Monday was interesting.
My first real day on the farm.
It was quiet. I'd never had so much space to myself, and I'd spent the day walking it while moving the bees into their hives, and playing around with them, and with all the insects in the area.
It was a pretty place. Not one neatly kept, no, but you could see where, three owners ago, someone had tried to make of it a country retreat, and if the rosebush hedges dividing each part of the property from the next were now thoroughly overgrown, I could still see the where clean lines had once been laid down. Once they were in full bloom, I thought the effect might be quite beautiful, even.
As it was, their unchecked growth over the years while the bank held the property made for a thorny maze of barriers averaging six feet high, utterly impassible to the eye or probing limb. But with my insects, I could feel the little paths or tunnels through; with my spidersilk costume, I could ignore the thorns. Tactically, it made for a wonderful defensive retreat, a place where I could withdraw and evade entire armies at need.
Unless they could ignore thorns too. Or set the bushes on fire. Or fly.
So this wouldn't even slow Lung down, though it might let me play hide-and-go-seek with him. Or, preferably, hide-and-run-away. Not that the environment would necessarily stop another strong parahuman — it wouldn't even stop me. Flight, toughness, enhanced senses... any of them would be enough to bypass its shelter. Even a Tinker could whip up some kind of tracker. Or a flame thrower. Or something bigger still. I took my time walking the tunnels anyway, seeing with my eyes what my swarms had shown me, recording the paths with my feet as well as my bugs.
And while I did that, I reached out.
You got different insects in the country, and exploring those differences, feeling the way the land and habitat varied for acres in different directions, was a new and pleasant feeling. There were different insect habitats in the city, of course, but they weren't quite as varied: uniformity of construction selected for a certain uniformity of insects as well.
Here, you had marked variations around the house, in the orchards (four owners back, there'd been an attempt to make hard cider here during Prohibition — trucking it in from Canada had proved cheaper), in the woodlands (the owner the bank had foreclosed on had liked his pheasant hunting) or in the meadows.
The neighbouring properties felt different again, the distinction between pasture and farmland palpable in the differing insect populations. It was something to think about, while crouching through another green-shaded thorn-rimmed tunnel on my way from one part of the property to another, tracing all the different paths between them.
While I was doing that, I was also working. I'd set the bees to making honey — I had plans for tomorrow. It wasn't hard to make them more efficient, but it was pretty clear that they'd run through the resources of this property pretty fast. I wasn't sure if that was because I had them harvesting more efficiently, or simply because I'd had a lot of bees delivered. And I was already making more queens — it would take a few weeks, even with my forcing things along, but there would soon be extra hives.
You can never have too many bees, after all.
Still, I'd have to explore other ways of feeding them, if I wanted to have as many hives as I needed, and some basic kitchen experiments (opening jars without knocking them over and breaking them may be beyond bees working in unison, but surprisingly little else was) had established that they could eat other things. Sugar and water would cover most of their needs, but I could tell that wouldn't be enough to support the new bees and queens as they grew.
It was a fun little game: identifying the proportions and ingredients so that they'd get the nutrition they needed. And if I ever wanted to leave them alone for a while, I'd have to make sure that they'd eat it without me making them do it, so there were some elements of taste or smell to it. From my end, it was more mixing things up and feeling what a hungry bee felt attracted toward and revulsed by, and then trying lots of different experiments.
I had no idea what the countertop would have looked like to a passing stranger — probably a swarming mass of insects which periodically paused for a bee to take a bite of something, before mixing things back together again. Eventually, my taste-testers started to agree on a mixture, and I smiled.
Taylor Hebert: bee-chef extraordinaire.
I might even take a few hives with me to my little apartment in the city. Fresh honey in the mornings, and bees at hand if necessary... and none of the issues about how much pollen might be available to support the number of bees. Besides, the buzzing sounded like it would make for a comforting white noise when I wanted to sleep.
