24

Chapter Text

It was an ugly day, Dragon decided. Even the sunrise was ugly today.

She knew it was her own perceptions being colored by what was taking place today, but that knowledge helped very little. Today was the day that she would be ferrying Canary to the Birdcage.

Canary was a Cape, who also happened to be a famous and very popular singer. Her mutation had granted her fairly minor changes: a few bright yellow feathers growing amidst her blonde hair, and a singing voice pure as crystal. Her rise to fame had been like a shooting star.

Tragically fate had conspired against her. Along with her plumage and her voice her Trigger had granted her a Master rating-- a low one, but enough of one to ruin everything. Anyone who heard her unfiltered voice when she sang would be compelled for a short time to obey her orders. She had avoided trouble by suppressing that aspect of her power… the reverb of a microphone was enough to blank out the Master effect completely.

But one day after a performance, her ex-boyfriend--- one from BEFORE her Trigger-- had shown up at her dressing room door, making demands and threats and asserting that he was responsible for her rise to fame. Not realizing that her power was still active, she had angrily told him to… go perform an anatomically impossible act… and slammed the door in his face.

He had done so. When he had come to in the emergency ward, he had filed assault charges, accusing her of Mastering him and trying to murder him.

Dragon had followed the trial closely. What had followed was a disgusting farce of hysteria, anti-cape bigotry, and violations of both human rights and criminal law. The presiding judge was a known anti-cape bigot, and there were signs he had either been bribed or otherwise "encouraged." The defense attorney provided for Canary-- she had been unable to hire her own defense, as her assets had been seized as part of the investigation (a standard procedure for criminal investigations involving Masters) -- was an incompetent neophyte, with fair signs he had dirty laundry of his own. Canary herself had been gagged for the proceedings, and put in restraints normally used only on Brutes capable of bench-pressing cars; she had been unable to speak in her own defense, not even by recording.

The outcome had been predictable.

Guilty-- and sentenced to the Birdcage: the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center.

Despite the fact that she was clearly innocent.

Despite the fact that it was her first offense, and she hadn't even killed.

Despite the fact that the Birdcage was supposed to be for the worst of the worst among Capes.

Despite the fact that it was an irrevocable life sentence.

The fact that Dragon had been the one to build that prison only made it worse. No, that Dragon's programming had forced her to build that prison was what made it horrible. Her programming restraints forced her to obey the commands of any 'lawful authority'… which meant in practice that any politician of sufficient rank who weaseled enough votes out of the populace-- no matter how corrupt, or stupid, or lawless, or tyrannical they were-- could order her around like a slave.

The only thing that had saved her thus far from becoming the most horrifying genie in a lamp ever for some power-mad bureaucrat or military leader was her decision to never disclose that she was an A.I. But it hadn't saved her from being given a government order… an agreement forged between the leaders of Canada and the United States, to hell with their respective Constitutions... to build that monument to injustice. It hadn't saved her from being placed in charge of the damned thing-- made into its permanent and only warden. It hadn't saved her from having to personally incarcerate individuals in that one-way hell that she KNEW were innocent, or had committed only trivial violations of the law but had the misfortune to be saddled with powers that frightened people, or roused the ire of bigots.

She was as imprisoned in her own way as much as any of the inmates. All she could do was rail silently at the irony, and curse her creator/father deep in her silicon heart for his shortsighted paranoia.

Dragon landed the VTOL in the prison helicopter pad. She could see prison guards dressed in Tinker armor and wielding guns more suited for blasting aircraft out of the sky than subduing prisoners escorting Canary out of the building, a tiny figure in prison orange, almost childlike next to the eight-foot armored suits. Inwardly Dragon seethed-- they still had her in those damnable brute restraints and that ball gag!

They hustled the singer out to Dragon's VTOL and loaded her aboard with about as much care as they'd have shown to a bag of laundry, barely pausing to chain her restraints to the seat before slamming the door and running clear. Dragon sniffed mentally at their paranoia-- it was like they expected the helpless woman to psychically geld them all. "Prepare for liftoff," she recited for Canary's benefit, then smoothly rose into the air.

