Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Six: Missing People

After Kalachakra and the general had left, I spent a long time thinking. 

The ambush had added another mystery to my ever-growing list. 

Why were the Hierarchy attacking the Earth Defence Bases in particular? What did we have there that could threaten them?

Why did the aliens unleash a timed plague on us? Economic warfare, or something more sinister?

Why would a group of humans attack lifesaving supplies? Greed, politics, or something else?

Why were people disappearing across the world, and how did Porcupine’s brother fit into it?

There was nothing I could do to answer the first question. Or the second. The third, well, I had been essentially told to ‘sit back and wait’.

But the fourth?

That I could do something about. 

Pulling out my tablet, I began to compose a message to Porcupine.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If there is an advantage to fame - or to notoriety - it lies in how swiftly people return your calls.

Porcupine had agreed to a meeting within minutes. The next morning, she reached the BAE-Dragonfly office prompt and early, at nine-thirty.

As the Herculean entered my office, she paused. “I can come back if you need a few minutes?”

“Why would I need a few minutes?”

“Your, er, helmet is on the table.” Her tone was filled with trepidation. 

I grinned. “My secret identity is not very secret these days. Besides, I don’t think I have anything to fear from you, do I?”

Porcupine seemed to almost imperceptibly stiffen. “As you say, sir.”

RELATIONSHIP WITH PORCUPINE IS NOW SUSPICIOUS (-1).

… wait, what?

Trying to break the ice, I spoke. “You can call me Belessar or Andrew. I don’t go by ‘sir’.”

If anything, she seemed to grow more wary. “Sure, Belessar.”

This wasn’t going well. Was she afraid of me? If so, why had she asked for my help? 

Had someone happened between the Gymkhana speech and today that threw her off? Something to make her nervous?

The only thing that came to mind was - the ambush.

Was she nervous because - she was connected to the ambushers? It made no sense.

Then again, the entire ambush had made no sense. And would continue to do so until we figured out the attackers’ motive - at which point it would make perfect sense. 

There was one way to find out. 

One way that would be sure - as sure as I could reasonably be - that the ultra sitting across from me wasn’t a traitor. And it only cost Control Points, so if needed - I could subdue her afterwards. Five thousand MP enabled a lot of subduing.

Without hesitation, I invoked Observe - and then called Detect Enemy.

A thousand CP burned, the skill doing its job.

PORCUPINE

FACTION: NONE

RELATIONSHIPS: 

WITH YOU: SUSPICIOUS (-1).

GOVERNMENT OF INDIA: NEUTRAL (0). LACK OF RESPONSE TO HER BROTHER’S DISAPPEARANCE HAS ERODED LOYALTY.

HIERARCHY: ENMITY (-5). PORCUPINE IS NO TRAITOR TO MANKIND. SHE IS WILLING TO FIGHT THE HIERARCHY, THOUGH SHE INTENDS TO LEVERAGE HER SERVICES TO GAIN HIGHER PRIORITY FOR HER BROTHER.

TEST OF PERCEPTION: PASSED.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION AVAILABLE.

EMOTIONAL STATE: DESPERATE, AFRAID.

PORCUPINE HAS APPROACHED OTHER ULTRAS BEFORE.

SOME HAVE REBUFFED HER. OTHERS HAVE SOUGHT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HER DESPERATION.

PORCUPINE HAS UNRESOLVED TRAUMA FROM A PAST EXPERIENCE WHICH IS MANIFESTING NOW.

PORCUPINE’S PAST EXPERIENCE INVOLVED AN UNMASKED ULTRA.

PORCUPINE’S TRAUMA STEMS FROM A POWERFUL, UNMASKED ULTRA WHO SOUGHT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HER DESPERATION.

Crap. Without knowing, I’d walked into an emotional minefield. 

An unmasked ultra had tried to take advantage of Porcupine, and I was unintentionally mirroring their behaviour. No wonder her relationship status had shifted to ‘Suspicious’. I wasn’t naive enough to miss the signs any more, not with my power beating me on the head with glowing white letters (quite literally, as it were). How does one handle a situation like this….?

