“So what do you think?” Darryl McCarthy asked me.

I blinked. “Are you sure this is legitimate?”

“It carries the stamp of the Stratospheric Guard, so yes.”

“But it’s… unusual, right? Ultrahumans don’t just get invited to join partnerships with major corporations.”

“Actually they do. It’s not commonly known, but a lot of inventors have been involved in technological developments. Biotrask’s sixth-generation antibiotics were licensed by Pfizer, and Monotorque created the current generation of ultradense electric batteries. And Bastionbank, of course.”

“I though inventech couldn’t be mass produced.”

“Most of it cannot. A few technologies, however, are close enough to current-day technology to be easily reverse engineered. BAE thinks that your nanofibre weave is one of those, and are willing to pay for the possibility of figuring out how to mass-produce it.”

“That’s a heck of a risk for them to spend fifty million dollars on.”

“Fifty million pounds, actually, which works out to 80 million dollars. And yes, they’re willing to pay that much in cash for the suits and the test material. Plus the 33% stake in the factory they’re planning to set up.” He glanced at my companion. “Given how easily you made the suit for your newest advisor, I take it they aren’t too hard to make.”

In his new Nanofibre Weave Powered Armor, Paul gently coughed. “I would need to go through the proposal in a little more detail to offer my opinion.”

“By all means. Anytime this week will do, although I would advise against delaying it any further. In the meantime, your payment applications for London - and Nanocloud’s - have been sent through, and I expect payment at full anchor rates for the both of you.”

“Mr. McCarthy?” Anne interjected. “I thought I was listed as a support.”

“You were, until the Lynxians attacked the Tower of London and turned it into a combat zone. The British were quite clear that without your warning, the Tower would have been overrun - and that’s saying nothing of the fact that you kept communications going throughout the jamming field for the entirety of the two hours London was shut down.”

Anne raised her armored hand. “But… isn’t this a little too much?”

“As I’ve told other clients on occasion, the Stratospheric Guard’s decisions are final, so there’s no point in contesting them. Although if we did, you’d be the first to argue for a reduction.”

Paul coughed. “The sum applied for will be fine. Nanocloud and Belessar are both getting the same amount?”

“Yes. Five-and-a-half hours as anchors, rounded up to six; and another seven hours as support, for healing the wounded and providing tracking telemetry. That works out to 1.57 million dollars each, 1.12 million after taxes and our fees.”

I’d joked with Paul earlier that morning that London would probably pay for Anne’s college tuition. Of course, at that point I’d thought she would be classified as a support….

“What about Agni?”

“Mr. Belessar, I’m not at liberty to discuss another ultrahuman’s payment application. Even if you did bring her to us.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Agni’s case is a little more complicated than yours, since she is on the do-not-hire list. Mr. Butterfield is handling it.”

“Understood. What about Phoenix Company?”

“SURGE has approved paying them at support rates. Ms. Cullen expressed her satisfaction with the results.”

“What about…” I swallowed. “Maria. Her benefits.”

“The same as the others of Phoenix Company. ”

“I’d like to contribute some of what I earned in London to her family.”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t name any relatives who could be contacted. Also, I’d suggest you have a word with Ms. Cullen before you make a decision."

‐-------------------

“I went through the BAE proposal,” Paul told me that evening. “I think they’re lowballing.”

“How?”

“Think about it. The U.S. Army was willing to pay you twenty thousand dollars per Mass Driver rifle, for a small batch. BAE wants five-and-a-half thousand suits for six thousand pounds each, plus a million square metres of nanofibre weave for research and development at seventeen pounds each.”

“That’s still fifty million pounds. Hardly low.”

“This is a defence contract, Andrew. Those typically run to the billions.”

“What about the joint venture thing?”

“The JV proposal makes you part owner of the factory that makes nanofibre weave combat armor. You can either supply the weave yourself, or provide the tooling and technology to make the factory run. In return, you get a third of the profits of the firm and a seat on the Board of Directors, while BAE and the UK’s Ministry of Defence nominate the other boardmembers.”

“Does this mean they could sell to whoever they chose? Even if I disagree?”

“Quite the opposite. The company’s only allowed to sell to the Royal Army and its allies, and the British Government has to approve all sales. Of course, if you’re on the board you can insist on an equal veto on any sales. In return, they’ll buy every square metre of weave and every suit you make for the next five years, at these rates.”

“That sounds too good to be true.”

“Andrew, how long does it take you to make a nanofibre weave suit? Starting from nothing?”

I did some quick calculations. “Right now… about twelve minutes.”

“And to make 5,500 suits, if you worked eleven hours a day, how long would it take you?”

“Four months… I get your point. The current batch isn’t even the start, is it?”

“Imagine we get hit by another assault like London. Assume a suit and a HEPAR make a normal soldier the equal of a Raptor. How long would it take you, individually, to equip everyone?”

I sighed. “Decades, probably.”

“Whereas, if you were to make a dozen suits of Boar Armor, they’d probably have more impact. But each would cost a lot more.”

“True.”

“And you’ve been telling me you can make even more advanced armors … given time. Which, if you take this contract, you won’t have.”

“Do you mean I should turn it down?”

Paul shook his head. “I think this is a gesture from the Brits. They want the armor, they want to pay for it fairly… and if you say an outright no, they’ll wonder why. The best thing to do right now is to talk to them.”

“How will that help?”

“BAE said they think your tech can be mass-produced. Build the factory, and let them figure out how to reverse engineer it. Just make it clear to them that it’s a risk.”