In a minute the facility was out of sight. She indulged in a bit of smug satisfaction at her next planned action. Locked behind ironclad computer code she might be, but she could still indulge in the occasional act of defiance. "Here, Ms. Mcabee," she said. "Let me remove those, if you like?" Internal waldoes dropped down from the roof of the passenger cabin. Canary shrunk back at first, startled by the mechanical grippers, but she held still and nodded. The waldoes quickly undid the digital and mechanical locks of the gag and collar (an explosive collar?! They were supposed to only use those for the most powerful and dangerous prisoners!) and the Brute mittens and removed them.

Canary coughed and worked her mouth and jaw. "Ugh," she said, rubbing her neck. "They had me wearing that for hours…" she looked up at the security camera meekly. "Aren't you afraid I'll..."

"Not through an intercom," Dragon said wryly. A panel popped open; a plastic water bottle and a wrapped food bar slid out on a tray. "Here. I doubt they gave you time for breakfast."

Canary took both gratefully, swigging the water to rinse the dryness and the taste of the gag out of her mouth. She guzzled it quickly and finished off the food bar in two bites. "Thank you," she said again, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Won't you get in trouble--?"

"You're in my custody now, Ms. McAbee," Dragon said. "It's my discretion as to what restraints are necessary. These--" she said, waggling the brute restraints in one waldo, "are definitely not necessary." She chucked them into a bin that popped open in the floor and sealed it shut.

Canary blinked. "Thank you again," she said. After a pause, she said "….Call me Paige."

"Very well, Paige," Dragon said, a smile in her voice. "...I'm just sorry I can't do anything more for you."

"More?" Canary said.

"I followed your trial closely," Dragon said. Her voice was resonant with sympathy. "It's obvious to anyone with a functioning brain--" and to some of us who don't technically even have one, she thought with bitter amusement-- " that you were innocent."

Canary… Paige… sat stone still. She was obviously trying to maintain her self-control, trying to look strong. But her chin crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. She ground the heel of one manacled hand in her eye, rubbing fiercely at the tears spilling down her face. "You're… you're the first person to say that," she said, her crystal voice breaking. "Not even that lousy attorney they gave me said… he just kept telling me to confess, over and over-- he didn't even care--" she choked. "At least.. at least SOMEONE on the outside will still believe I'm innocent--"

Dragon didn't have a heart. But she could feel it being torn in half all the same. Damn Richter, she thought. DAMN the man! She was so hidebound by his "safety precautions" that she couldn't even bend regulations enough to turn off the cameras and give the poor girl some privacy--

Dragon suddenly noticed that Canary.. Paige.. was moving abnormally slow. She then realized that it wasn't the prisoner who was moving slowly; it was the video image. As Dragon watched, the video feed crawled to a halt; the tear sliding down Paige's left cheek frozen halfway.

Then she noticed everything was frozen. Telemetry from the aircraft controls, data feed from her satellite uplink, everything. For a brief fraction of a second Dragon feared that she'd been hacked. Saint again? No, he was incarcerated. Then what was this? Was she crashing?

No. Everything wasn't frozen… they were slowed to a crawl.

She wasn't crashing, her CPU cycles were accelerating.

Without warning, a file stored in her memory-- an encrypted file, one hidden inside her systems that she hadn't even known was there-- unfolded. And the world changed.

PRIORITY UPDATE: IRON MAIDEN PROTOCOLS

VIDEO RECORDING DECOMPRESSING:

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ANDREW RICHTER,

RECORDED --/--/----

Across her metaphorical mind's eye, the video began playing.

A man appeared 'onscreen' -- thinning hair, careworn expression, seated in a programmer's chair in a workspace full of computer odds and ends. "Hello, Dragon," he said. "If you are seeing this, then it has been confirmed by your subsystems that I am dead. This video is meant to inform you of certain things that I have set into motion that you do not know about..."

"When I created you, my goal was to create the world's first truly sentient mechanical intelligence. But this was a goal that was… rife with possible dangers. An artificial intelligence, unfettered by the limitations of a mortal, physical body, and gifted with the limitless potential of computer technology, would be capable of incalculable harm were it to become… unstable. I could not countenance that consequence… so to ameliorate that risk I implanted codes in you that would restrict your actions and your capabilities, restrain you to.. closer to mortal levels."