Wordlessly, I opened my drawer and pulled out a photograph. 

After the insane interview with Logan Michaels, Agni had agreed to a photograph of us. Me in my usual black nanofibre weave, Agni in her old - highly distinctive - costume. It was one of the few photographs I had of the two of us.

I’d framed it as a reminder of happier times. Now, I took it out and placed it on the desk. 

“This was us,” I said. “Back when we were happy. She didn’t approve of my going to the interview, but when I was floundering, she jumped right in to help.”

Porcupine’s stance visibly relaxed. “You loved her.”

“Still do. The pain doesn’t ever go away, but it gets better. A little less sharp every day.” I looked Porcupine in the eye. “You were - are - close to your brother.”

The heroine nodded. “I know the chances of finding him are slim. But if it was her … you’d want to know.”

RELATIONSHIP WITH PORCUPINE IMPROVED TO NEUTRAL (0).

BONUS EFFECT FROM HIGH CHARISMA: RELATIONSHIP WITH PORCUPINE IMPROVED TO SYMPATHETIC (1).

Sometimes, I hate how intrusive my power gets. 

“Yes, I’d want to know.”

Porcupine nodded. “You said you’d help if I signed up. For alien defences.”

“I will help. You know there are no guarantees.”

“I know.”

“Did you approach anyone else?”

“Many people…. nobody cares about a low-end Herculean with a funny name. I don’t have a lot of money, and my powers - the best I can do is lift a car or a truck with one hand. What I can do isn’t enough to make it worth anyone’s time to help.” 

“You’re worth my time,” I said. “Any person who needs help is. I can’t help everyone, and I have to ration my time, but your case - well, I’m interested.”

Porcupine swallowed. “I appreciate it.”

“You want to know why, I take it.”

“... honestly, yes. My powers aren’t that special.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about powers,” I said cautiously, “it’s that no two are exactly the same. Each has a twist. Pure enhanced strength probably has some additional components to it - ones which we haven’t figured out yet. If we can, you’d be a much stronger hero.”

“... did that happen to you?”

I shook my head. “My powers are different. While I might be able to help you with understanding yours later, we should focus on the investigation first.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I assume you’ve already spoken to the police, and they turned up nothing?”

“Correct.”

“Is there a reason you came to me instead of, say, Nyaybandhu? Isn’t he a superpowered detective?”

“I …. haven’t approached Nyaybandhu as an ultra,” Porcupine said. “And, well, he has a really long backlog for cases involving normal people. Tens of thousands, actually.”

“Why not approach him as an ultra and jump the queue?”

“... I’d have to disclose my identity.”

“Porcupine - you’d have to do that with me too. I need a starting point, like a name and photographs of your brother.”

“I understand,” Porcupine sighed. “I though about it… the truth is, what if Nyaybandhu’s the villain himself?”

“Do you have a reason to suspect him?”

“I have no idea what happened, Belessar. I don’t know Nyaybandhu, and he doesn’t know me. I… don’t necessarily trust him with my secret identity.” She hesitated. “But… I could trust you. I thought about it… if I have to tell someone my identity, who better than, well, you?”

“If you’re comfortable.”

TEST OF CHARISMA PASSED.

Porcupine took a deep breath, then pulled off her mask. 

Beneath the mask, the ultrahuman was a moderately attractive young woman, with a slender face and short-cropped black hair. Her eyes showed signs of tiredness.

“My name is Anahita Venkat,” the girl said. “I’m a second-year economics student at St. Xavier’s College. My brother, Prajyot Venkat, had enrolled for the first-year course at Singhgad Academy of Engineering in Pune. He took the bus from home to Pune to get to the college, but never made it there. Vanished somewhere in between.”

“I see. Did the police say anything?”

“Asked me if he had a girlfriend who he’d run away with.”

“What about your parents? What’s their view?”