After settling on what amounted to a bee vitamin formula, I turned my thoughts to honey. Arranging for individual cells in the frames to be filled with honey taken from harvesting different sources was trivial, and a single cell's worth of honey was enough to taste-test things. I wasn't really sure how far I could take it, but I was pretty sure that I could arrange for some very precise blends of honey flavours, some of which would be novel.
While I'd been doing this, I'd also been gathering spiders, dividing them up, feeding them, setting them to breeding and weaving both. It would take time to set up a full population, even with what I'd managed to salvage from the spider populations I'd organized in my old neighbourhood, and while it was perfectly feasible to order bees by the pound, people just didn't ship black widows by the pound.
And they got a little nervous when you asked if they would, too.
At least Quinn kept telling me that sometime this week he'd have the paperwork done for me to be a PRT vendor (codename: Tailor) and I could officially start ordering exotic insects. (He'd also said that this was far from the weirdest thing he'd seen Tinkers import. Not that I was a Tinker, not really.) I was planning to start with Darwin's Bark spiders, but there were a lot of other possibilities, depending on what I needed. Anyway — a few more weeks and I'd have an awful lot of spiders here.
I had a fair number in the terraria in my city apartment, but this farm was measured in acres. I could cram a lot more insects into a lot smaller space than people might expect, but here?
Here I could have tons of insects.
Literally.
Might get expensive, feeding that many, so I'd probably stop well short of that amount.
While I'd been doing all of that, I'd also taken out my phone from time to time.
I had plans for tomorrow, after all.
A few calls had established that, while the PRT switchboard operators did their dead level best to screen out random callers, identifying oneself as a known rogue bypassed most of them. Or maybe it had to do with the pending vendor application? Either way, it was funny to be able to say it was "Tailor calling, like the profession" and get put right through. Things had been arranged for tomorrow afternoon.
I'd set that phone aside, as not to be used except for dealing with the heroes.
Quinn had said that talking to villains wasn't itself illegal (though what you said might be: e.g., don't agree to do things for them, or ask them to do things for you), and that if the Protectorate ever got serious that swapping phones wouldn't matter that much... but it was worth keeping as a habit, and that he could sell it as a reaction to Bakuda instead of a guilty conscience.
Which, after all, it was.
He'd also said that no matter what I used, any conversations with him couldn't legally be recorded by the heroes... and that some conversations should be had in person anyway. Like the one we'd had over tea Sunday afternoon ("at my hourly rate, weekends are for other people") on how he really couldn't talk about any prospective illegal act except to tell me "don't."
He had at least agreed to look into Thomas Calvert, since figuring out whether someone was PRT or not wasn't criminal unless you were planning to kill them or something, and was just common sense if you weren't sure whether they were misrepresenting themselves or not.
I'd also called Lisa. That would be tomorrow evening.
Purity still wasn't answering her phone, I really didn't want to leave a voicemail, there hadn't been any reports about her appearing in public since the fight with Lung, and tracking her lair down would be an unfriendly act... so I waited.
I wasn't really sure how bad the stomach wound had been, but Othala had gotten away from the fight. There'd been other grave injuries, so unless Purity had died almost immediately, it was hopefully a matter of spreading out the regeneration to keep anyone from dying.
···---···
Tuesday morning was pleasant, in an early spring kind of way. Clear and chill, with the promise of warmth to come. The table on the porch was laid out with an assortment of mugs and condiments for them to choose among, and water inside was boiling. I could feel the slow approach of a small unlabeled truck as it made its way up the hill.
I reached over to the counter, and pulled on my mask.
Show time.
More frightening, in its way, than a fight. I knew how to fight, and how to run.
The truck pulled into the driveway, and from it stepped Gallant, silver power armor gleaming, followed by Clockblocker's lanky white bodysuit. And then Aegis, in his red and silver, followed by the red and gold of Kid Win. Gallant turned, offering a hand to Glory Girl, tall and blonde and apparently dressed for an afternoon of yachting. Panacea, in her white robe trimmed with red caduceuses, declined the assist, though Vista grinned beneath her green visor as she took his hand for her hop down.
