Resistance by Samit Basu Read Free Book Online

on a blackboard; perhaps it is his perfect body language, his charm, his immense popularity (he has spent the last two years starring in his own biopic in between hero missions). Perhaps it is because he has slowly been replacing her as the Unit’s spokesperson, as the networks trust him more than they do a woman with a Muslim name. Or perhaps it is because Mr “New Clooney” has ranked above her in the 100 Sexiest People list for two years running now.
    To Wingman’s right sits Wu, staring into space as always. At the moment it doesn’t look like there’s some ancient spirit in residence in her frail body: they tend to be much more alert and curious than Wu is herself. Uzma had resented her inclusion in the Unit as well, after Tia left, but the Chinese government had threatened to declare the Unit hostile unless they had a Chinese hero for every American. Not that Wu was in any way a Chinese government posterchild – she had been a performance artist following in Ai Weiwei’s dissident footsteps, but they hadn’t banned her yet when her transformation occurred. She clearly didn’t fit into any of the Chinese government’s Harmony Warrior squadrons either, so they were quite relieved when the Unit took her in. There just wasn’t any space for a sorceress/oneiromancer in the Chinese military superteams. Especially one as young and volatile as Wu. No one knows the full extent of Wu’s powers; Wu herself definitely doesn’t. But Uzma has seen her hovering in the air with an ancient spirit glaring out of her eyes, seen her bring rain down on parched lands, seen her annihilate a horde of song-raised zombies with a whispered secret word, and is grateful to have the sorceress on her team. The UN hasn’t officially recognised the existence of magic yet, but it is clear that it is very real, and very dangerous. Whether it had existed all along, or the powers of the Second Wavers who turned into magicians created it, is still not known.
    Next to Wu sits That Guy, and Uzma suppresses the urge to throw her coffee mug at him. At least That Guy has learnt not to speak at Unit meetings; the last time he tried to argue with Uzma, Wingman had tossed him across the table, and for one shining moment Uzma had felt real love for Wingman, and the Unit had been united in real joy.
    That Guy had spent twenty-eight years on Earth doing absolutely nothing of value, but had taken one of the First Wave flights. He’d acquired the power to be in any photograph, any list, any meeting he wanted to be in. No one had invited That Guy to the Unit – no one, as far as he remembered, had ever invited him anywhere – but over the years, they had come to accept his presence, his irritating little cough, his inevitably mistimed laughter. They’d tried to use him to infiltrate super-terrorist gatherings, but he had failed at that. He only really wanted to be in the Unit, when he wasn’t attending lingerie parties and film premieres. Uzma had assumed he’d be killed in combat soon enough – four heroes had already died in the Unit’s service – but That Guy had stubbornly survived.
    That Guy sees Uzma looking at him, and stares shiftily at his lap. Uzma’s grip on her coffee mug tightens. She even used her Voice on him once, telling him he didn’t want to be a part of the Unit, that he should be anywhere else. He had almost died then, screaming, half his body teleported away, and Uzma had relented.
    Everyone has their drinks now, and Ellis takes charge, striding around the room with a large holo-screen, making one of his excellent state-of-the-world presentations – how on earth did he find the time? Uzma has perfected the art of nodding and looking interested as the words roll over her; she focuses, instead, on her teammates. Anima’s not even pretending to listen; Jason plays footsie with her under the table for a few minutes until something makes him sit up; Wingman, too, Uzma notices, is suddenly all ears. This is the signal Uzma uses