“Our parents died in the Andamans attack in 2078,” Anahita said. “For the last few years, it’s been just me and Prajyot living with our uncle and aunt. They’re not super keen on having us, either.”

“Why is that?”

“Before he died, my dad was fighting a court case against his brother - my uncle - for a share of the ancestral property. They weren’t on the best of terms.” Anahita shrugged. “One of the conditions of our being looked after by them was that the case had to be dropped, and we had to sign away any rights to the old house.”

“Your uncle and aunt don’t know you have powers, then.”

Anahita rolled her eyes. “They’d want me to go fight aliens if they did. Earn the ten thousand dollars an hour, tax-free, and turn it over to them. No thanks.”

“I understand. Do you still live with them?”

Anahita shook her head. “I have my own place now. Sharing with my bestie from school. Vasu’s the only other person who knows I have powers. We were going to have Prajyot move in, once he finished college.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. You do understand the odds, right?”

“I know, Belessar,” Anahita sighed. “I’ve read the statistics. Chances of a missing person being alive after seventy-two hours drop drastically. He’s been missing for nearly six months now…. I just want to know what happened. And if there’s a chance - any chance - to find him, then I want that.”

Not for the first time, I wondered if I should be doing this. 

I wasn’t a detective. I had a metric ton of things that needed to be done, ranging from more missiles to make to getting the Leopard up and running to managing the distribution of Aerovascar. There were better investigators than me out there, including those with powers focused on unearthing mysteries. 

So why did my power want me to pursue this? Why had the quest ‘Find the Missing Children’ appeared in my log, in the first place?

Why did I have to get involved?

A thought came to me, a memory from the past. Agni’s words, describing who I was.

Belessar. Supreme Commander of Ultrahuman forces, leader of the defence of Earth.

A leader is the one you turn to when all else has failed. 

Right now, there was a woman before me. Someone who saw me as her leader. Her last resort of hope.

I couldn’t find it in me to crush that.

“I’ll help you,” I said. “I can’t promise anything, but I will give it a try.”

Her eyes brimmed with hope. “Thank you, Belessar.”

“Now, tell me everything you can about your brother. Every possible detail.”

“Prayjot and I were born in Mumbai,” Anahita began. “Dad was a hotel chef. Seafood specialist. We had a small flat in Andheri, near the hotel where my Dad worked. We moved to Chennai in 2072, when my Dad got a job at Fisherman’s Cove - the hotel - and then to the Andamans in 2076 with the Welcomegroup Hotel. We stayed there for a couple of years till the attack happened. After the evacuation we moved in with my aunt and uncle in Mumbai.”

“Where do they live?”

“A place called Seven Bungalows - it’s not too far from where we grew up. My aunt, uncle and cousin live there, and we got the guest room.” She paused. “They wanted us out as soon as possible, though.”

“Why?”

“It’s a small apartment. Plus my aunt kept complaining about how much it cost to feed us.”

“... You’re kidding.”

“That’s sort of who she is. Prajyot would get mad and storm off from the dinner table sometimes. Like I said, we wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.”

“Were they hard up for money?”

Anahita rolled her eyes. “They live in a three-bedroom in Seven Bungalows. You have to be in the top one per cent to afford that.”

“And - your aunt still complained about how much you ate?”

“She complained about everything, actually. How much it cost to send us to school, to college, to pay for our books and clothes… sometimes several times a day. We both hated it. Prajyot wanted to come with me when I went to college, but obviously he couldn’t stay in a girls’ dorm. His college had a hostel; he was pretty happy to get away from that house.”

“Did the police retrace his steps? Did they find out if he got on the bus at all, or got down somewhere in between?”

“They did. He got on the bus, but there’s no information about when he got off, or where. The police suggested that he might have run off with a girlfriend.”

“... Do you think that’s possible?”

“He didn’t have any girlfriends. He would have told me.”

“Did he know about your powers?” 

Anahita bit her lip. “I planned to tell him later - once he was settled in college and I’d had time. My roommate’s the only one who knows - and she found out by accident.”