I watched them, silently.
Gallant turned gracefully, spoke — "The administration wasn't exactly eager to let us out on our own, and as soon as one chaperone was added..."
Aegis broke in, curtly. "It's my responsibility. Partly, it's that these two have demonstrated that they can't be trusted to follow the rules — which do exist for a reason" his gaze briefly left mine to sweep over Clockblocker and Gallant "without supervision. Partly, because I screwed up in ways that made your life worse, and I need to apologize."
He bowed, holding it a little longer than I was comfortable with. "I'm sorry."
He straightened. "And, partly, because I need to show my juniors" — the sweeping gesture now encompassed all Wards present — "how to run things when it's their turn. Second most important job I have."
I blinked behind my mask.
Everyone watched me.
If you're pinned down, disoriented, and can't improvise, that's exactly what contingencies are for. I promptly fell back on my prepared plans.
"Tea?"
A chorus of replies echoed back, giving me permission to turn around and flee into the farmhouse.
I listened through my bugs as I filled teapots and set bread in the toaster.
"Is she rich or something?" The voice was young, male, unknown to me. Kid Win?
"Kid, you know how much your Tinkering budget is?" Clockblocker.
"Yeah."
"Well, they've graded her Tinker 3, Master 2 for now. And while she can't make insect size laser rifles, that just means she doesn't really need to buy materials or components the way you do. But spider silk has some very rare properties — and she's the only source of it on earth. So now imagine a small fraction of your Tinkering budget, and everyone else's, going to her. Once you're done with that, imagine what it costs to replace all our costumes normally."
A whistle, followed by "Daaamn."
Followed in turn by a thump and some muttering beneath Gallant's smooth tones: "Ladies are present, and we're not even in combat."
I made a note to check more closely with Quinn about what he was negotiating in my name, pulled the bread out, added another batch, and moved back out with one of the teapots and a plate of fresh toast.
"I don't have a lot of different teas, but I do have some herbal and some black. And there's honey."
I gestured at a number of mismatched small bowls on the table.
"Homemade. I've been trying for different flavors, but that might take a while to get right."
Glory Girl was first to them, dabbing bits of honey on toast and then sharing them with Panacea. Apparently, she had something of a sweet tooth. Kid Win followed, and Vista hung back initially, watching, until Aegis put a hand on her shoulder and steered her to the teas.
That left Gallant and Clockblocker. The latter spoke "It's a nice gesture, but full-face masks make it kind of impractical."
I nodded. "I'd planned to go inside, or to the other side of the house, or something like that. And really, I wanted to see you two and say thanks. I don't know what would have happened if I'd been forced into the Wards."
Gallant studied me a moment. "You do seem calmer. And we're glad to have helped."
I could hear the grin in Clockblocker's voice, even if I couldn't see it through his mask, as he said "Helping is what we do. That it irritated Piggy was just a bonus."
I hid a grin of my own. Director Piggot hadn't seemed friendly when I met her. Apparently, she had simply been trying to treat me like one of her own from the start. Downright welcoming of her... from a certain point of view.
"Anyway. I owe you guys. Wanted to make that clear."
Gallant shook his head. "All part of the job, miss."
He sounded like he believed it, too.
I shrugged.
"I'd been planning on doing the uniforms for your team at cost anyway, but maybe it'll help your position with the Director if I let you break the news?"
They looked at each other, and laughed.
I smiled.
···---···
Panacea was harder to find a chance to talk to. She kept to her sister's shadow, and frankly I wasn't really eager to face another rapid-fire round of questions about how I did my honey flavors, and if I could do chocolate or coffee flavored, and what living on my own was like.
Particularly that last.
And that was exactly what Glory Girl had hit me with after blitzing the toast and tea I'd set out.
Gallant had stepped into that crisis smoothly and managed to point her toward replenishing the toast while I stayed near the door. Clockblocker joined the others at the table, tasting the honey and making tea.
