved long-term.

Regardless, I got a thank you note from Gravane’s contact on the planet, so, tick. I’d done as Mrs. Gravane asked.

I had one last job to do before we left.

My Ripper had worked on Bayor Tazforj’s credit stick throughout the fight. I couldn’t get to his main account, but as I hoped, he was the sort of guy that liked to carry flash cash on him. Twenty thousand credits. An insignificant drop by the Tazforj organisation’s standards, sure. But enough to get someone back on their feet once all their funds were wiped out.

I took Gadget Dude with me on one last tour of the city, finishing up in the artisan quarter, where dozens of small craft industries plied their trades. The sort of places that made things by hand despite the availability of cheaper mass-produced options.

The smell of wood and varnish in the cabinet maker’s storefront was remarkable. Not the ozone and grease of home, but still pleasant. Wardrobes and dressers lined one wall, exquisitely produced, each an individual work of art.

The Zalex woman who ran the store came and stood near me. Not enough that I felt crowded, but so I knew I could call on her if I had a purchase in mind or questions to answer. Behind her, her young daughter sat on the store counter, playing with off-cuts of wood, stacking them into towers, then knocking them over.

“These are very impressive,” I said.

“Listen to song,” the Zalex woman said. “Wood knows what to be.”

“I wish I had a place for this wardrobe, but I’m going off world tonight. Do you have smaller, decorative pieces?”

She nodded. “Wait, fetch.”

I ambled over towards the display counter. Gadget Dude stayed by the wardrobe, put one ear against it, nodded appreciatively. I guess he liked the song.

“Hi there,” I said to the daughter. “What’s your name?”

“Ix,” she said, then her eyes widened. “Same badge!” She pointed to my smile pin, still stuck to my lapel, then at her jacket, which had four of the bronze pins stuck to it.

I laughed. “Here, you can have mine to add to your collection.” I unclipped it and passed it over.

She received it with great reverence, then pinned it to her jacket.

“Actually, I have something else for you. Well, for you and your mum. Can I give it to you?”

She nodded solemnly.

“I saw you and your mum on the news before I came to Bantus. I want you both to have this.” I put my Ripper on the counter, still primed with Tazforj’s cash. “I hope it helps.”

I gathered up Gadget Dude, and we bailed, before Ix’s mum came back.

# # #

“And that’s when I knew we couldn’t stand by any longer, that we were needed here,” Sunbolt told the assembled journalists and photographers at the spaceport. Avrim and Seventhirtyfour silently flanked him, both looked a little embarrassed and awkward with all the attention. “But the call to action is never-ending, and now I must journey on to the next world crying out under the heel of injustice.” The white light in his eyes and from his hair blazed.

“Uh-huh. And do you have any comment that your action was associated with and financed by Mirabor Gravane of the Gravane Corporation?” asked a journalist. In my imagination, she was all hard-bitten and chewing gum in a no-nonsense way, but I couldn’t see her in the crowd from where we were.

I turned away, hunched my shoulders, put on Seventhirtyfour’s glasses. “Time to get out of here,” I told Pilvi and Gadget Dude. “I don’t mind the name being associated with the mission, but I don’t want any captioned photos.”

We made our flight unmolested by the press and enjoyed the first leg of the journey back to the Academy without Sunbolt’s tutoring.

# # #

The first time the six of us got to compare notes about our field trip was back in a café on Aviary. I had just enough left on my credit stick to buy coffees for everyone, I’d end my time as a trainee superhero as I started it. Sunbolt sat slightly apart from the group, far enough to make the distinction, but close enough to join in. I mirrored him, close enough to feel a part one last time, but far enough to create some distance.

“You were amazing,” rumbled Seventhirtyfour. “The three of you against a dozen hardened mobsters? It’s what the Academy is all about, you know? Taking what you do best, whether it’s a superpower or not, and helping people.”

“And then keeping your head down until the guy with actual powers turns up,” Sunbolt drawled.

“I’m just glad Avrim was there to save Gadget Dude,” said Pilvi.

“Avrim save? When?”

“Do you think that’s what your prophecy was about, Seventhirtyfour?” Avrim asked.

Seventhirtyfour choked.