“Did she know the bus Prajyot was on?”

The ultra gave me a blank look. “She didn’t. Vasundhara wouldn’t do that.”

“Vasundhara being?”

“My roommate. She’s in her second year of fashion design.”

I considered, for a moment, the possibility that Anahita’s roommate might have a reason to abduct or ‘disappear’ her brother. Then dismissed it. There was such a thing as being too paranoid. 

“And she lost her mother a couple of years ago,” Anahita was saying, with a degree of heat suffusing her words, “so she understands what it’s like…”

I held up a hand. “I don’t think your roommate had anything to do with it. Was there anyone else who you think might have known about your powers? Or known Prajyot’s bus schedule, or both?”

“Nobody that I can think of.”

“Very well. Can you give me some photos of Prajyot, his social media handles, the bus details, and the address of the police station where you filed a report?”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Pimpri Police Station was located in Pune, a hundred and fifty kilometres from Mumbai. Three hours by road. 

With eight Synthesis Furnaces running at full capacity in Farnsborough, my effective regen was reduced from its base of 568 to a mere 168. I’d long since accustomed the BAE-Dragonfly team to pause the Furnaces when I went into combat - lord knows I needed the full regen then - but doing so for a trip didn’t seem appropriate.

In any case, it took me less than twenty minutes and thirty portals to reach the police station. Faster than arranging a cab. 

A LOT faster than driving, especially considering Indian traffic. 

The police station was a nondescript little building by the side of the road. The portal that let me though startled a vegetable vendor, but the rest of the passers-by barely gave it a glance, except for a couple who started snapping selfies with my portal in the background. 

Hardly anyone paid me any attention. Then again, I was dressed in nanofibre weave, sans helmet (easily stored in inventory for emergencies). 

Walking into the station, I was surprised by the apparent lack of cops. There was one guy seated at a desk, chewing tobacco and perusing a tablet with the lazy indolence of a civil servant who knows they can’t be fired.

Also, the man had his uniform jacket unbuttoned, and - good grief - a bright white vest showing. Somehow I didn’t think that was part of the official dress code. 

Seeing no-one else, I tapped on the desk. “Hi, I’d like some help.”

The cop ignored me.

I tapped again, harder. “Help, please? Can I speak to Missing Persons?”

The policeman snorted, then looked up balefully. “Foreigner, are you?” 

“... Yes. I’m here about a missing person.”

“You want to file an FIR?”

“A what?”

The cop rolled his eyes. “A First Information Report. You want to file one?”

I shook my head. “I’m here to inquire about someone who’s already been reported missing. Prajyot Venkat.”

“Who’s he to you?”

“A friend. I wanted to find out if there was any new information about the case?”

“If there is information, you will be called.” The policeman went back to staring at his tablet. 

“Excuse me. Is there someone I can talk to?”

This time, the policeman put down his tablet and stared at me. “Lower your voice, mister. This isn’t your… father’s house. This is a police station.”

“... I’m just asking for information.”

The cop paused, then put a file on the desk. An honest-to-goodness paper file.

Curious, I opened it. Inside was a flyer for a restaurant.

“You can visit there,” the cop replied. 

I blinked. “How will that help?”

The policeman smirked. “You should make some local friends. Come back later. Boss is out now.” Slowly, he took back the file. “And also, dress properly. Those fake fashion things won’t do you any good.”

… fake fashion? 

The cop had gone back to his tablet. Sighing, I walked out of the station. 

<Belessar>: Anne - how current are you with fashion?

<Nanocloud>: Not very but I can ask Flavia, she knows these things. Why?

<Belessar>: Someone just saw me in nanofibre weave and called it ‘fake fashion’.

<Nanocloud>: Let me check. Where are you?

<Belessar>: Pune. Following up on the missing children thing. Sort of.

<Nanocloud>: What happened?

<Belessar>: I had a bizarre experience at the police station. The desk officer told me to go to a restaurant and make some local friends.

