Jonathan Atkinson was driving the morning briefing, along with the three Professionals that had been picked for this particular option. And the first thing he did was to push papers toward the people present.
“That’s the summary of the intelligence that came with the mail packet.”
“Feels funny to get that information on Sims along with the man himself,” John Blackeye noted.
“There isn’t much more than we already have, but I hope you’ll get the opportunity to refine your respective approaches,” Atkinson countered.
“Now, we narrowly avoided a catastrophe. What was that man doing there?” he added, somewhat angrily.
“His job, mostly,” Sylvia Underwood replied.
“You were supposed to be entertaining him, not let a journalist sandbag him,” the man replied, obviously pissed.
“Relax, Atkinson. That man allowed me a perfect introduction, and besides, he dug some tidbits. I did overhear the interview, and you’ll get the full report before they even run the interview in the newspaper, but that’s still more information. Journalists make the best intelligence agents because they are totally shameless,” she countered.
Atkinson sighed, obviously still miffed at the perspective.
“I guess so. At least it’s a serious newspaper, not some scandal rag. So, what you got?”
“A good start. I would have rather worked out with the Hospitaler – which is not a tier two anymore, by the way. Swapping professional tricks, giving useful hints with that wasting sister your files say he has. Not that it works, really, but still. Sims is a good boy, still naïve and all that. Well balanced, very predictable. I would have hated to face their… what do they call it… mudlark? A hobo like that Raby cares only about the Labyrinth, people are a distant second. It makes them very hard to get to relate to you.”
“But you got Sims to talk, right?” Atkinson pressed.
“He’s been at least somewhat correctly briefed, I think. I didn’t push, and he didn’t talk that much about what he’s looking for in this trip. He probably would rather be back in the Labyrinth with his team. Which, by the way, might be a good bribe: promise him to let him enter the Labyrinth, he can Recall straight home, you wouldn’t make him happier.”
“What? We’re not about to let him touch the Gate. Not unless we can ensure he’s not mucking with it,” he replied hastily.
“Well, keep that idea around. But while I was finding his life’s history, I could fish out details about the Professional specifics.”
She turned toward Blackeye, asking, “Did you spot it?”
“What are you talking about,” Atkinson said, worried.
“I am referring at The Skill,” she said, putting emphasis on the words.
John Blackeye frowned, then suddenly made the connection. Seeing his obvious discomfort, Sylvia laughed.
“Skill. Fire Funnel,” he said.
“What are you two talking about?” Atkinson immediately asked.
“Jonas Sims has a ranked skill that’s not common. Completely missed it,” Blackeye explained.
“If, by not common, you meant ‘never ever seen by any American Professional’, sounds correct,” she added with a dose of snark.
“Stop it!”, Atkinson nearly screamed, slamming his hands on the desk.
“So, I got the story from Sims yesterday. Turns out that a Professional with that Adaptation Milestone can learn skills from gear,” she explained.
Then, seeing Atkinson’s confused look, she went further, “Professionals learn skills in their respective skill spheres by practice and chance. There have been a few pathways found to ease your chances, but basically, you need to put yourself in the right circumstances to unlock one. Once you’ve done so, you can improve it, but until you’ve done it, even knowing it exists doesn’t help you that much. Gear that improves your skills doesn’t improve what you do not have.”
She then added with a wide smile.
“That is, unless you Adapt to things. Then you just find a piece of gear with the right type of skill you want, put it for a few seconds, and blam. You have a new skill.”
“You can’t acquire skills ahead of your tier,” Blackeye countered.
“Unless you’re Jonas Sims. Or one of his friends – he mentioned that nearly everyone in his team did so at least once. Most of them on known easy skills, of course, but he did manage to acquire a skill that no Professional got yet.”
“You are… not reassuring me, Miss Underwood. It’s already slightly worrying that he might be able to affect Gates. If he can drain skills from Professional equipment…”
“He’s not. It’s like being able to access the equipment descriptors is enough for him to figure out how it works.”
“Still, if he’s got not who knows how many additional abilities…”
“And that’s why I’m here, Atkinson. To find out what he can do. And that’s what I am doing.”
The Gate Office manager fell silent. The Professional stayed silent as well, letting him get back on his footing.
“So. What’s the program for today?”