Vista walked over to stand beside me, finishing her toast with precise bites.
She could be anything from a tiny freshman to a sixth-grader. Too young? As if any of us were old enough.
We watched the three inside fiddle with the toaster for a while.
"That's a practical choice of costume. Good coverage."
She might as well have been discussing the weather. I guess, for her, she was discussing very basic facts of life.
"Thanks. I wanted something safe. Knifeproof. Better, if I could manage it."
Her hand moved to her chest, as if reaching for a necklace she wasn't wearing. Something from her civilian life?
I paused, then ventured a question of my own. "You wanted something more colorful instead?"
She shrugged. "People expect heroes to look the part. Better armor would be nice though."
I nodded. "I'll probably be working on that, soon."
Kid Win joined us.
"So, you're going to measure us?"
I blinked. "I hadn't planned on it today, but I could, yes."
"How?"
"I'd cover you in spiders."
They both squeaked as New Wave emerged with more toast, Gallant in tow.
···---···
I managed to corner Panacea later — Glory Girl ("Victoria, please.") had dragged off Gallant the long way (the one without thorns) to look at the apple trees, and Aegis, Clockblocker, Kid Win, and Vista were on the lawn, playing the craziest game of keep-away I'd ever seen. Aegis had prefaced it as a reaction-time and power-usage drill, and it probably served those purposes too, but I wondered if he was covering for Gallant's walk with Victoria under the trees.
Or if the coincidence that let me talk to Panacea a moment really was just chance.
"Panacea, I'd asked you here to say thanks. That I owed you."
She shrugged, and ducked deeper into her hood.
"You probably hear that you made a difference all the time, but it really made a difference to me, being up and about sooner."
" 'S what I do. What I have to." Her voice had dropped to a near whisper by the end.
I looked at her freckled face, shadowed by the hood, and was silent a moment.
"If there's ever anything I can do..."
The words hung in the air a moment before a giggling Victoria flew in, waved, and babbled something about Gallant coming for payback before sweeping Panacea up, up, and away.
I watched the pair fly off, gladdened by Panacea's first smile of the day, and wondering what it would have been like to have had a sister. I was still watching the sky when Gallant strolled up beside me.
"Tried to thank her too?"
I nodded.
"Not much luck?"
I shook my head.
"She could use a friend."
"Being public like that can't help."
"Doesn't."
He stretched his arms, and there was a lightning-fast interplay of glances between between Gallant, Aegis, and Clockblocker — I don't think I would have seen it if I hadn't been watching the yard from almost a dozen different angles, through my swarms — and Clockblocker leapt up, tapping the ball and leaving it hanging.
"I win!"
Aegis' voice cut through the ensuing chatter. "All right. Time to pack up anyhow."
He turned to me.
"Tailor, thank you for your hospitality. Particularly considering how things went last time, it was courteous of you to extend the invitation."
He paused, and his tone grew a little rueful.
"Besides, we could all use a Director-approved break."
I blinked. "I hadn't read anything in the papers..."
Laughter brought me up short.
"And you won't. Dramatic fights make the papers; gang beefs don't." Vista's tone was purely matter of fact.
"And there's a lot going on?"
Nods all round.
Aegis took the lead. "I don't know if you heard, but Lung killed Kaiser."
I nodded.
"Ever since, his lieutenants have been fighting over the big chair, and Lung periodically jumps in. It's a mess. As bad as I've ever seen it."
I blinked.
I hadn't heard anything about that.
I hadn't seen anything like that.
I'd spent my time lately looking at Coil's base — not coincidentally, in roughly the middle of his territory — and getting my new life organized. What had I failed to see? Was this distraction Lung's motive, or one of them, for pointing me at Coil?
"We'll be on our way, then."
The heroes shuffled back into the truck, which drove off as anonymously as it had come, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I began cleaning up. There were a couple of hours to sundown and my next guests.
Something wrong in my city? Something I hadn't known about, still didn't know enough about?
I knew just who to ask.