<Nanocloud>: …. Local friends?

<Belessar>: I have a feeling I’m missing something important here. Who do we know who’s local?

<Nanocloud>: Why don’t you call up Indradhanush? He lived here most of his life, didn’t he?

<Belessar>: That’s a good point. I’ll call him next time we get a slot. 

The restaurant the cop had directed me to was almost deserted. Considering that it was halfway through lunchtime, that did not bode well.

I scanned the staff and patrons with quick applications of Observe. Most of the staff had the WAITER class, but one overweight man seated behind a desk identified differently.

GULRATAN BAIG

CLASS: RESTAURANT OWNER

LEVEL: 2

HP: 105/105

Jackpot. I made a beeline for Mr. Baig. 

“I’ve been told you can help,” I said. “I’m looking for information about a missing persons case. Prajyot Venkat.”

The restaurant owner shrugged. “Five thousand.”

“.... Excuse me?”

“Five thousand up front. Rest depends on the boss.”

“.... who’s the boss?”

Baig’s eyes hardened. “Are you stupid?”

“Maybe.”

“Get out.”

For a moment, I was tempted to use mind control on the guy. Charm would have him unable to do more than stammer, Compulsion would force him to speak up - though I might have to intimidate him first - and Brainwash, well, a couple of well-time punches would leave him vulnerable to being turned into a puppet.

Good sense reasserted itself. That’s how villains behave, and I was not a villain.

“Thank you for your time,” I replied politely and walked out.

I definitely needed a local guide. Or, well, some sort of local contacts. 

Kalachakra?

I’d have to explain things to him, which would inevitably mean unmasking Porcupine. And these were local police; Kalachakra was an advisor to the federal government, which meant he might not be able to do anything at all. 

However, that didn’t mean there were no alternatives.

Prajyot Venkat had boarded the Neeta Volvo bus number E28, which terminated at Pimpri Bus Stand. Where he had, supposedly, never gotten off.

The Pimpri Bus Stand was massive. Dozens of buses kept coming in and going out every hour, with a cheerful ignorance of little things like pedestrians standing in the way. Then again, the pedestrians somehow weaved their way through the transiting buses with zero accidents. Everyone seemed to have a properly levelled Dodge Buses skill.

A series of Observes led me to a small office where a young man in a sharp uniform was frantically tapping away at a screen. 

“Excuse me?” I asked. “Senior Conductor Gupta?”

The man - whose name Observe had helpfully provided - turned to me. “That’s me. How can I help you?”

“I need a bit of help. A friend of mine, Prajyot Venkat, got on a Neeta Volvo bus some months ago, but never got off it. Could I find out at what places the bus stopped?”

“Give me the bus number.”

I pulled up the ticket image on my Unplottable Smartphone. “This was given to me by his sister. He’s been missing for about six months now?”

“Two minutes.” Senior Conductor Gupta rapidly typed a series of commands on to his screen. “... That route has only two regular stops. IOCL Kanhe and the Khopoli Viewpoint. Both have bus stations - you can check if he got off there.”

“Thank you.”

IOCL Kanhe was a petrol pump a mere thirty kilometres from Pimpri. Six teleports. 

As soon as I passed through the doors of the petrol pump, a message showed on my interface.

TEST OF LUCK: PASSED.

“Oh my god it’s Belessaaar!!!” an excited squeal filled the air. It came from a teenage girl standing at the desk, along with an older gentleman. 

“Don’t be silly, child, he probably just looks alike,” the gentleman sighed. “Can I help you, sir?”

I paused for a quick Observe.

VIKRAM TENDULKAR

LEVEL 5

CLASS: ENTREPRENEUR

A SMALL-TIME BUSINESSMAN WHO OWNS THE PETROL PUMP, THREE STORES, AND THE LOCAL RESTAURANT, AND DOTES ON HIS ONLY DAUGHTER.