“And if it doesn’t work? What do I tell Windsor then?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You can, of course, offer him an alternative. A dozen Boar Armor suits for the best of the best, if the nanofibre weave doesn’t work out.”

“A dozen suits in place of five-and-a-half thousand?”

“Andrew, powered combat armor is worth a lot more than unpowered. Your Boar Armor suits would probably be worth a million pounds each to the Brits.”

“Technically, the armor you wore today is also powered.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, after London everyone was complaining that the nanofibre weave doesn’t breathe…. So I modified the bodyplate and helmet to add a heavy power pack and an airconditioning system.”

“Andrew… I thought you had to integrate nearly eight hundred small packs for a heavy one!”

“A Heavy Power Pack requires 2000 MP, Dad.” With a surge of blue light, I crafted one, which landed with a plop! on the dining table. “Which I now have. And can recharge in ten seconds.”

Paul eyed the glowing blue battery with a less-than-pleased look. “You’re going to move that off where we eat.”

“Of course.” The pack disappeared back into my inventory.

“Does the power pack only run the airconditioning?”

“It has the juice to do a lot more.”

“Very well. Andrew, there’s something else I need to ask you. How much MP do you need to forge a suit of Boar Armor? End to end.”

“You mean everything?”

“The fullersteel, which I know you forge, the plasmium for the power packs, the integrator, everything put together.”

I paused. “You think I could make the Boar Armor more easily than the nanofibre weave.”

“I think that the best application of the weave isn’t as armor. You might have used it for that at first, but that was a stopgap, right? Try to see how fast you can mass-produce Boar suits.”

“And the contract?”

“Well, if you’re part of the joint venture, there’s no reason you can’t offer them more.”

“It’s going to be a massive demand on my time,” I sighed. “Probably for the best, though.”

“That’s what having a job is like. I trust you remember.”

I grinned. “Fair point. It’s going to throw a wrench in my plans to investigate Aldiss, though.”

“You still want to go after him?”

“He probably took bribes…”

“Or was blackmailed by the Grunters to stay silent, in return for keeping his secrets. How are your skills at forensic accounting?”

I made a face. “I don’t really have any…”

“Then this is not your quest to pursue, Andrew. Fight the battles you know how to. Leave investigating Aldiss to appropriate authorities – like, say, the FBI.”

“I told Frasier that Aldiss might be a secret inventor. Or on the take.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He nodded and said someone would look into it. And then suggested I stay out of the investigation.”

“So Agni, Frasier and I all think you should avoid getting directly involved.” Paul cracked a smile. “What does that tell you?”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

Anne walked in with a wide grin plastered across her face. “Dad, Andrew, have you seen the leaderboards?”

“Not recently. Is there news?”

“Chikaradzuyoi got called up by the Sled,” Anne said. “They released the news last night - Dr. Magnetic and Neurohawk were among the casualties of the alien attack. So there’s quite a few vacancies among the Skyguard Fifty, and new members are being inducted.”

I hadn’t known Dr. Magnetic well, but it didn’t surprise me that he’d sacrificed himself to try to stop the London attack. “Who else?”

“The Sled just left with Chikaradzuyoi, Erapthon, and Neinfricat. Leaving a bunch of vacancies at the top of the boards, and then the boffins updated the algorithm with the London data fifteen minutes ago.” Anne switched on the TV. “Alexa, leaderboards, filtered. Belessar, Nanocloud, Agni.”

The screen lit up:

RANK: 4

AGNI

ELEMENTAL, INDIA

RANK: 14

BELESSAR

INVENTOR, UNITED STATES

RANK: 6047

NANOCLOUD

INVENTOR, UNITED STATES

“You’re in the top twenty. Congratulations, Andrew.”

“That can’t be right. I’ve only been in three battles; there are ultras who’ve fought thirty or more and aren’t up there.”

“You did wipe out more aliens between the two of you than all the ultras on Earth have to date. Combined.”

“I don’t suppose we can keep this on the down-low anymore…”

“You have four hundred interview requests, by the way. And I have a hundred, although I’d rather not get in front of a camera right now.”

“A wise decision, young lady. Andrew, you’re going to have to be more careful or someone might track you down.”

“You think the garage isn’t safe any more?”

“I’m concerned someone could follow you there. Or back.”

“This sounds like a job for Teleport.”

“There is that. I keep forgetting which skills you have now; it’s hard to keep up.”

“Let’s hope I don’t run into more Rakturai, or it might become easier.”

My Unplottable Phone buzzed.

…. An unknown number? That was strange. I clicked on the speaker.

“Belessar here.”

A deep, sonorous voice filled the room. “This is Bastion.”

A thousand thoughts raced through my head.

Why was the commander of the Skyguard Fifty calling me?

How did he get my number?

“You’ve been sent a meeting invite for four o’clock tomorrow, your time. Be sure to join.”

The ‘click’ of someone hanging up.

The three of us stared at each other.

“That was Bastion,” Anne said. “TheBastion.”

“It sure sounded like him.”

“Any idea what this meeting’s about?”

“Not a clue. … Maybe he wants to know about the aliens?”

“Bastion fights aliens every week, not just thrice a year like us.”

“He didn’t figure out their names for the last twenty years, did he?”

“I think,” Paul cut in gently, “you should go in with an open mind and hear what he has to say. And Andrew?”

“Yeah?”

“Please be polite.”