“I guess it has to be, right?” said Pilvi.

I let their conversation wash over me, kept quiet and sipped my coffee. My pretence had gone on longer than it had any right to. I should have been found out weeks before, and any day I delayed now was going to increase that risk. Put myself at the bottom of the Academy’s gravity well again, there was no way I’d make it out without blowing my cover. It was time.

Seventhirtyfour put two hands to his temples, the lower pair gripped the table. He crossed his eyes and muttered. “I see… I see…” The others laughed, egging him on. He gasped, and spoke in a tumble of words: “I see Grey with a black eye, but it’s not Grey?”

“Truly your powers are amazing. You’re predicting someone other than Grey will get a black eye at some point in the future?” asked Sunbolt. “However could you know?”

Seventhirtyfour, I think I’d miss the most. Considering he’d unwittingly chased me into the Academy, I had a lot to thank him for, one way or another. That he just assumed we were friends from day one, his endless enthusiasm, he had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met. It was such a shame that on our one and only mission we didn’t get to spend time together.

I stood. “I’m just getting a refill. I’ll be right back.”

I crossed the café, ducked out of the back door, left the life of superheroes, and of Mirabor Gravane, behind me.

# # #

First order of business was to get off Aviary. They would likely search for me eventually, and it was probably better if I was far away before the search started.

A quick jog across station to find the service lifts. Slide in behind a pair of workers managing a wheeled cage of parts. Duck down a service shaft to avoid the security door. A bump on the grate at the end, while lifting the bottom edge with my fingertips, and I was out into the docks.

Always busy, always bustling this is the part of the process that most travellers don’t see. Most people assume it’s all automated, and sure the heavy lifting is all done by autonomous pallet-skiffs and semi-intelligent loaders, but every step of the way is managed and monitored by people. Eye-balling conveyors, double-checking everything from destination tags on individual bags to load distribution on heavy freighters. In charge of all the comings and goings, of people, cargo, and ships, was the Polifan dockmaster.

I knocked on the bulkhead beside the doorway to his office. “Hi Luada, how’s tricks?”

He looked up from his terminal, scowling. “Get back to wor… wait… is that little Andy?”

“Right you are, boss,” I lied. “You’re looking good, Lu. Have you lost weight?”

He patted his ample stomach. “Med techs tell me if I want to keep air-worthy, I need to shed a few kilos yet. He got in a right flap about it.” I remembered his poor jokes and booming laugh. “But look at you, you’ve added more than a few kilos and centimetres since you were last here. What was it? Eight years ago?”

“Only five, boss. Feels like a lifetime, though.”

He held up a finger for me to wait, tapped on his terminal. “Flight AQ-291 is cleared for departure,” he said into the mic. “No rest for the wicked. So, what are you doing with yourself these days?”

“Oh, this and that. Nothing permanent. Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help on that front. Are there any ships hiring? I’ve got itchy feet, was hoping to send some sky by them again.”

“Maybe, maybe. I assume you do more than just run messages these days?”

“Lots more. Most recently I’ve been working for a corporation doing… event management. But I’m looking for some solid crew work. Destination doesn’t matter much.” Just as long as I didn’t end up crewing the flight back to the Academy.

He spoke into his terminal again. “Hold flight KD-909. Check that, I have a green. KD-909 is cleared.” He scratched his chin. “Damndest thing. I’d almost forgotten, but a couple of days ago, I got a message about you. And for you.”

“For me?”

He tapped a few times on his terminal. “They didn’t ask for you by name, just a picture. Said you’d likely be looking for a ship. I didn’t recognise it until now, still thought of you as a gangly runner underfoot.”

My shoulders tightened. “Can I see the picture?”

“Of course, here.” He twisted the terminal to face me. Not great quality, looked like a zoom of a security photo, but there was no mistaking it was me, dressed in Gravane’s business suit; taken on Bantus, recently.

“And somebody sent this to you?”

“Not to me specifically. The recipient list was long. I recognised dockmasters for a few stations in this area.”

Hell. “What did the message say?”

“Just to keep an eye out for you. And to give you a vid file to look at, if I saw you. You in trouble, Andy?”

“For a change, not really.”

“You want the file?”