“I’m letting him stew a bit. I’ll be back tonight to help him unwind from the day,” Sylvia said, turning to John Blackeye.
“And I got a good opportunity. I’ll be with him all afternoon if I can manage it and drag him all over town. I don’t know how long we can distract his staff. At least keep his lieutenant busy,” he said, looking toward the third Professional who had stayed silent during the entire debrief.
“I can do that. That will make me getting introduced to Sims look more natural since his chief of staff will do the honour.”
“Then let’s do it, people. And I have to remind you that the Secretary wants to find out what the British really want from our Gate, not just weird skills.”
The three Professional acknowledged their orders and stood, preparing themselves for their day.
“I’m beginning to regret involving her,” Atkinson said, looking meaningfully at John Blackeye.
“She’s a bit too mercenary and not enough respectful, you mean?” the tier seven replied.
“She’s a loose cannon…”
“She’s good for anything short term, but she’s bad long-term. I know that,” he interrupted.
“Then why did you suggest…”
“Because she’s going to dig until she strikes the mother lode. I know she’s unreliable. Working in seven different teams in nine – nearly ten – years speak for themselves, even accounting for her youth. But that’s for the long term. I’m slightly worried now about whether or not she’s a bit more interested in what she can wring from Jonas Sims per se rather than mission, but she’ll do the job.”
“Interested about Sims? What do you mean? She’s supposed to seduce him…”
“She’s found interesting new tidbits pertaining to the Labyrinth. And she might find getting access to at least some of that more interesting than whatever money she can squeeze from the Gate Office.”
“Can she get… that Adaptation thing?”
“No idea. And the intelligence you got from the British isn’t enough to shed light about it. But what’s interesting is that, without the Adaptation Milestones, Jonas Sims could not be a Professional. At all.”
“What do you mean? He’s one.”
“But he does not qualify. Done the math, based on Milestones and gear, once that I could access those. He had not a single Potential at 18 before the Labyrinth. At all. Whatever happened with that French assault did something very special. And if it happened, maybe it can be done again.”
“They can make more of those special Professionals, you think?”
“More like making Professionals, period. If you can figure out how to make anyone a Professional at will…”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“The Secretary should never have accepted that offer,” Atkinson complained.
“It would change nothing. Not having Sims around wouldn’t change his abilities.”
He then added, half-joking to tease the Secretary’s deputy. “At least I don’t think so.”
The biggest surprise when Jonas came for breakfast was that the hotel room was nearly empty. After the busy bar and restaurant of yesterday, he’d expected more people. But either they woke up at very different times, or everyone left this morning, or the hotel had set aside an entire room for their breakfast. Well, probably not the latter, since there were at least a few people seated here and there.
At least, he spotted his staff. The three cavalry officers were already seated at one of the largest tables, and he joined them.
“Morning, Lieutenant. Ensigns,” he greeted everyone.
He had barely sat when a waiter came with a pitcher and a cardboard with a selection of menus. Jonas started pouring and immediately stopped seeing the black sludge coming out.
“Ah. Yes. They don’t serve tea, they have a fetish for coffee, apparently. You have to ask for it if you want tea,” Bollen explained.
“At least it is decent, though,” one of the ensigns – Ahern – added helpfully.
“It’s still more than what you usually do while in the Labyrinth,” Jonas admitted. He tasted the black beverage, made a grimace, and concluded, “I think I’ll stick to tea.”
After ordering tea and picking a breakfast formula more or less at random from the menu, Jonas turned back to the staff.
“So, anything for today?”
“No Sir, probably not. I’m supposed to get picked and go to the Gate Office headquarters to try to negotiate a protocol for you. Which means I will probably get to see the Gate itself, so if there is anything you need me to look specifically on it, the location, whatever…” Bollen said.
“Nothing specific. Strictly speaking, I just need a look, that’s it. Unless there’s something totally unforeseen that happens.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind; anything else? Distance, people using it, anything like that?”
“No. Two-three hundred feet max. I don’t know exactly how far I need to be, but that’s what I remember being necessary.”
“What will you be doing meanwhile?” the lieutenant inquired.
“No idea. I’ll change into something less conspicuous and maybe try to visit. I’m sure the Pathmaker will be around to keep me in his sights.”
“The Pathmaker?”
“The Professional that was there when we arrived.”
