Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-One: A Talk with Paul (Patreon)

The cold evening breeze ruffled through my hair as Paul and I walked along the pier.

"I'm glad you could make it to the convention," I said.

"With free instant transatlantic travel? We'd be fools to miss it," Paul chuckled. "Besides, it's good that Anne can spend some time in London without a battle going on."

"Agreed. I wanted to take her to Liverpool too, show her the place she fought for."

"Maybe you'll get a chance soon. How's the job going, by the way?"

"It's going slow."

"Not what you expected?"

"Explaining my powers to them helped a little. The NHS is working on getting together the brain matter." I sighed. "It feels…. ghoulish. Cannibalising people's body parts for a temporary boost to MP capacity."

"Medical waste, in this case, thanks to the suggestions from your colleagues. How much have you told them?"

"My skill system, how it increases with usage, and the concept of blueprints and MP. They don't know about Agility, Persuasion or Control Points, or my real identity."

"I would suggest keeping it that way. Mind control is a touchy topic."

"Agreed. I still can't bring myself to trust them thoroughly, though."

"They're colleagues, not friends, Andrew. Do the job and get out. Can they duplicate the setup once you’re done?”

“Everything except the furnace. It needs 180 MP per second to run. The good thing is, it draws the MP from me wherever I am, regardless of distance."

"That's a good thing?"

"It means that I can run the furnace continuously, without having to actually stand there. They'll run even when I'm asleep. Which means that - once the furnace is running - I can make the entire contract's worth of raw material in a day. After that, maybe a week or two to convert it into functional armor suits."

"That's good. Have you thought about the bonuses?"

"Yes." I sighed. "The same furnace can be used to forge fullersteel, by the way - fifty kilos per hour. Once I'm done with the nanofibre weave…."

"You'll start making fullersteel from the same furnace. And extra suits of Boar Armor will follow." Paul pursed his lips. "Where are you going to store them?"

"I've built extra storage under my laboratory."

"And the others don't know?"

"I haven't told them everything that's in the plans."

Paul shook his head. "You shouldn’t have to live this life of half-truths."

"It's the only way I can build enough suits. Fifty-five hundred is a drop in the bucket; we'll need millions."

"You cannot do this all by yourself, Andrew. You'll have to start getting help."

"How? I can't even risk telling them my real name."

"I honestly don't know, son."

We stared across the water for a bit, lost in our thoughts.

"Have you considered," Paul asked, "what happens when you start mass production? You'll be stockpiling millions of square metres of weave."

"We have a warehouse."

"And who has the keys? Can you tell if someone breaks in and starts pilfering?"

"Unfortunately, not. The only safeguard is that I personally assign each suit to a user right now. Which means if someone steals a suit, they can’t use it."

"Which also means you have to individually assign suits to every individual? Won’t that become a problem?”

"You have no idea…. I managed to fit twenty suits to twenty SAS operatives in a day. When it’s thousands of suits?”

“You can’t delegate that to one of your colleagues?”

“I have a component called the Armouring Tool. It can be used by someone to resize another suit to fit a new person.”

“Did you say ‘component’? As in, the things that fit onto suits?”

“That’s exactly it. To fit someone with a Boar Armour suit, you have to be wearing a Boar Armour suit yourself – and have the Armouring Tool as an active, fitted component.”

Paul frowned. "That means…."

"Whoever I give the Armouring Tool fitted suit to, could theoretically reassign any suit to someone else. Or be blackmailed into giving suits away." I took a deep breath. "I wanted to ask if you could do it."

"Me? I'm not the right person to handle ultrahuman affairs, Andrew."

"You're the right person for the corporate stuff. I'd be lost with this venture if you hadn't been holding my hand throughout. I …. would really like it if you came on board full time."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Help me make sense of this thing and get it to do what I want it to do. Join BAE-Dragonfly."

".... Leave the Association?"

"I know it's a lot to ask…"

"There's quite a few problems with that, Andrew," Paul said softly. "Do you plan on having me wear a suit and mask all the time? Otherwise, you’re essentially asking me to join in my real identity - which leads to yours, and Anne’s.”

“We could have you join without showing that you know me.”

“Andrew, how would you explain turning down a bunch of British engineers with aerospace degrees in favour of a retired American union leader?”

“If I figure out a way, will you do it?”

Paul looked away, his eyes roaming across the flowing river. “Give me a day to think about it.”