“Let me have a look at the list of recipients.” I skimmed it. Most of the names meant nothing to me, but the addresses, I recognised enough of those. This had been sent to every station within a couple of jumps of Bantus. Someone who knew I’d been there wanted to get in touch with me. The fact that they weren’t looking for Mirabor Gravane, or Michael Andrews by name… that said something. No idea what, though. “Give me the file.”

He flicked it to my wrist pad. “You still want that crew job?”

“Hold off on that. Let me watch the video first. Thanks, Lu.”

# # #

I found a quiet, dark area of the docks and opened the file. A tinny voice said, “Please state your name for verification.”

Which name? So many to choose from. But the person in the picture… that wasn’t me. As far as most people looking for the person in the picture knew, that was “Mirabor Gravane.”

The screen faded to black, a single word in white text emblazoned across the centre:

Liar.

Something very cold gripped my chest. What was this?

The word faded out, and the shape of a face slowly faded in to replace it, filling the screen, distorted because the camera was so close, but there was no mistaking who it was. The real Mirabor Gravane. But not in the state I’d last seen him. This Gravane’s face was smudged with dirt and sweat, his lip was split, his chin reddened with dried blood. One eye was swollen shut, the other was blood-shot and unfocused. His head bowed toward the camera, making his forehead appear massive, then something, someone, pulled his head back up again, and not kindly. Gravane’s face contorted in obvious pain, all in eerie silence. There was no audio on the image.

It faded to black again, before more text faded in.

We have him, but nobody believes us.

Fade.

His life is in your hands.

Fade.

Five million credits.

Fade.

Two weeks.

What did Gravane need right now? A superhero?

He didn’t need me, that was for sure. If I hadn’t left my Ripper on Bantus… without it, I couldn’t bypass the biometrics on Gravane’s account, I couldn’t get at his money to pay the ransom. I had nothing. The most I’d ever scammed in a week was a few hundred credits. I wouldn’t know where to start making five million.

There was no way to bargain or bluff. I didn’t know who sent the message, from where. The sender information was fake; I could have spotted that even without the training in Prof Craft’s class.

Perhaps I could just vanish. They had no way of knowing the message had even reached me. The kidnappers’ problem was that despite their claims, with me in the frame, Mirabor Gravane didn’t appear lost. They didn’t have leverage. But if I vanished… would they go back to plan A and tap the family again? Or would they cut their losses? They clearly weren’t above harming their bargaining chip.

And if I couldn’t risk vanishing. Where would I go? Where could they be sure to contact me again?

Right.

# # #

“Grey! You agree with me, don’t you?” asked Seventhirtyfour.

I hooked a thumb back over my shoulder. “I was just at the…” I said. “Wait, agree about what?”

“That all the fighting we did on Bantus should give us extra credit for self-defence. Sunbolt says we’ve not trained enough.”

“Right,” said Sunbolt. “I did the only real fighting, and even that was over in less than a minute. I’m not giving myself extra credit, so I’m certainly not giving you any. If anything, you losers need more mat time now than when you left. I have some very particular refresher lessons in mind for all of you.”

I sat back down, defeated. I’d been so close to getting away, but really, there was no choice. I wasn’t done with the Academy yet.

Pilvi leaned in close, whispered to me. “Grey, are you okay? You were gone a long time.”

Just tell her. That would be it. Ask for help. They would all give it. “I’m fine. I… just had some bad news. Family stuff. Don’t worry.”

She put a hand on my wrist. “If you need to talk, I’m a good listener.”

I gave her a tight smile. “Thanks. But… I need to process it myself first.”

“Okay.”

# # #

Crossing the quad was more difficult than ever. I’d thought it was behind me. Thought I could go out on a high, but I was back and the feeling of triumph of Bantus was a fleeting memory. Instead, I was walking underneath that damn sky again, aching, bruised and stiff – Sunbolt had made good on his promise – and worried not just for me, but for Gravane’s life as well.

This had all been a game once, right?

We scattered to our various accommodation blocks. Seventhirtyfour and I stumbled up to our level; he gave me a tired thumbs-up and went to his room. I needed a long hot shower.

As the door closed behind me, something hit me hard on the back of the head.

And everything went black.