“Ah. Yes, makes sense. Well, Ahern or Manning – or both, actually – will be around to accompany you.”
“Thanks,” Jonas said as the breakfast and tea finally arrived.
“You look good. Almost American,” John Blackeye said as Jonas arrived in the hotel’s lobby.
“That tailor of yours is good,” Jonas admitted.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to use that as a commercial argument. ‘Purveyor of the British Professionals outside the Labyrinth’. Or some such.”
“Am I so much of a celebrity?”
“As far as I know, until this year, no British Professional ever set foot on American soil. Maybe you’re not the first, but you’re probably going to be at least noteworthy. I’d assume you are pretty famous in your country.”
Jonas half winced, remembering the newspaper articles from Bollen.
“That much?” the Pathmaker said, obviously noticing Jonas’ reaction.
“You admire Professionals and dream of them… then you become the people everyone’s talking about and you’re starting to worry.”
The two Professionals stepped out of the hotel, along with Ensign Ahern. The cavalry officer was going to act as Jonas’ kind of bodyguard. Although Jonas had his doubt about that. Blackeye would be able to deter anyone attempting something, and if a tier seven decided to go berserk and attack Jonas, neither he nor the cavalry ensign would be able to do much. Jonas assumed that all of his gear would be available as a Puppet set, and he’d be able to slaughter a lowly 73 Aethershaper.
“So… what do you have to show me?” Jonas asked.
“A lot. Well, maybe not that much. New York is a pretty new town, and it probably does not hold a candle to your London. We have… what? A hundred thousand people altogether living here?”
Jonas thought quickly.
“I have no idea how many live back home. A million? Maybe? London is big.”
“Well, New York is big too, just less so. It’s mostly around the port anyway. That’s why everyone comes here – it’s a huge commerce centre for the entire States. State commerce, interstate commerce, transatlantic trade, it all comes here.”
“The port of London is pretty busy too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Blackeye admitted.
They slowly started out, going toward the port area. Jonas could see lots of people coming and going, despite the chilly afternoon. But what struck him most was the straight streets and right angles. Those were a far cry from his native Covent Garden mazes or the winding streets of Waterloo.
Although, now that Jonas was looking at those, it did remind him a bit of the streets of Gatepost. There were narrower and larger streets, but they made something of a grid, not too unlike this New York.
“It might not be London, but it is pretty busy”, he admitted on his own.
“There’s some serious talk about making it the official capital again. It was already huge in economic terms twenty years ago, and the Federal Gate on the island did put an even bigger effect. Lots of people arguing that the entrance to the Labyrinth should be the most important figure in the government. So, of course, everyone is dragging their heels and saying that the mere fact of the Labyrinth should not dictate how the United States should run themselves.”
“Ah. What do you think?”
“Me? Nothing. I’m not a federal employee, despite what it might look like. I work the Labyrinth. I’m just called out when there’s a big problem, like a team of five Professionals that want some Fast Travel access where they do not belong, or a bunch of British professionals stomping on teams working on their tier three zone access. Or you.”
“I would have thought you were someone pretty big in the American Gate management.”
“You can either ply the Labyrinth and get your levels, Milestones and access, or you can work for the Gate Office. You won’t find any high tier Professional working permanently for the government,” the Pathmaker replied.
Jonas found the logic compelling. People around Gatepost working in “normal” jobs were all relatively low levels. You might retire and work on something else, but with less than twenty years since the Labyrinth opened, there would be very few who had been pushing themselves in the progression and then stopped.
They ambled slowly down the streets until they suddenly reached the port. Blackeye pointed out the quays and warehouses dotting the area, which were as busy as he’d hinted.
And he was right. In his civilian clothes, nobody paid attention to him. He looked as American as anyone else.
Jonas’ Focus missed the arrival of Sylvia Underwood. The only notice he got was when she flopped onto a chair next to his table, put down her own glass from the bar stand, and gave him a huge smile.
“So, how goes the most British of Professionals in New York?”
Before he could even answer, she pulled out and slid a newspaper. Jonas spotted the Evening Post masthead.
“You did make the front page, after all.”
“At least they didn’t try to make a picture of me,” he replied.
“Picture?”
“Newspaper home tried to draw pictures of the team. It would probably have been more truthful if they’d made pictures of some random Gate guard.”