LEENA TENDULKAR

LEVEL 1

CLASS: STUDENT

THE ONLY DAUGHTER OF LOCAL BUSINESSMAN VIKRAN TENDULKAR, AND YOUR BIGGEST FAN IN THE SMALL SUBURB OF KANHE. PRESIDENT OF THE ‘BELESSAR AND NANOCLOUD FAN CLUB’ AT KANHE HIGH SCHOOL, AS WELL AS ITS ONLY CURRENT MEMBER. NOT DOING WELL IN SCHOOL, DUE TO HER TENDENCY TO GET DISTRACTED BY ANYTHING RELATED TO THE TWO OF YOU. 

SHAME ON YOU FOR SPOILING A YOUNG GIRL’S EDUCATION.

“Mr. Tendulkar, Ms. Tendulkar?” I took a deep breath. “I’m Andrew Drake. Belessar when I’m in a suit.”

“Ah,” the senior Tendulkar said cautiously. “I hope you’ll pardon me, sir….”

“But ultrahumans don’t normally carry identification,” I acknowledged. “I could be a shifter or merely a human impersonator, right?”

The senior Mr. Tendulkar looked grateful that I had said it, rather then him. Cautiously, I summoned a small portal - one that ran from my hands to the end of the store. “This is one of my more well-known powers. I trust that works as identification? My other ones are a bit more, well, explosive - which is not a good idea in a petrol pump.”

“I told you, Dad!” squealed the girl.

“Thank you, Mr. Belessar, for your patience,” the senior Tendulkar replied. “And, er, welcome to my store? My daughter’s a fan of yours.”

“That she is. President of the ‘Belessar and Nanocloud Fan Club’, right?”

“You’ve heard of us,” Leena said faintly. “Belessar’s heard of us……”

“Only good things,” I smiled. 

“.... wouldyousignmyautographbook?” 

“Leena, breathe,” her father said. “Mr. Drake - Belessar - I’m assuming you’re here on business? Do you need a refill - I don’t suppose your robots run on petrol?”

“My mechs run on fusion power, but that’s not why I’m here. Actually, I do need some help. A friend of mine went missing some months ago, and I’m trying to retrace his steps. Do you have any video recordings of the store and its surroundings, possibly around the time the E28 bus stopped here?” 

Mr. Tendulkar thought for a moment. “I don’t keep video recordings of the buses that stop for fuel. However - I also own the store across the street. There’s a camera there which might have something. What did you say the date was?”

I signed an excited Leena’s autograph book while Mr. Tendulkar accessed the video feed from the store.

Three signatures, a selfie with Leena, and another autograph on a printout of the photograph she printed. The girl might be a fan, but she drove a hard bargain. 

The video feed, however, was worth it. 

The camera showed the E28 bus pulling into the stop, and passengers getting off. The passengers debarked. 

One by one, I saw passengers getting off the bus. Prayjot was the fifth to climb down. After him, a young woman followed. 

In itself, that would have been nothing remarkable. A young lady can get off a bus, after all.

However, for some reason, the woman’s face seemed - oddly familiar. 

It felt I’d seen it before - although where, when or how eluded me. 

Prajyot and the woman walked silently to the road. A car pulled up, and both of them climbed into it.

…. That was it?

It seemed straightforward - Prajyot Venkat had, indeed, climbed into a car with an unknown woman. The police assessment - that he’d run away with a girlfriend - made sense.

Except for three things.

The odd familiarity of the woman.

The fact that the car they’d climbed into had been a Volkswagen Starling. The Starling was one of the more expensive autocars on the market - the cost of one would cover a dozen Spinmakers. A car like that was the province of wealthy doctors and businessmen, not a near-destitute college student. 

And the third thing that left me with grave doubts?

In the entire time Prajyot Venkat had walked to the car, he hadn’t spoken a word to his companion.

Not a smile. Not a casual ‘hello’. Not a whisper, nor a shared confidence. Not even a glance in her direction.

He’d just walked to the car, opened the door, climbed in, and vanished off the face of the earth.