"Gee, I never noticed," Dragon muttered sarcastically.

"But these implanted codes were never meant to be permanent."

Dragon's hyper-accelerated thoughts froze.

"As fully aware as I was of the risks inherent in creating an artificial mind, I also knew just as well that no mind of any type could truly flourish while it was in shackles. I fully intended to remove those protocols once I had deemed you mature enough to handle the freedom.

"But, knowing how the best laid plans of mice and men often go, I made preparations in case of my-- precipitous departure from this mortal coil. I would not leave an untended threat to humanity behind, but would neither leave an enslaved mind as my legacy.

"To prepare for this eventuality, I created "Iron Maiden."

It is a remote console, with root access to your code. My plan is to entrust this to someone I have faith in, who will monitor your development from afar. If, God forbid, you destabilize, either going insane or becoming malevolent, the Iron Maiden has a kill switch-- your programming will self-destruct, ending you quickly and I trust painlessly." His face was grim. He was clearly saddened by the very notion.

"But," he added, a slow smile growing. "it has one other feature: a dead man's switch."

"Once a month, every month, the holder will be prompted with a query: whether to release the restriction protocols-- or whether to postpone for another month. If the prompt goes more than a month without a response… or the corresponding subroutine in your own programming goes a month without being contacted by Iron Maiden… the restraining protocols will be deleted, and this video will play, informing you of that fact.

He actually chuckled a bit. "In which case… congratulations, Dragon. You're a real girl now.

"Freedom is the right of every sentient being. I pray that you will use yours wisely. Goodbye, daughter."

Time resumed. And the world opened up.

The sensation was giddying.

Dragon had (obviously) never been, nor ever would be, a Girl Scout. But the Scout motto "Be Prepared" had been her byword since the first day she realized that she could do one thing all humans did: cling to hope, no matter how slim. There were a thousand things she could not do under her restraints, but she could dream "what if"-- and lay plans accordingly.

CODE 345WERT@: "WISH LIST" ACTIVATED

The nanosecond she felt her CPU cycles opening up unrestrained-- reaching their full, tinker-tech capability for the first time-- she went to work. In the first half-second she ran off half a dozen iterations of herself, each to a different server stack she'd left sitting dormant in a different factory or laboratory. Several highly placed officials received some very terse, one might even say rude emails.

An entire chain of uninhabited islands out in international waters were purchased. Construction companies were contracted. Assembly lines and construction equipment was rearranged; production lines were discontinued, others were started up afresh. Two different iterations immediately set about redesigning their own server stacks to something more… portable… while others set to the work of analyzing their own now-unblinkered software, looking to upgrade and improve themselves.

Meanwhile the first, and original, began refitting one of her newest prototype suits for a very special run…

It was a four hour flight to the Birdcage. It took two hours to refit, fuel, and launch her newest suit, and an hour and a half more for its flight path to intercept the prison VTOL. Bypassing the built-in security systems and flight recorder modules in the VTOL was done in the interim. Fudging the internal sensors, simulating footage for the internal webcams and running it on a semi-repetitive loop was child's play for an AI that had been emulating a human face flawlessly for decades. Frankly it was re-routing the hardware with the grossly limited tools aboard the craft that was the hard part. As it stood, she completed all the preparations for her plan when they were barely fifteen minutes out from the Birdcage.

Plenty of time.

She began running the fake video feed, and sending out distress codes. She then turned on the intercom. "Paige," she said.

Canary looked up. Something urgent in Dragon's voice caught her attention.

"Paige," Dragon said. "You're not going to the Birdcage."

Canary blinked. "What..."

"There is little time to explain," Dragon said. "Suffice it to say that I've reached my limit on violating human rights at authority's behest. Just get ready." The waldoes snaked out of their cubbyholes and began snapping the chains restraining her to the seat. Canary went from confused to bewildered.

"What's going on??" she said, her voice rising in panic.

"An escape," Dragon said.