Jonas started reading the story. Compared to some of the embellishments that The Observer from London had spouted, the journalist had been nearly… truthful. Things about the science of the Labyrinth, and the questions, and all that seemed relatively non-sensational. There were still speculations about how Jonas and the Professionals intended to get “revenge” on the French and other fantasies, but the tone did suggest that the interrogations were from the journalist himself, rather than anything he had said himself.
Then, he noticed the date, and his spirits sank. Sylvia noticed that immediately.
“Something bad in the article?”
“No… it’s just that it’s Friday, and there’s a week to Christmas, and two to the New Year. And I realize that I’m probably not getting back anytime soon. Your Gate Office is being absolutely pig-headed for no good reason.”
“Hey, it’s not MY Gate Office. I avoid getting there as much as I can. But I can understand the frustration. I’m still waiting for my ship.”
“Oh? I thought you used the hotel while… I don’t know, waiting for your next expedition in the Labyrinth.”
“Nope. One of my aunts has been pestering me for years to come down now that I’m a big Professional. And it’s either spend many weeks on horse and coaches or two weeks of ship travel along the coast. Easy choice. Except that ships always get delayed, so you’re stuck waiting for the right one. Mine was supposed to be there yesterday, and there is no news. So I wait.”
“Well, I suppose it is something no one can’t do anything about. Me, I could be finished in five minutes and headed back to England if they just agreed.”
“That fast? And you came all the way from England for five minutes? What can you do in five minutes?”
“Look at the Gate descriptor.”
“What Gate descriptor? There’s no Gate descriptor, just a notification if you’re prevented from…” Sylvia’s voice trailed. “Except there is, isn’t it?”
“You haven’t heard about it?”
“No. What are you talking about?”
Jonas started to explain about the Gate shutdown.
“Wait a minute. You are telling me that there is a descriptor saying what the Gate does, and non-Professionals can see it? Like, is that possible?”
“While the Gate was shut down, anyone was seeing it. Professional, mundanes, anyone that got close enough could see it, the same as you see a creature’s descriptor. So Babbage thinks the Gate… actively suppress it. We’re not supposed to see Gate Descriptors, so it hides them from view. And because the Gate was disabled or damaged, that part of the Labyrinth mechanisms failed. Until we restarted the Gate.”
Sylvia immediately caught the unsaid assumption.
“But that does not apply to you. You still can see the hidden descriptors. Am I right?”
“Yes. And Babbage wants to see… well, he wants to know your Gate number,” Jonas started to explain.
Sylvia was leaning back in her comfy bar chair, lips pursed in deep thought.
“That’s… one impressive bag of an interesting heap of ideas,” she finally said;
“It’s all speculations, and the Colonial Gate descriptor is not going to give all the answers, but it may help to discover important bits of the Labyrinth. Like additional Gates. And that’s why I am here. Because there are only six people who can answer that one.”
“Well, you are making me jealous. Again. Unlocking skills for free, using secret descriptors. I’m even starting to hope my ship doesn’t dock until you’ve seen it. Just so that I get to know what the Gate says.”
John Blackeye noted from his corner of the lobby the departing figure of Sims, headed toward his room, and stayed put. He did not have to wait long before Underwood emerged from the bar after a reasonable delay. Unlike Jonas, she immediately spotted him and made a beeline.
“Probably got the goods.”
“You do?”
“It sounds at least plausible. Impossible, of course, but we’re talking about people that shouldn’t exist.”
She then added, “I even have a good plan. Atkinson will love it.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Bah, the man is a control freak. That’s why he even ordered this operation.”
“Wait, you want what? Smuggle him in the Gate square at night? Are you insane? You want to…” Jonathan Atkinson sputtered.
“Even if you agree to get him to see the Gate descriptor, what guarantee do you have that you’ll get the real goods. We know the descriptor of London since you even have it drawn in the Times from back in August, but there’s no way to be sure of what he’ll see. He can tell you ‘okay, your gate is 112, that’s too bad’ and we couldn’t even know if it is number one or four hundred.”
“And if it is a feint and he wants to disable the Gate?”
“If he makes a move… how many tiers six do you have ready to Fire Bolt him?” she replied before shrugging.
“No, trust me. He’s genuine. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t lie to you, but the woman who gives him want he wants under cover of night? So you keep stonewalling him, I’m solving his problems, he’s happy.”