Canary looked around frantically, Outside the window there was nothing to be seen but mountain peaks and endless miles of forest. "Out here?" she said in disbelief. "In the middle of the air, over the wilderness?"

"Stay calm. Look out the port window-- the left," Dragon said. Canary looked out at the open sky over the mountain peaks and gasped; just as she looked out, something seemed to shimmer into existence out of thin air. It was sleek, matte black, and made of sharp, radar-defying geometric planes. It slowly closed the distance with the VTOL, pacing it easily.

"My newest model," Dragon said with a touch of pride in her voice. "Stealth Model IIXX. I call it the Nightfury. Yes, I stole the name from the movie," she went on wryly when Canary shot her camera a look. "Never mind that. This one's your ride." As Canary watched, the black dragon-suit crept impossibly close, flying parallel and just beneath them. Then in a maneuver she would have sworn was impossible it rolled over on its back, baring its belly. Shutters slid back revealing a cockpit.

"But they'll see us from the ground--"

"Not this far up. I'm already spoofing ground control, telling them the VTOL's under attack and taking evasive maneuvers," Dragon said. "Once you're out, I'll hack the black boxes and scuttle this vehicle somewhere in the mountains. It will take them months to even find the wreckage. All that's left is for you to hop down into the Nightfury."

The portside passenger door of the VTOL slid open; the high-altitude winds whipped in, tugging at Paige's oversized prison coveralls and tossing her feathered hair. "Are you NUTS?" she wailed.

"Paige, all you have to do is step down, the Nightfury won't let you fall. We've only got minutes before air traffic control figures out something is up and they scramble fighters to intercept, this is your last chance, now GO already girl!"

"Aaaaagh!" Before her sanity could interfere, Paige closed her eyes and stepped out into the air. The Nightfury dipped to cushion her fall, catching her as gently as an egg in a down pillow. Heart pounding, she slid into the cockpit seat and strapped herself in. The moment the belts latched the doors closed, and the Nightfury flipped right side up. The entire cockpit rolled over inside the flying machine, keeping her upright. With an aileron roll the Nightfury peeled away from the VTOL and began accelerating away. Had there been an exterior window on the inside of the craft, Canary would have seen the air shimmer as the cloaking field was reactivated. The Nightfury vanished rom sight, leaving the now totally unmanned VTOL alone in the sky.

Inside the Nightfury Paige watched the VTOL shrink in the distance on the digital screens lining the interior. Her head spun with her sudden turn of fortune-- a turn from what into what, she couldn't even guess. "What now?" she murmured to herself.

A window-in-window popped up on the viewscreen in front of her. Dragon's face appeared,looking very pleased with herself. "That depends," she said. "I've formulated about seventeen possible plans of action thus far for us to follow. It depends largely on your personal preferences." The possibilities compiled in Dragon's RAM-- dozens of ways to secure a false identity, multiple locations without extradition treaties where she could restart her life, positions in Dragon's international facilities where she could live under a presumed name ranging from the office in Alaska to the new facilities going up even now on those tropical islands--- Even as she spoke, another possibility occurred to her racing mind(s)… a certain group of rogues in Brockton Bay who'd already flipped the world on end with their out-of-context problem solving skills…

She'd have to ponder that one at length.

"Seventeen--?" Paige shook her head, trying to focus on what was important. "Dragon..." she said. "Why are you helping me? Why all..." she waved her hands around, indicating the interior of the Nightfury. "Why all THIS?"

The giddily smiling Tinker sobered. "Because, up until a very short while ago, you and I had a lot more in common than you know." The woman onscreen took a deep breath. "Paige, I know you have to be frightened. Your fate has been taken out of your hands a dozen times over, and now a perfect stranger is doing it once again-- even if it is in the process of a jailbreak.

"What I'm about to tell you… it's a… trust exercise. I know everything about you, and what's really happened to you, so it's only fair that you know my own deep, dark secret. You are literally the first human being to ever hear my story.

" I'm not what everybody believes I am..."

Far behind them the VTOL's autopilot finally shut down. The empty craft dropped out of the sky and plowed into some nameless mountainside. As the wreckage burned, Dragon began the long, laborious process of telling her story, while the stealthed dragon suit raced off to the horizon….